Page 59 of Of Grief And Gratitude

Dante sighed as if he carried the weight of the world on his stooped shoulders. He braced his palms on the counter's edge and let his head hang. “I just had to call my sisters and tell them. And my grandfather in Calabria. My mother’s father. It was… taxing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

We stood in silence for a few minutes as I munched on chips and Dante leaned, lost in thought. I poured us more whiskey and pushed his glass across the table. His hand wrapped around the glass and paused as I lifted mine, his dark eyes curious.

“To Antonella,” I began, knowing what Romeo said had been true. My words would never be enough. “May the laughter and happy memories overtake the sting of grief, and may your soul find eternal rest.”

Dante’s fingers tightened around the glass briefly, but then he lifted it in the air, and we finished the whiskey.

“Food?” I asked, holding out a chip.

He shook his head. “Not hungry.”

“Whiskey?” I held up the bottle. “I’ll get you drunk as a skunk if it helps ease your heart for an hour or two.”

Dante chuckled, low and deep, like he didn’t laugh often. “As appealing as that sounds, alcohol can’t wash away reality.”

I stepped around the counter, spreading my arms, offering the only other thing I could. “How about a hug?”

He paused, staring at me like he was trying to figure me out. I must have passed the test because he gave the barest nod. “Yeah. A hug sounds good.”

I wasn’t sure who was hugging who because Dante’s body was much larger than mine, his arms curling around my back and holding me so tight I could only take shallow little breaths. Still, I squeezed his waist hard, letting him take all the time he needed. His chin tucked against my shoulder, and I felt the fabric dampen, though there was no other hint Dante cried.

Part of me wondered if the stoic heir to the Neretti empire even knew how to release his emotions fully.

As suddenly as the hug began, Dante cleared his throat and released me, quickly turning and striding to the sliding door behind the dining table so I couldn’t see his face. “Thank you for taking care of my brother.”

“I said I would.”

“Do me a favor and keep at it a little longer?” The pleading look in Dante’s eyes made it impossible to deny him.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

And I would. Because my promise wasn’t to Romeo’s brother alone. I’d promised Antonella, too.

Chapter Seventeen

The world could go fuck itself.

And by the world, I meant my father.

The fucker permanently assigned Dario and Vito to me. He didn’t give a fuck about my safety after the bombing. They were only around to report back on everything I did. So I was determined to give them something to talk about.

I started taking walks at two in the morning. The black SUV would sit at the end of the block, trailing me until I returned home. I made it my goal to try to lose them, darting around corners when they got stuck at stoplights and standing in alleyway shadows as they drove past searching.

It only took two nights of that before they stopped trying to be covert, and one of them would hop out of the car, following ten feet behind me wherever I went. They could probably use the exercise, anyway. All weights and no cardio created muscle for show. Neretti men needed to be able to chase somebody down before pulverizing them. Really, I was doing them a favor. Call me a fucking philanthropist.

I’d switched up my timeframe tonight, leaving my apartment after three. I caught sudden movement when I passed the tinted windows of the SUV, chuckling and hoping I’d thrown somebody off. Sure enough, when I’d made it halfway down the block, I heard the engine's purr and the slam of a door, followed by a mumbled curse.

“I hope you brought your running shoes!” I called back over my shoulder. “I feel like a jog tonight!”

Setting a pace that would leave me breathless, I broke into a run. Whichever man was on foot swore again before I heard the distinct sound of dress shoes pattering on the sidewalk. That was going to leave blisters.

After ten blocks, I slowed and stretched at the corner. Vito was an entire block behind, puffing as he struggled to catch up. I shook my head as he braced an arm against the brick building.

“You should really have appropriate footwear for your job requirements,” I taunted, jogging in place.

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