My brother puts a hand on my shoulder. It’s a gesture of understanding. Of acceptance. And in this moment, I find myself so grateful, so fucking grateful he didn’t die the night of the massacre. So grateful he survived David.
“Take Noah with you,” he says.
“Why?”
“She trusts him. And I trust him.”
“And Scarlett?”
“I’ll talk to Scarlett. He’s not a boy anymore. She needs to let him go.”
“He’s trained?”
“Trained but untested. And young but determined. He hates Felix as much as we do. And I know he wants Mara safe.”
The pair turn and walk back into the house. I look at them. Both young. Somehow still innocent in their own way.
“She’d be better off with him,” I say, I don’t know why.
Cristiano studies me. “I don’t think so. Maybe before I’d have said yes, but no. Not anymore. No matter what, her brain works a certain way now. And as little as I like the idea of you bedding her, I can see she needs you. You saved her life. More than once and in more ways than one. She can lean on you. You’re solid. She looks to you when she’s unsure. She needs a man who’s not afraid to make her face her demons. Noah is not that man. Not yet anyway.”
“So, what you’re saying is she needs an asshole.”
“Exactly,” he says with a grin and pats my back. “And you fit the bill.”
“Fuck you,” I say in jest but as I watch them out there, there’s a part of me that still wonders if she wouldn’t be better off with Noah. Or someone like him. If I shouldn’t walk away now even though I’m not sure I can.
33
Mara
I’m sitting beside Noah in an SUV on our way to a house in Todt Hill on Staten Island. I’m relieved Dante didn’t leave me behind and glad he let Noah come. I guess after what happened last night, he wasn’t taking any chances. But I meant what I said. I don’t want to die.
“Word is out,” Matthaeus says, reading something on his phone. Dante takes a turn onto a winding, tree-lined street with fewer houses than the last, twelve-foot walls surrounding each property. “She’s Grigori property.”
I should probably be offended by that but I’m not. Not very modern of me, I know, but I want to be Dante’s. Because he’s mine. He was always meant to be mine. I catch his eye in the rear-view mirror and feel a tremor go through me. I want to be alone with him. I want to feel his weight on me. His mouth on my mouth. Him inside me.
My neck and face flush with heat.
He shifts his gaze back to the road, but I don’t miss the slight grin on his face. I wonder if he knows what I’m thinking. If he’s thinking it too.
“St. James?” he asks.
“Still at the hotel.”
“Because he’s waiting for a visit. If he knew about the attack, I’m going to kill him.”
I know this isn’t just talk. I know Dante means every word and when I see the image of him beating Alvarez to death, I shudder.
“This one is ours,” Matthaeus says, and we pull onto a driveway where the tall gates slowly open. Two armed guards stand just inside the property. From here, I can’t see the house. The place seems big and from a quick count of soldiers, well protected.
Dante glances at Noah in the rear-view mirror. I know Noah doesn’t like him. He then shifts his glance to me momentarily before shifting it back to the road.
“You two will get settled here. There are more than two dozen armed men on the property. You’ll be protected. Eat something. Relax. Get some sleep. You didn’t sleep at all on the flight.”
“What about you?” I ask.
“Matthaeus and I have an errand to run.”
“Visiting that man. St. James.”
He doesn’t reply, just slows the car to a stop. He doesn’t kill the engine. After climbing out he opens my door and helps me, then closes it. We stand, me with my back pressed against the SUV, him leaning on one arm, hand directly over my head. The other hand closes over my pelvic bone.
“Promise me you’re going to eat something.” I’m too skinny. I know.
“I’ll eat. Thanks for letting Noah come.”
“That was Cristiano’s idea.”
“Why don’t you like him?”
He glances over the top of the SUV I guess at Noah. “I don’t dislike him,” he says when he looks back at me.
“Word play.” I don’t look away from him. I feel like every time I see him could be the last time. “I’m scared for you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He leans in close, tilting his head, scruff of his jaw against my cheek as his breath raises goosebumps along the nape of my neck. I feel him inhale, feel his lips on the underside of my jaw just below my ear and that sensation goes right to my core. I wrap my hands around his shoulders, reassured by the sheer strength of this man.