Page 102 of Devious Kingpin
After John was gone, Dante decided to take us out to lunch in his grandfather’s car. We even put the top down despite the cold. I merely suggested it and he then insisted.
“Your wish is my command,” he said and I grinned like an idiot while my pulse fluttered.
The cold breeze froze my cheeks, but I didn’t care. I smiled happily, tilting my face up to bask in the sun. Dante looked in my direction, a spark passing through his eyes.
He remained silent as we drove, taking all the back roads into the heart of the city so I wouldn’t freeze. His thoughtfulness did some weird things to my insides, but I couldn’t exactly say I hated the feeling.
City noise surrounded us. The sound of the engine purred lazily. And my husband threw glances my way every so often, the heat in them enough to warm me from the inside as my pulse drifted between my thighs.
“Does it drive the same way?” I asked, because for some crazy reason I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to know everything there was about him.
He flicked a gaze to me, smiling. Darkness glinted behind his eyes along with a feeling I didn’t dare label.
“Even better,” he drawled. “Now, the car is part of my grandfather and you.”
His words sparked something inside my chest and fireworks of emotions exploded through me. It was so easy to fall for him. I’d fought it and fought it for two years, only to end up here. In his car. In his city.
And I fucking loved it.
Hand on the wheel, he drove the speed limit and obeyed all the traffic laws. There was something humorous about it considering his line of work. I was a terrible driver. I cruised slowly through stop signs and always went over the speed limit. It was the reason I’d managed to total one too many cars.
“Did I thank you yet?” His question pulled me out of my thoughts.
I smiled. “You have.”
He drove the car like it was an extension of him and I knew—I just knew—it was the right thing having it restored. I’d done right by him.
“Were you and your grandfather close?” I asked, although I knew the answer. If he cared about his grandpa’s car so much, he had to care about the man.
Dante nodded. “Very. Priest and he were close too.” A dark expression crossed his eyes, but it quickly evaporated. “Our dad was often too busy and Mother was…” He paused, as if searching for the right word, but couldn’t quite find it. “Anyhow, he was a good man. He’d bring Priest and me over to his place, then we’d work on cars. Or his garden. And the whole time, he’d tell us stories about Grandma.”
I chuckled, trying to imagine Dante working in a garden and failing.
“You and the garden are hard to imagine,” I said softly. His head tilted to the side, catching my gaze and holding it for a moment, before he returned his attention back to the road.
“Your grandpa sounds like a great guy,” I added. “Mine, well, Wynter’s grandpa really, he just likes to play chess and card games. I hate those, but Wyn is good at them.”
“Does that bother you?”
I shot him a curious look. “What?”
“That he’s not your real grandpa,” he clarified.
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to think of how to respond. I never really thought that much about it. Usually I was glad Wyn would entertain him so he wouldn’t put me through the pains of playing games.
“No, not really,” I finally answered. “He was always good to us, treating both Killian and me like we were family.” I thought back to the one time I heard his protest about Killian inheriting the Brennans’ business. Back then, I didn’t know we weren’t really Brennans. “I understand now why Grandpa didn’t want Killian to inherit the Brennan empire.”
“That’s shitty,” Dante noted wryly. “Liam raised you as his own. Killian should inherit. After all, he was raised as a Brennan.”
I shrugged. “Dad wants him to, but I think Killian is refusing. Especially now that Dad has a true son.” He nodded in understanding, but I could tell by the expression on his face he still didn’t agree.
“Was it a shock to learn that Priest was your half brother?” I questioned.
He shook his head as we came to a stoplight, then cast a glance my way.
“Yes and no.” When I raised a brow, he continued, “My mother was a bitch. She treated both of us poorly, but Priest more so than me.”
I swallowed, something about his tone warning me it wasn’t a good story.
