Page 58 of Love Without Control

Studiously avoiding the sight of Dane decorating adorable pink cupcakes, I busied myself with cleaning up the kitchen.

I was seriously attracted to him and doing my best not to admit that I was a full-fledged fake-husband slut.

The next eight weeks passed slowly and in a blur at the same time. While June seemed to have arrived before I knew it, the pace of island life was easy and laid back. My restlessness over when I’d see my family again relaxed as I settled into my current reality. I would be with them as soon as Leo Cappitani decided to finally do something about Luca.

And bydo something, I meant whacking… sleeping with the fishes… fitting him with a pair of concrete shoes and taking him for a swim in the Atlantic. This was a new phenomenon for me because I’d never wished another human dead. Sure, maybe I’d hoped my mother would come down with an embarrassing skin rash all over her face when she was being particularly nasty, but death? Nope. Never.

But I could honestly say that I wouldn’t shed a tear if Luca Cappitani ended up six feet under. And not just because he’d tried to buy me from a human trafficking ring. No, the way he treated Dane was the final nail in the proverbial coffin. The asshole had absolutely no redeeming qualities that I could tell.

Dane and I had fallen into a bit of a routine since arriving here. Every morning we walked the beach on turtle duty, and then we’d spend the rest of the day at the beach or exploring the town.

On Friday afternoons, we baked. Well, he baked and I watched in a very supportive way. And with every single batch, he made a special dessert just for me… one with a lilac on top. He played around with different flavors and fillings, but the one constant was that lilac made of frosting. And with each nibble of sugary flower, I hated Dane a little less. In fact, I wasn’t sure I’d ever hated him all that much. I hated my situation, and he was the nearest target.

Sometimes we had dinner with the Mimses, and I met up with Charlisse for coffee a few times while her little boy drove toy trucks up and down our arms. I adored all of them and hoped we could stay in touch once I returned to New York. I didn’t like lying to them, but I was sure they’d understand once the truth came out about why I had to be deceptive.

One Friday evening, we were sitting on Charles and Mimsy’s back porch, munching on the almond vanilla cupcakes Dane made earlier. “Damn, son!” Charles boomed, taking a big bite. “What’s this filling? Blackberry?”

“It’s a combination of blackberry and raspberry,” he replied. “I haven’t tried that before.”

“Well, it’s fantastic. You should come work at my bakery. These would fly out of the case like they had wings.”

“Charles!” his wife scolded. “Dane is on his honeymoon. All he wants to do is spend time with his blushing bride.” She waggled suggestive eyebrows at me, and my cheeks did indeed pinken at the implication.

“I’ll write down the recipe for you,” Dane replied. “You’re welcome to use it at the bakery.”

“Mighty nice of you,” Charles said, reaching for the other half of his cupcake before his wife whisked it away.

“Your blood sugar,” she warned, and the man gave a disgruntled sniff but didn’t otherwise protest. She fanned her face with a cardstock fan on a stick she’d gotten at the local bookstore. It featured a bare-chested man who was apparently the cover model for a romance book.

Dane’s hand went to his hip pocket, and I instantly recognized the unique ringtone of his burner phone. “Excuse me. I need to grab this,” he said, rising and heading inside the house. Fiero only called about every ten days, and each time he did, I waited for him to tell us that Luca was out of the picture and it was safe for me to go home.

I nodded along while Mimsy chattered, trying not to look as distracted as I felt.Is this the phone call we’ve been waiting for?

“Have you read this one?” the woman asked, waving the fan at me. “It’s a Mafia romance. The mouth on this man will twist your knickers.”

Great, a Mafia romance. Exactly what I need,the sarcastic portion of my brain censured.

“No, I haven’t read it, but I did enjoy that cowboy romance you gave me last week.”

Mimsy closed her eyes and resumed fanning her face against the muggy Florida heat. “My Charles used to be a cowboy, you know. He was raised on a ranch. He asked me out twice, and I said no both times. Then I saw him riding across the pasture on his horse, and wooo-weee!”

“I had a much better figure back then,” Charles said, giving his belly a self-deprecating pat.

I listened as the two of them reminisced about the beginning of their relationship, and I fell in love with their story. Charles and Mimsy were the cutest couple I’d ever encountered, and I found myself wishing my dad had a relationship like theirs. He deserved someone warm and outgoing, and I wondered, not for the first time, why he and my mother were even still married. They slept in separate rooms, and they never went out together, other than the occasional gala or other event.

When Dane returned to the porch, I knew immediately that something was not right. His lips were pinched into a tight line, and his eyes skittered around before finally landing on mine.

Covering my mouth with one hand, I feigned a yawn. “This has been so nice, but I think I’m ready to call it a night.”

“Of course,” Mimsy crooned. “You sweethearts need time for yourselves. Thank you for hanging out with the old folks tonight.”

“It was our pleasure,” Dane said, his lips turning up slightly. “We’ll have you two over for dinner next week.”

After a round of goodbyes, he took my hand and led me across the backyard to the house where we were staying. “What’s going on?” I asked, but he shook his head.

“Inside.” He unlocked the back door and led me inside and to the couch. “Sit.”

All these one-word commands annoyed me, but I did as he said, watching him pace back and forth on the other side of the coffee table. Spearing both hands in his hair, he tugged before stopping his feet and dropping his hands to his sides.

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