Page 15 of My Best Friend Is Broken
“Family stuff,” I lie desperately. “My cousin’s visiting from Italy.”
“How nice.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Cancel it.”
It’s not a suggestion. It never is, with Dante.
I nod, defeat settling in my chest like lead. “Fine. What time?”
“Midnight. The usual place.” He stands, straightening his coat with practiced movements. “Don’t be late, Nicolo. You know how I hate to be kept waiting.”
I’m already mentally preparing for the conversation I’ll have to have with Liam, how to explain that I need to leave him alone tonight, how to make him understand that I don’t have a choice, when Dante’s attention shifts.
His head tilts, like a predator scenting prey.
“Who’s that? That’s not your cousin.”
I follow his gaze, and my heart stops. Liam is standing in the doorway to the living room, half-hidden behind thewall but still visible. His hair is still messed from sleeping, the oversized t-shirt hanging off one pale shoulder.
“Nobody,” I say quickly. “Just…” Why didn’t Liam listen to me and stay out of sight? Dante is a dangerous man, and I don’t want Liam anywhere near him. I don’t want Liam near any mafia stuff. My two worlds are never going to collide.
“Liam.” Dante’s voice takes on a different quality, something silky and dangerous. “That’s Liam, isn’t it? Your little friend from your school days.”
My blood turns to ice. How does he know that name? How does he know about Liam? Dante was at Molly and Dario’s dinner party last week, but all I said then was that my friend was getting out of prison. I never mentioned any names. But Dante has a deeply uncanny way of knowing everything.
Liam takes a small step backward, pressing himself against the doorframe. His eyes are wide with the kind of fear I recognize, prey animal fear, the look of something cornered. Lord knows Dante has made me wear that expression many times.
“I remember hearing about you,” Dante continues, stalking forward with fluid grace. “The pretty boy who killed a girl. Five years in Brixton, wasn’t it?”
Liam flinches like he’s been struck. His face goes chalk white.
“Dante,” I warn, but he ignores me.
He takes a step toward Liam, then another, moving with the casual confidence of a man who’s never encountered anything he couldn’t break.
“You’re much prettier than I expected,” he purrs, his voice dropping to that intimate whisper that makes grownmen confess their sins. “I can see why Nicolo tried to keep you all to himself.”
Liam makes a sound, small, choked, terrified. His whole body is trembling now.
Something snaps inside me. Something I didn’t even know could break.
“Don’t.” The word comes out sharp as a gunshot. “Don’t fucking say shit like that.”
I’m moving before I realize it, putting myself between Dante and Liam like a human shield. My hands are shaking with rage, with fear, with something so fierce it burns in my chest.
Dante stops, his dark eyes widening with genuine surprise. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never raised my voice. Never pushed back. Never done anything but nod and follow orders like a good little soldier.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” My voice is steadier now, fueled by something stronger than fear. “Stay away from him.”
For a moment, the apartment is dead silent. I can hear Liam’s ragged breathing behind me, can feel the heat of his body pressed close to my back.
Then Dante laughs, a sound like breaking glass.
“Well,” he says, genuine admiration creeping into his voice. “Look who found his spine.”
He takes a step back, hands raised in mock surrender. “My apologies, Nicolo. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I glare at Dante. He was either freaking Liam out on purpose, or I just witnessed Dante’s fucked-up version of flirting. Both are entirely unacceptable.
