Page 60 of Murder & Mayhem

His desire for me to wed might genuinely work in my favor. The vow to become an Antonelli man, and the vow of marriage, are the only two things that have any significance in this organization. The only things my father won’t just trudge all over to get his way. It’s the only way I can think of to keep her safe, and if it tethers her to me permanently, well, then I’m sure as fuck not going to complain. She’ll get used to the idea, she just needs some time to come around.

As for Lor, well, he’s a whole other problem. The steadfast look in his eye earlier, when he said he wasn’t giving her up means he isn’t going to change his mind. I tilt my head to the side, watching the rhythmic rising and falling of Sawyer’s chest as she sleeps peacefully. It’s interesting that this little firecracker has gotten to both of us.

Lor is my closest confidant. The only person in this whole world I trust. Over the years, ourrelationshiphas evolved. We’ve never put a label on it. He knows what I am, that I’m not capable of real emotions, so it’s never needed to be defined. We both know what this is between us. But Sawyer could put a wrench in all of that if I’m not careful. I can’t afford to lose Lor—as either a soldier or a friend—but I’m also unwilling to giveherup. I will have to navigate these new waters carefully and keep a close eye on both of them.

The sheets rustle as Sawyer shifts in her sleep, drawing my thoughts back to the room as I watch her. She looks so different in her sleep… peaceful. She walks around all day with a permanent frown and wary eyes, but all that falls away when she’s sleeping, making her appear younger, more youthful and carefree. I wonder what her life has been like since I ran into her in that alley. She’s obviously no longer on the street, but she does work in strip clubs… something that will have to stop. I can’t have my wife dancing mostly naked on a stage where any dickhead can drool all over her. That would rack up a hefty body count pretty quickly, and I’ve enough on my plate, never mind snapping the neck of every guy that looks in her direction.

My hand tightens around the arm of the chair as I realize Lor probably knows everything about her. He probably knows all about what she’s been through in the last eight years… where she’s worked, where she lives, what she does in her free time. The only thing that settles me a bit is the fact that she glowers at him the same way she does at me, so despite their familiarity, she clearly doesn’t look at him in a favorable light. That’s a small win, I guess.

I sense it, the second she wakes. Her body tenses, the first indicator that she’s no longer asleep, and when I look at her face again, those lazuli-blue eyes latch on mine, holding me hostage in their endless depths. I don’t move, instead choosing to return her curious stare, and eventually, her eyes drift shut again.

Only when the dusty pink of dawn begins to lighten outside the window, do I finally find the strength to leave her, returning to my own room, alone, but not for much longer.

Chapter 21

Shaking off the weird dream I had last night, where I thought Dante was in my room, watching me like a fucking stalker, I stretch before climbing out of bed with a renewed purpose. I can’t stay here much longer. I need to get home to check on Luc, and I’m sure Oliver and Cain are beginning to worry, despite my assurances to Oliver yesterday that I was fine.

Before I can do that, though, I need to ensure I’m not going to bring this asshole intent on killing me back to my brother or the Rejects. The only way I can guarantee that is to kill Giovanni. From what Dante said, that’s who orchestrated the hit—because his son has been spotted staring at me at the club?Jeez, someone needs to get a fucking life.How the hell is thatmyfault?

Grabbing my pile of rumpled clothes from the floor, I move toward the bathroom, but I pull up short when I find the nicest—and probably most expensive—dress I’ve ever seen hanging over the bathroom door. I have to admit it’s gorgeous, and on instinct, I lift my hand, running it over the smooth-as-silk fabric, but I have no idea what it is doing in my room. Or how it got here. It definitely wasn’t hanging over the door when I came to bed last night. As a thought crosses my mind, I spin to look at the armchair, tilting my head to one side. Was it more than just a dream? A strangled laugh bubbles up the back of my throat. No way, that would be insane, even for Dante. It’s one thing to watch me up on stage or in the club, but to sneak into my room in the middle of the night and watch me sleep? That’s just fucking creepy.

Returning my focus to the dress, I find a note attached to the long sleeve and pluck it off.Put this on when you get up.There’s no name attached, and honestly, either of the bossy assholes down the hall could have left it for me, but I get the impression it was Dante. He seems the type to get off on choosing outfits for me. I chew on my bottom lip as I decide what to do, my gaze roaming over the outfit. There’s barely anything to it. It’s a black dress that looks like it would fall to mid-thigh, with a daring zip up one side that guarantees only a thong would get by unnoticed. It’s got form-fitting long sleeves that join into a deep V that undoubtedly shows off the girls and guarantees a bra cannot be worn with the outfit. The dress is finished off with a couple of buttons on the front, giving it the appearance of an oversized jacket, and a chunky black belt with two thin chains completes the ensemble.

Glancing down at the floor, there’s a pair of Louboutin pumps, identifiable by their iconic red soles. Noticing something tucked in one of the heels, I bend down to lift it out, snorting a laugh at the tiny scrap of fabric—a thong.Well, at least he thought of everything.

My traitorous heart skips an excited beat at the thought of dressing up exactly how Dante wants me to. I wonder if that would get a reaction out of him. So little seems to, and a dark little part of myself gets off of eliciting a response from him, however small. Yet, the independent woman in me doesn’t want to bend to his demands. He could at least have asked and explained why I needed to dress up. Groaning, I swipe my hand over my face.It’s too early for this shit.

Ignoring the dress, for now, I step into the bathroom to shower, and twenty minutes later, I’m standing in the bedroom as I once again stare at the outfit, contemplating what to do. Darting my gaze to my rumpled clothes from yesterday, I’m not really in any hurry to put them back on. Besides, when is the next time I’ll get to try on a dress that probably costs more than my rent?

Decision made, I slip into the soft material and slide my feet into the heels. Moving to the mirror, I fix my hair and makeup before taking a step back to see the outfit in its entirety. The dress hugs my curves perfectly, and the heels make my legs look like they’re miles long. Combined with the dark make-up and red lipstick, I look formidable. All I’m missing is a thigh strap with one of my thin blades in it and a clutch with my Glock, and I’d look like how I always imagined I would if I showed the world the real Reaper.

Confidence flows with every step as I leave the room and make my way downstairs. My heels clack against the wooden floor as I go, announcing my presence. So when I step into the kitchen where both Enzo and Dante are sitting, looking stoic as ever, as though they weren’t about to rip each other's heads off when I left them last night, they are already looking in my direction.

I meet Dante’s gaze first, and the look in his eyes hits me like a strong gust of wind, stirring up a tornado of confusing feelings and knocking the breath from my lungs. The lust burning in his eyes is unmistakable, and has the thin scrap of material covering my pussy dampening.Well, that took no time at all.

Swallowing roughly, I tear my gaze away from him to look at Enzo, ignoring the possessive growl that works its way up the back of Dante’s throat at the loss of my attention. The look on Enzo’s face is just as intense, but unlike Dante, I don’t have to stare into his eyes and push aside his barriers to see it. It’s all there on his face for me to readily read. That, more than anything, takes me by surprise. He’s never dropped his walls so thoroughly; never allowed me to gain this level of insight into how he’s feeling. Things are changing rapidly between us, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

The room grows hot, my cheeks warming with the heat.What does a woman have to do to get a fan around here? Or a spare set of panties?Needing something to focus on, other than the two imperious men sucking all the oxygen out of the room, I move to the sink, pouring myself a glass of water and downing half of it in one gulp, thankful for it’s instant cooling effect.

“As grateful as I am for the change of clothes, why am I dressed up like a mafia whore?”

I’m a little relieved to find Dante’s barriers fully erected when I meet his eyes. The intensity in those eyes is justa lotwhen you aren’t used to it. I did say I wanted to get a reaction from him—mission accomplished. It just wasn’t quite the reaction I’d been expecting.

“Because we’re going to see my father.”

My ears perk up at that, and my eyebrows lift in surprise. That actually works perfectly for mykill Giovanniplans, but… “Why?” I ask suspiciously.

The gleam in Dante’s eye is the same as the one he had last night, and I'm gritting my teeth before he’s even spoken.

“So we can tell him the good news.” He digs into his pocket, tossing me a small, black velvet box. A nauseous feeling settles in my stomach as I crack open the lid, slowly revealing the sickening sight in front of me.

“What the fuck is this?” I croak, scowling at the gleaming, giant rock with disgust. It’s…fuck, I don’t even know what it is. Massive. Hideous. Obscene. There’s no way I can wear this. This is intended for some housewife who isn’t going to accidentally knock it against stuff—or use it to put a nice little dent in the side of some asshole’s head. It sure as fuck isn’t meant to be worn by someone like me.

Likely seeing the look of horror and revulsion on my face, Enzo snorts, the soft sound catching my attention as I glance up at him, stunned. Switching my attention to Dante, he doesn’t look pleased. A look that only darkens when I blurt out, “I’m not wearing this.”

He storms across the room toward me, snatching the ring box out of my hand and looking at it with a confused frown. “What’s wrong with it?”

I wave my hand in the general direction of the box. “It’s… It’s…” Words fail me as I continue to gesticulate with my hand. “I mean, look at it. It’s meant for someone who lives in a lavish mansion and never has to lift a finger.”

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