Antonio leaned back in his seat. “We might have been at war with them for years, Dante. But your actions today gave them more ammunition to use against us.”
“How? By saving her goddamn life? I did exactly what Lorik did when Karina was in danger. Why didn’t you question his motives?”
“That was different.”
“Why? Because Layla’s not blood, or because you don’t like the fact that my loyalty lies beyond this goddamn family?”
Antonio’s stare of death was aimed right at my forehead. But I didn’t give a flying fuck. He knew it then, just like he knew it now. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman. No matter what happened in the past—how much pain she caused me.
Father cleared his throat. “The word has already spread about you and Lucio killing four of Mancuso’s men.” His stare settled on Layla. “And that you took something that belonged to him.”
“Like fuck, I did. Layla belongs to no one…but me.”
“Dante,” she whispered. “Please stop.”
“No! No, I won’t stop,” I replied loudly enough for everyone to hear. “When it was Karina’s life on the line, no one questioned Lorik’s actions. Why the fuck am I getting the third degree for doing the same thing he did?”
Antonio opened his mouth, but Dad silenced him with a simple raise of his hand.
Speculatively, he stared at Layla and me, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I would like to hear Layla’s side to all of this. But I think she’s been through enough for one day.” He got up from his seat. “Get her cleaned up, Dante. We can discuss this further in the morning.” And then he left.
I didn’t stick around either and dragged Layla out of there as quickly as I could. Dad was right. She had been through enough.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Dante. You shouldn’t be defending me.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I don’t deserve it.”
My temper flared, and I just reacted. With force, I yanked my bedroom door open and hauled both our asses inside before slamming it shut again.
“You need to stop with the bullshit, Layla. You have no fucking idea how deep this shit is.”
She snorted. “I think I kinda do.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
She pulled off her dirty jacket and tossed it on the couch in front of the window. “You think I’m all innocent in this, but I’m not, Dante.”
I walked across the room, closer to her. “Whatever he’s making you do, and whatever reason you have for doing it, I refuse to believe you’re in so goddamn deep that I can’t help you.”
She shook her head. “If only it was that simple, Dante.”
“It is that simple, Layla. Just fucking talk. Say the words, let me in, and let me help you.”
Goddammit. I was fucking desperate. I was at the point where I would plead and beg. The more I looked at her, stared into those painfully familiar eyes which reminded me of what we shared in the past, the more I started to think with my heart instead of my head…and it scared the shit out of me. My heart wasn’t supposed to be invested in this—in her. It took me too fucking long to adjust to a life with broken dreams and a broken heart. And then all it took was one glance, one moment, and I was catapulted back to being the man who would slaughter every fucking human being who stood between me and her.
I grabbed her arms and pulled her closer. “Talk to me, goddammit, Layla. What are you afraid of?”
“You!” she cried as tears flooded down her cheeks. “I’m afraid of you getting hurt, all because I made one stupid goddamn mistake.”
“What mistake?”
Sad, beautiful eyes stared up at me through long, dark lashes. “Leaving you.” She let out a breath. “I never should have left, Dante. I never should—”
I crashed my lips against hers, kissing her as if it would mean death if I didn’t. Her words forced new life into my blackened heart, making me want her more than I needed answers.
I pulled her against me, deepening our kiss. My tongue searched for hers, sweeping through her mouth, reminding me of how much I loved her taste. How I’d longed for it. Craved it.