Page 38 of Dirty Behavior

That he still wantedus.

I was hurting because a small part of me was afraid that he might think all of this was too much to deal with, and that it'd be easier if he just got up and walked away.

He could start over someplace else; a new man with a new name and a new life.

I mean, what man would want to go through this much trouble for one woman?

Could I really be worth it?

As he approached the door, I couldn't stay facing away. I had to see him, see his face, his eyes, and try to read what he was thinking.

Dante wasn't an easy person to crack, he didn't share emotions or feelings. Not many guys do, I get that. But I needed him to let me in, let me read it for myself.

Words weren't always necessary if you opened your heart.

He didn't have to speak, he didn't have to utter a fucking sentence; but he had to let me see him.

Rolling over, I stared at the entrance. Dante's large frame filled the entryway, his shoulders practically brushing each wood beam. His lips were still, eyes holding on mine. As he stood there static for a moment, his arms hung gently by his waist.

Dante wasn't moving, but each muscle perked, pressing against his shirt with such definition I could count them all. My heart jumped inside my chest, pussy clenching tight.

It was impossible to stop my body from reacting to him. The intensity of his gaze, the fierce cut of his jaw, everything about him made me tremble.

I was trying like hell to not break the silence, I wanted him to say something first, I had already said enough. It was his turn to speak, his opportunity to just tell me what his next step in this whole thing would be.

Does he still want this?

Does he still want us?

Does he still want me?

Walking to the bed, Dante slipped in beside me, wrapping his arm around my neck, and pulling me in. “I'm sorry, Ivy, I—”

“No,” I cut in. I didn't want him to apologize for something I had started. “I'm the one who should be sorry, I shouldn't have thrown it in your face that you were like him. It wasn't right, I don't know what happened between you guys. I'm sure you have your reasons.” Pushing myself up higher into the nook of his arm, I rubbed his chest. “I shouldn't have tried to convince you otherwise.”

“No, you didn't do anything wrong. I just need you to understand that I was brought up on a set of a rules that aren't meant to be broken. He betrayed us, he betrayed his family.” Caressing my shoulder, he snuggled up closer. “That's what hurts the most. Sesto had gotten picked up by the police and instead of doing what we were taught and keeping his mouth shut, he chirped like a fucking canary.”

“I'm trying to understand that, I am. But I can't understand why it would constitute him being killed.”

“Those are the rules, he knew that. But he didn't just talk, Ivy. Sesto gave up information that we had all swore we never would. We had taken an oath, he traded that oath for selfishness. We lost so much because of this. But that's not even the worse part.”

“Then what is it?”

“With him locked up like that, he put all of us in danger of being taken down with him. And he only did it to save himself. He cut a deal, they gave him a year for what he said, and the guys he burned got twenty to life. All the trust was gone after that. The one rule he had to follow was to never talk, it's the worst thing he could do to us. He's blood, blood is supposed to be thicker than water. But he opened the flood gates.”

“Dante, think about what you're saying, think about what you did to save me. You betrayed your father too. Do you think what you did deserves the same punishment you want for Sesto?”

He had to realize that he wasn't exactly walking the line, he had climbed over the fucking fence and jumped in feet first with his brother.

Glancing up to the ceiling, Dante took in slow, short breaths. He looked confused, torn between what's right and what had been burned into his brain since birth.

But he wasn't the guy he thought he was, he didn't have that dark-seeded nature to actually kill his brother. I think he just thought it existed.

Or maybe. . . He just wanted it to be there.

If he did contain that type of blackness, Sesto would be dead already.

Dante had this strained desire to make his father proud and earn his respect. Killing a man did that, it cemented his allegiance to the family.

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