Page 129 of One Last Verse

I broke the silence first, needing to express some of the things that raced through my mind. “You did the right thing.” My eyes swept over the elegant shape of his face, admiring. “For Dante.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance.” Frank chuckled softly. “Or a hundred and second in his case.”

“I really do think he means well. He just doesn’t know the right way to do it.”

“You did notice”—Frank dropped his voice to a whisper as if he was about to say a blasphemous thing—“he fucked up an acoustic solo.”

“The crowd didn’t care.” I pulled out my phone and checked the livestream stats Levi had messaged me a while ago. “We hit over a hundred thousand views.”

Frank took a deep, controlled breath and stared at the empty space in front of him. “He won’t be able to keep this a secret unless he doesn’t plan on picking up a guitar at all.”

“You’re worried about him.” Biting back a smile, I spun to see him better and studied his expression.

“In all of the twenty years I’ve known Dante, he’s never actually apologized for anything. Not even for…” His words faltered and remained unsaid. He shifted and rolled his shoulder. “Actually, I don’t think it matters anymore.” His gaze returned to me. “I think maybe he did me a solid by fucking my ex-wife.”

“Is that so?” An inaudible laugh escaped my lungs.

“Yes.” Frank’s hand reached for my cheek to cup it. “I met you, doll.”

Blood surged to my cheeks. But I wasn’t blushing. I was burning. The entire world felt like it’d been lit on fire. “You were amazing today. It takes courage to do what you did for Isabella and for Dante.”

“You never cease to amaze me, Cassy Evans.” A tired smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “You want to know what I like about you the most?”

“Enlighten me.” I slipped my hand in his hair and raked my fingers through its thickness.

“Your goodness,” he whispered, his lips near my ear. “Wanting to make this shitty world we live in a better place without asking for anything in return.”

My heart pounded. “Not quite accurate.” I brought my face to meet his. Our soft breaths mingled between our mouths and the gap separating us was suddenly filled with invisible energy. Supercharged. “I do want something in return.”

His brow arched in silent question.

“You,” I said. “And some sleep.”

“You have me, doll. I’m here.” He paused. A twinkle lit his eyes. “I can’t guarantee any sleep just yet.”

“What can you guarantee, Frank?” I brushed my lips against his.

“I can guarantee an orgasm,” he teased back.

“You think the promise of an orgasm is going to get you in my good graces?”

“I hope so.”

He was smiling. My eyes were closed and I didn’t see it, but I felt it in the slight lilt of his voice. His hands slipped down the curves of my body, slowly and carefully. A deft touch. A prelude. I shifted and pressed my body to his.

“You’re still on probation, Frank Wallace,” I murmured.

“As long as I have to report to you.”

We drove in silence for a while longer, until the limo began a slow climb through a dark Hollywood Hills neighborhood.

“Where are we going?” I asked, staring out at the sparsely spaced houses we passed on the way up.

“Just wanted to show you something.”

“Didn’t you take me here once before?”

“Yes, I did.” He nodded.

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