Page 17 of Savage Union
I think back to the dinner—the old men with their cold eyes and colder hearts. The way they spoke about women, about territory, about loyalty. The suffocating weight of tradition pressing down like a boot on my neck.
"They're dinosaurs," I mutter. "Living in some fantasy version of the 1950s where women are property and men are gods."
"They're the Commission," Dante corrects. "The most powerful criminal organization on the East Coast. And yes, they're dinosaurs. But they're dinosaurs with armies."
"And Vito is what? T-Rex in Chief?"
The unexpected joke startles a laugh out of Dante. "Something like that."
"Tell me about him," I say, seizing the opportunity. "What's he really like? When he's not terrorizing innocent women into marriage?"
Dante narrows his eyes. "Nice try, princess."
"Come on," I press. "I'm stuck here anyway. Might as well know what I'm dealing with."
He considers this, then shrugs. "What do you want to know?"
"How did you start working for him?"
"I was a street kid. Got caught stealing from one of his clubs." Dante's eyes grow distant. "Instead of having me killed, he offered me a job. Said he recognized something in me."
"What?"
"Hunger. The good kind." He taps his temple. "The kind that drives you to be more than your circumstances."
"And now you're his... what? Bodyguard?"
"Sometimes. Enforcer, usually." He doesn't elaborate, and I don't ask. Some things are better left unsaid.
"What's he like as a boss?"
"Fair, but ruthless." Dante takes a drink of water. "Makes his expectations clear. Rewards loyalty. Punishes betrayal with extreme prejudice."
"Sounds terrifying."
"Only if you cross him." Dante studies me. "Which you seem determined to do."
I change tactics. "What sets him off? Besides me, obviously."
Dante's lips twitch. "Disorder. Disloyalty. Disrespect to those under his protection."
"He's a control freak."
"At an Olympic level." Dante nods. "Everything has its place in Vito's world. Including people."
"And what's my place supposed to be?"
His expression turns serious. "Higher than you think."
I digest this, filing away the information for later. "Did he tell you not to touch me?"
The abrupt question catches Dante off guard. "What?"
"Yesterday. And again this morning. I heard him say 'not a hair on her head.'" I watch his reaction carefully. "Did he give you specific instructions not to touch me?"
Dante shifts, suddenly uncomfortable. "The boss is... particular about your safety."
"That's not what I asked." I step closer. "Did he specifically tell you not to put your hands on me?"
