“Let me go... I want to fall asleep and pretend that today never happened. Frank, Luca, you, and the high-maintenance idiot upstairs!” Tears betray me rolling down my cheeks to fuel the fire inside my head. “Enough!”
Dante hushes me with a kiss. His lips battle with mine, his hands in my hair, his body pressing hard against mine. I’m grateful for the distraction, for his possessiveness, because all I need to get a hold of myself is him. I kiss him back, fisting his leather jacket when he moves his hands to cup my face. It’s just us, lost in each other, the moment, and all the conflicting emotions running through us.
“I’m sorry I asked you to come.” He brushes his lips over my nose and takes my hand, intertwining our fingers. “We’re going home. I want to watch you fall asleep.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Dante
Layla wakes me up, jumping on the bed. I can’t complain, she wears my shirt and white panties.
Her messy hair fans her too-breezy-for-seven-thirty-in-the-morning face. Her hands, in which she must hold a gift, are tucked behind her back as she rocks from left to right.
“Merry Christmas!” She gives me enough time to rub the sleep away from my eyes before she shoves a small box into my hand. “Open it!”
“Good morning to you too.” I go about untying the white bow while her face fills with frustration. She lasts ten seconds, then tears the paper, tossing it on the floor. “Why did you bother wrapping it?” I open the lid on a brown leather box to find a watch inside.
The same one I wanted to buy but had no time for shopping. The Christmas schedule is filled to the brim. Demand is through the roof. Lonely people search for a brief high to forget about reality, regular customers stock up to save themselves supply trips while the streets fill with joy and clubs order double the usual amounts expecting higher traffic.
Three trucks a week are now six. Drugs are being delivered hidden everywhere, even in the fuel tanks. The more courageous drivers stuff their mattresses to earn extra cash. As fate would have it, the last two deliveries came hidden in tires. Twelve of my men emptied the trailers for eight hours straight while I checked that the quantities delivered matched what the V brothers sent. I haven’t had much time for Layla, let alone shopping.
Good thing I had her gift ready last month.
“Thank you.” I clasp the watch on my wrist and lean over the bed to open the drawer. Layla eyes the small, red box with a faint blush on her cheeks. “It’s not what you think,” I say, amused by the mortified look on her pretty face. “Well, yes, it’s a ring, but not an engagement ring.” I pull her into my arms, her back to my chest. “Remember what you told me the first night in Delta when I asked what you dreamed of?”
“A little shooting star.” She imitates the mocking tone she used then.
My chin rests on her shoulder as I open the box.
“A little shooting star?” she asks quietly.
I put the ring on her finger, pleased that it fits perfectly. “This,” I point to the star made out of platinum, “is the little star, and this,” I touch the black stone in the middle, “is a real star.”
“I don’t understand.” She moves to the side to look at me. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a shooting star, baby.”
“Are you saying this is a meteorite? Where did you get it?”
“They’re not that rare. There’s a lot of jewelry with meteorites, but this was made to order. It took the jeweler a while to locate the right stone.”
Layla pushes me flat on my back and straddles me, leaning over to kiss my lips. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
“And what do you dream of now?”
“I dream things won’t change and that you’ll always be mine. I want you to remember that I love you so much that it hurts. It’s not possible to love more.”
I think the same, but my mind and heart prove me wrong each day. “Consider me yours as long as you want me.”
She arches back, resting on the pillows with a content smile. “Stop the time.”
“I got you a shooting star, but this... you’ll need to ask Santa.”
“Okay, fine. I want a cat. A ginger one with a flat nose.”
I catch her legs, slide her closer and throw her over my shoulder. “You’re not getting a cat. Now, show me what you bought yesterday.”
I arrived home late last night, too exhausted to check the state of the house. It probably resembles Santa’s Grotto. Layla asked if she could buy a Christmas tree and some decorations, so I sent her shopping with my black Amex card, Luca, and two other guys to keep her safe.