Page 18 of Savage Union
"Yes." The admission seems dragged from him.
"In what context?"
"Jesus, princess." He runs a hand through his hair. "What does it matter?"
"It matters to me."
He sighs. "Fine. He said if I touched you in any way that wasn't absolutely necessary for your safety, he'd remove my hands. Permanently."
I can't help the small smile that forms. "Interesting."
"It's not interesting. It's standard." Dante looks annoyed now. "You're the future Donna. No one touches the Donna except the Don."
"So if I were to, say, trip and you caught me?—"
"I'd probably catch you because that's necessary for safety." His eyes narrow. "Why?"
"Just curious about the parameters." I tap my fingers against the counter thoughtfully. "Did he specify what 'touch' means?"
"Huh?"
"Did he say 'don't put your hands on her' or did he use the word 'touch' specifically?"
Dante stares at me like I've grown a second head. "Why does that—" He stops, realization dawning. "No. Whatever you're thinking, stop it."
"I'm not thinking anything."
"Bullshit." He points a finger at me. "I see exactly what you're doing, trying to find loopholes. It won't work."
"Maybe," I shrug. "Or maybe Vito's the type who means exactly what he says. If he said 'don't touch her,' that means hands, right? But what about, for example, if I droppedsomething and you had to use your foot to push it back to me? That's not touching, technically."
"This is insane." But I can see the seed of doubt I've planted. Dante knows better than anyone how literal and precise Vito can be.
"Is it?" I raise an eyebrow. "You've worked for him for years. Would he punish you for something he didn't explicitly forbid?"
Dante's jaw works as he thinks it through. "You're playing a dangerous game, princess."
"I'm just trying to understand the rules." I smile innocently. "Adapting, like you suggested."
He shakes his head, but I can tell I've created exactly the uncertainty I wanted. "Let's change the subject."
"Fine." I finish my coffee. "What's there to do around here besides stare at the walls?"
"TV. Books. Gym." He gestures vaguely. "Boss said you're free to use any of the common areas."
"What about his office?"
"Off-limits." Dante's response is immediate. "Absolutely not."
"Just checking." I keep my expression neutral, but inside, a plan begins to form. "I think I'll go read for a while."
"Knock yourself out." He looks relieved at the change of subject. "I'll be around if you need anything."
I spend the morning strategically establishing patterns. I read in the library for an hour, then workout in the gym, then shower. Lunch with minimal conversation. More reading. By late afternoon, Dante has relaxed his vigilance slightly, settling into what appears to be a routine check of his phone every twenty minutes while I pretend to be engrossed in a novel.
"I'm going to take a nap," I announce around four o'clock.
Dante glances up. "Sure thing, princess."
