Page 10 of Damaged & Deadly

Dante snarls furiously, and I simply give the two of them a deadpan look. Patiently, I wait until they’re done glaring at one another and finally turn their attention my way.

“Are we done acting like teenage boys now?”

Enzo just smirks. Who the fuck knew he could be such an instigator? But he is undoubtedly enjoying pushing Dante’s buttons. Slowly, he gets to his feet and moves around the table. He waits until he’s standing beside me. Of course, Dante also feels the need to stand, testosterone radiating off the two of them like a bad smell as they hover on either side of me. “Not even close, Spitfire.” His gaze slowly lowers, taking in Dante’s oversized shirt and the bottom of his boxers that just peek out the bottom. His tongue runs enticingly along his lower lip before his eyes return to mine. “You might wanna change if we’re going to the gym.”

Fuck me. My mouth is dry, and the only gym I’m picturing is the one upstairs as he walks away. Shaking it off, I clear my throat and glance at Dante from the corner of my eye. He’s still glaring at the door where Enzo disappeared, and I’m pretty sure he’s wishing him dead right about now.

“I, uh, should go get changed,” I murmur, suddenly feeling awkward. I don’t think I’m ever going to be sure how to react around Dante when we’re alone in a room together. Certainly not when his best friend and lover is making me think all sorts of dirty thoughts while Dante pictures ripping his head off.

I step away from the table, dumping my mug in the sink before exiting the kitchen. It would be impossible not to notice the overbearing shadow behind me, but I ignore him as I climb the stairs. I turn to head down the corridor toward my room, but Dante’s hand reaches out and fastens around my wrist, yanking me backward.

“This way.” He practically drags me in the opposite direction, back toward his bedroom. I don’t even bother to resist—I already know there’s no point. I follow dutifully behind him, waiting until he lets go, which doesn’t happen until he has me back in his room, the door closed and his large body standing guard in front of it.

“Dante,” I sigh. “I need to get dressed.”

He steps forward until the tips of his shoes touch my toes, and reaching out, he cups my chin, tilting my head back until I meet his probing gaze. “You sleep in here now. You get dressed in here.Thisis your room.”

My brows furrow. “All my stuff is in the other room.” It’s the only argument I can come up with while his touch is making my skin tingle and his close proximity has the coconut scent of his shower gel invading my nostrils.

Letting go of my chin, he slowly brushes his fingers down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake until he links his fingers with mine. Tugging my hand, he directs me toward a door I hadn’t noticed earlier on the opposite side of the room to his closet.

“This is all yours,” he says, pushing open the door. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I peer in. My eyebrows raise, my mouth dropping open as I gape at the various rails of clothes, all different types of shoes—most of which I already know I’ll never wear—set neatly on shoe racks. My backpack and the duffle from the wedding yesterday are on a seat in the middle of the room.

“I don’t… Most of these clothes aren’t mine,” I say absently, still staring at the various dresses, skirts, and pantsuits, all of which must cost more than I make in a year at Strip Tease.

“They are now.”

I don’t even realize he’s left me alone until I hear the soft click of the door closing behind me. I take another second to just stand there and wonder what the hell my life has become before I hesitantly take a step forward, then another. Reaching out, I begin rifling through the clothes on the hangers. Most of them aren’t me, but I imagine they fit perfectly into Dante’s world. I do come across a few tops that are more my style, and even some jeans and sneakers.

When I’m done perusing, I turn my back on all the undeniably expensive clothing and turn to face my bags. Grabbing the duffle, I breathe out a sigh of relief when I find the burner still tucked away in the secret compartment I cut in the lining. I even chuckle when I find my Glock and dagger from yesterday sitting on the seat beside the bag. Dante must not see me as much of a threat if he willingly gave them back to me.

Not seeing the point in wasting any more time, I quickly change into a pair of leggings and a sports bra I found in my exploration and shove my feet into a pair of brand new, sparkling white sneakers. Throwing my long, red strands up in a high ponytail and slotting my small switchblade into the tiny inner pocket of the leggings, I’m more than ready to hit the gym and kill the next few hours until I can see my brother again.

***

“Let’s see what skills the big, bad Reaper has,” Enzo teases in my ear as we step foot onto the mats in the state-of-the-art gym. Dante had disappeared when I re-emerged from my closet, and instead, Enzo was waiting for me, dressed more casually than I’ve ever seen him. I actually had to stop and take a second to process what I was seeing. Loose-fitted shorts fell to his knees, showing off his toned calves, and he wore an oversized hoodie that did nothing to diminish his hotness factor.

Apparently, Dante had something to do first, so it was just Enzo and me for now. Given how the two of them were behaving at breakfast, I was honestly surprised Dante was willing to let us come alone, but whatever. That bullshit is their problem. I’m having nothing to do with it.

“Ha. Bring it, mafia man. Don’t you rely on your guns and minions to do all the heavy lifting?”

That gets a genuine bark of laughter from him, and he moves to face me at the opposite end of the mat. In one hell of a sexy move, he grabs the back of his hoodie and tugs it over his head. As the fabric lifts, it reveals inch after inch of glorious, tanned muscle that I can’t help but drool over. I mean, I’ve tried to imagine what he might be packing underneath his shirts, buthot damn, it is way better than I expected. He tosses the hoodie to the side, the movement thankfully pulling my mind out of the gutter before he can catch sight of my staring.

Getting into position, I crouch while I run my gaze assessingly over him—well, it’s partly assessing. Partly, I also just can’t stop staring at him. Enzo is built for brute force. He’s not as big as Cain, but with his broad shoulders, bulging biceps, and abs of fucking steel, it’s no wonder he’s Dante’s bodyguard. It’s obviously a job he takes seriously, although I know it’s more than just a profession to him. He cares about Dante. I may not be able to determine the nature of their relationship, but it’s obvious they mean something to one another—even with the pissing contest this morning. Dante wouldn’t have so easily left us together if he didn’t care for or trust him, and while there may be a severe edge behind some of the things Enzo says and does, I can see the spark in his eyes when he riles Dante up. He enjoys pushing him. And now I’m imagining what happens when Dante finally snaps.Whoa. My cheeks flame and my core pulses.

“You planning to just stand there and stare at me all day, Spitfire?”

Enzo’s teasing tone crash lands me back into reality, though I’m quick to recover, and in a flash of movement, I race toward him. My legs pump and my hand flies out in a right cross that skims off his chin as he steps back at the last second.

“Not bad.” Reacting quickly, he lashes out, catching my side with his fist. My face scrunches as pain lances through me, but I don’t dwell on it as I focus on the training Jon gave me. As we deliver blows back and forth, and all the tension building within me slowly bleeds out, I come to realize just how much I needed this. I haven’t had any sort of physical outlet since Enzo and I killed that asshole several weeks ago. I’m used to that outlet for getting all my anger and frustration out on a semi-regular basis—and that was before my life turned into a total shitshow. So by the time I’m breathing heavily and my skin is slick with sweat, I feel better than I have in weeks, despite my fear for Luc and my desire to slit Giovanni’s throat.

“I’ll give it to you,” Enzo pants when we’ve finally had enough of beating the crap out of one another. “You’re better than I expected.” He moves to grab two water bottles from a mini-fridge while I collapse onto the mat, out of breath. My muscles are heavy with fatigue, but my mind feels clearer and my soul lighter than it has been in days. Holding one of the bottles out for me, he asks, “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Twisting the cap, I shrug my shoulders. “Here ‘n’ there.” He snorts softly at my vague answer while I throw back half the bottle of water, watching as he lithely lowers himself onto the mat in front of me. Bringing his water bottle to his lips, I watch like a girl obsessed as his throat bobs with every swallow.

When he’s done, he sets the bottle on the mat beside him while his gaze slowly rakes over me, flaring with heat. He pauses on the wedding band on my finger. I left the god-awful engagement ring in Dante’s room, yet for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to take the wedding band off too. I told myself it was because I didn’t want to end up in an argument with Dante, but I’m not so sure that’s true. Or, well, the whole truth. It just felt weird when I thought about leaving it behind.

Enzo shifts on the mat, his leg brushing mine and sending a jolt of electricity through me. “Just so we’re clear.” His voice has dipped an octave, taking on a low husk that sinks into my bones and raises goosebumps along my skin. When I meet his heated gaze, I fall entranced into the swirling depths of his green eyes. “That ring won’t stop me.” He shifts again, moving closer. “Dante pissing all over you won’t stop me.” Another shuffle on the mat has him sitting directly opposite me, so close that if I leaned in, I could brush my lips against his. “You’re mine, just as much as you are his.”

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