Page 58 of Toxic

"I've been going to the underground clubs for years. I know how to protect myself. You don't have to worry about me. But you're okay, right?"

I sigh, deciding not to push this issue right now, either. I'm sure Gianni got under her skin, and she hasn't shaken him yet. It's best to attempt this conversation at another time. I reply, "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Good. I'm sorry again it happened. Lunch this week?"

"Sure."

"Okay. I need to get some sleep. I'll message you later."

"Night." I hang up, and a text comes in.

Dante:Are you awake?

Me:Yes.

My phone rings, and I answer. "Hey."

Dante's deep voice makes my butterflies spread their wings. "Did you dream about me?"

"You wish," I say, but my smile grows against my will. After so many years of not letting Dante affect me, he suddenly can ask one question and get my panties in a twist.

My phone buzzes with a FaceTime request. I tap the green button.

A shirtless, sweaty Dante appears. My heart pounds faster, and I tear my eyes off his chiseled pecs only to see his lips twitch. I ask, "Why are you sweaty?"

His eyes twinkle. "Just worked out. I had to get memories of last night and my sexual tension out of me."

My face heats as visuals of Dante's body and lips all over me consume my thoughts.

"Now that you're all rested up, you want me to come over?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

A laugh escapes me. "I thought you said you worked out your sexual tension."

"My dick's getting hard again from looking at you. What do you say, Bridge? I could sneak in and sneak out."

I roll my eyes. "Sure. Sneak in through my father's guards then tiptoe through the house so he doesn't see you. Fat chance."

He suggests, "You could come to mine. My wing has a private entrance."

For a brief moment, I imagine doing just that. It's something I would have done in the past. Then I snap back into reality. That was the old me. Now I'm a forty-one-year-old mother. So, despite the lure of Dante's soaked torso and the memory of his hands and tongue all over me, I reply, "Not happening."

He chuckles. "You mean not happening tonight."

"Or ever."

"We'll see about that. Anyways, I missed you with us. Remember when you used to come to my fights?"

I shift on the bed and hug my knees to my chest. The memory of the last time I went to see him when he ditched me resurfaces. Then all the times I cheered Sean on while he was in the ring in Chicago mixes with those emotions. I stay quiet, holding in the feelings that threaten to take hold and spill over.

Dante's face falls. His voice turns serious. "Why won't you let Sean fight anymore? His father was training him. He misses it."

I shake my head. "I don't want him to get hurt. The last thing he needs is a concussion. You of all people should understand that," I add since Dante no longer competes due to a concussion he got in the ring.

He says nothing for a few moments. His dark eyes study me, creating more flutters in my gut.

"Why aren't you talking? You're making me nervous," I admit.

"I understand your worry, but Sean's got a lot of anger inside him. He needs an outlet for it."

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