I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth before I slipped into my lingerie. Showtime. I stepped out of the bathroom. Dante was already in bed, his iPad in hand and back propped up against the headboard. He looked up, eyes wandering the length of my body, lingering on all the right places. Anticipation mixed with nerves filled me as I slowly walked toward the bed, making sure Dante got a good look at me. He hadn’t looked away yet, but he hadn’t put down his iPad either. I stretched out beside him, my back against the headboard. I didn’t bother pulling the covers up. I wanted Dante to see as much of me as possible.
I met his gaze. As usual his eyes were unreadable, but they weren’t quite as cool as usual. He set the iPad down on his nightstand and I almost sighed with relief, but then he shifted and lay down. Confused, I did the same, but I rolled onto my side, facing his way. He hadn’t turned the lights out yet. That had to be a good sign, and I knew he kept glancing toward my breasts. If I was more experienced, I would have initiated things, but I worried about revealing my inexperience to Dante if I risked it. If he made the first move, I could go along with him and would hopefully appear like the experienced woman I was supposed to be.
Dante tore his gaze away, closed his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his stomach. His jaw was locked tightly. Was he angry? He looked like he was on the verge of bursting. Maybe he didn’t like that I was being so forward and practically shoving my breasts into his face. Maybe he preferred his women demure and scared of their own shadow.
Frustrated, I rolled onto my back as well. “What happened to Gaby?” If we didn’t have sex, we might as well talk. Anything was better than the awkward silence.
Dante kept his eyes closed. “What do you mean?”
“She said she’s been working for you for three years, but she’s only seventeen. Shouldn’t she be going to school?”
Dante’s eyes peeled open, cool and blue, and firmly focused on the ceiling. “Three years ago we attacked two Russian clubs as retribution. They’re making the majority of their money with human trafficking. The women in their clubs are mostly sex slaves. Women and girls who were kidnapped and then forced into prostitution. When we took over the two clubs, we had to figure out what to do with the women. We couldn’t let them run around Chicago after what they’d witnessed.”
My stomach turned. “You killed them?”
Dante didn’t even twitch. “Most of them were illegals. We sent them back into the Ukraine or Russia. The others were relocated. Those who wanted to work in our clubs, we kept.”
“So what about Gaby?”
“She was a child. The younger girls we found were sent to families, where they could work as maids or cooks.”
“Or become mistresses,” I said, because I had no doubt that some Made Men couldn’t keep their hands off a helpless girl under their roof.
Dante frowned. “Even among Made Men, pedophilia isn’t tolerated, Valentina.”
“I know, but Gaby doesn’t exactly look like a child anymore, nor do the other girls you captured, I presume.”
Dante fixed me with a hard glare. “Are you suggesting I touched Gaby?”
“She almost died from fear today when Luca moved. Maybe one of your men…”
“No,” Dante said firmly. “She hasn’t been abused in any way since she came into this house. She’s under my protection. My men know that.”
“Okay.” I believed him, and I also believed that none of his men dared to go against Dante’s direct orders. If Gaby was under his protection, she was safe. “I bet those girls would have made you a lot of money. There’s a reason why the Russians kidnap young girls. Why the qualms? It’s not like the Outfit doesn’t have its own clubs with prostitutes, and it’s not like those women can just stop working for the mob whenever they want.” I was honestly curious. Dante was a killer after all.
“The Outfit isn’t in the business of sex slaves. The women in our clubs start working for us on their own free will, and they know that they’ll be bound to us forever. We make enough money with our casinos and drugs, we don’t need sex slaves or illegal racing like the Russians and the Camorra in Las Vegas.”
“What about New York, do they deal in sex slaves?”
“No. That’s really only the Vegas Camorra. I’m not saying that there aren’t voices in the Outfit who would like to change that, but as long as I’m Capo that won’t happen.”
“That’s good,” I said.
Dante’s eyes softened for a moment, but then he turned away and extinguished the lights.
“Good night,” I whispered. I was still disappointed that Dante didn’t touch me, but at least he’d talked to me as if we were equals, not like I was a brainless woman who didn’t need to know anything about the business.
“Good night, Valentina,” Dante said into the dark. There was something in his voice I couldn’t identify, perhaps wistfulness, but I wasn’t sure.
CHAPTER SEVEN
If I’d thought last night’s chat with Dante would make him reconsider our seating arrangements during breakfast or even make him want to talk to me, I’d been horribly wrong. Like yesterday, he disappeared behind his newspaper after a quick greeting. I wasn’t in the mood to fight for his attention. I was too confused and hurt by his continued disinterest in me. I only picked at some fruit and drank a cup of coffee before I decided to excuse myself. Dante didn’t even look up from his newspaper when I walked out.
Usually I would have asked him if he wanted me to take one of his men as guard with me to Bibiana’s house, but I was too angry. I had a driver’s license. Antonio had wanted me to get one after we married, which sadly wasn’t the norm for men in our world. After I’d put on a coat and grabbed my purse, I walked into the garage. Dante had given me keys for the house and the garage. Of the three cars parked there, the Mercedes GL was the least attention-grabbing. I took the car keys from a hook at the wall and slipped into the car. It took me a moment to find the button in the dashboard that opened the garage, but finally I steered the car outside and down the driveway. A guard I didn’t know patrolled the fence but didn’t try to stop me when I opened the gate with a press of another button. I drove off the premises and the gate closed automatically behind me.
It felt good to drive again, even if I didn’t like Chicago traffic, but it had been too long since I had been allowed to drive by myself. My parents had been too determined to keep me under their watch after Antonio’s death to let me go out alone. I knew the way to Bibiana’s home by heart, had driven it countless times over the years, and it took me only ten minutes from Dante’s mansion.
Bibiana’s and Tommaso’s house was much smaller than either Dante’s or my parents’. They didn’t have a long driveway where I could have parked. Instead I had to leave my car in the street. Not that I was worried someone might steal it. Streets where mob members lived were usually quite safe, unless you counted the risk of attacks from the Bratva or Triad. I walked up to their front door, noticing one of Tommaso’s men sitting in a car on the other side of the street and watching the house. Tommaso wasn’t as highly ranked as the men in my family or the Scuderis, but he wasn’t a simple soldier either. He always kept a guard near the house to watch over Bibiana, or what I suspected: to make sure she didn’t run away.
The guard didn’t stop me, only tilted his head in a gesture of respect. I rang the bell. Bibiana opened the door, then glimpsed behind me. “Where are your guards?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t take any. Dante never said I had to take guards.”
“Won’t you get in trouble?” she asked as she closed the door and led me into their living room. As usual her husband wasn’t home. Bibiana, of course, didn’t mind. She’d gained a couple of pounds since Tommaso had been forced to work long hours. Now she didn’t look quite as emaciated anymore.
“Why would I?” I said. I wasn’t even sure if Dante cared if I left the house without protection. He seemed too busy with God knows what.
Bibiana gave me a worried look. “You should be careful. Dante is a dangerous man. He always looks so calm and in control, but Tommaso told me Dante doesn’t tolerate disobedience.”
That didn’t really come as a surprise, but I couldn’t disobey him if he didn’t give me an order in the first place. “I’m not one of his soldiers.”
I sank down on the sofa. Bibiana took a seat beside me, curiosity filling her face. “So how was your wedding night?”
My lips twisted. “I slept well,” I said sarcastically.
Bibiana blinked at me. “Huh? That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant,” I said, frustrated. “Nothing happened. Dante gave me the cold shoulder.”
“He didn’t try to sleep with you? What about last night?” I wished Bibiana didn’t sound so stunned; it made me feel even worse. As if somehow it was my fault that I hadn’t managed to make Dante want me. I knew she didn’t mean it that way.
“He didn’t even kiss me. He just lay down beside me and said he had an early day, and then he turned off the light and fell asleep. What kind of wedding night is that?” I leaned my head against the backrest. “I don’t get it.”
“Maybe he really was tired,” Bibiana said tentatively.
I gave her a look. “Do you truly believe that? He looked fit enough to me. And what about yesterday? Was he tired then too?” I bit my lip. “Do you think it’s still because of his wife?”
Bibiana twisted a strand of her brown hair around her finger nervously. “Maybe. I hear he adored her. They were the dream couple in Chicago.”
I’d never paid much attention to Dante and his wife in the past, but I remembered seeing them together at social gatherings. I remembered thinking they looked like they belonged together. There were few couples in our world who appeared to love each other. Most of us married for convenience, but with Dante and Carla you had seen that they were meant to be together. Fate was cruel for ripping them apart, and even crueler for throwing me into the arms of a man who’d already found the love of his life once. “Maybe he hasn’t been with a woman since his wife died. That could be the reason why he didn’t try to consummate our marriage.”
Bibiana avoided my gaze and reached for a macaron on the silver étagère on the table in front of us. She shoved it into her mouth and chewed as if it afforded all of her concentration. Dread filled my stomach. “Bibi?”
Her eyes darted to me, then they were gone again. She swallowed and reached for another sweet, but I grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “You know something. Did Dante have a lover since his wife’s death?”
Bibiana sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you.”
The words hollowed me out. “Didn’t want to tell me what?”
What if Dante had a steady lover? Someone he couldn’t marry for social and political reasons. Maybe that’s why he chose me, a widow, because he didn’t want to screw over a poor innocent girl like that. My head started spinning.
Bibiana gripped my hand tightly. “Hey, it’s not that bad. Calm down. You look like you’re going to pass out any moment.”
I reached for a green macaron and stuffed it into my mouth. The sweet taste of pistachio spread on my tongue and I relaxed slightly. “So spill before I come up with more horrible scenarios.” I could tell Bibiana wanted to ask what kind of scenarios had popped into my mind, but thankfully she didn’t. Bibiana knew me well enough to guess anyway. We’d been friends since we could both walk. She was the cousin closest in age to me and we’d always spent every free minute together. Even in school we’d been inseparable, except for the classes that we didn’t share because I was a year ahead. But it was difficult to make friends among normal kids, so we’d stuck together. That hadn’t changed after we’d married. If possible we’d gotten even closer, because we both could share our marriage troubles with each other without having to worry that anything would get out.
“My husband told me Dante frequented Club Palermo for a while.”
I froze. Club Palermo was a mob-owned nightclub with pole dancing, striptease and prostitution. Bibiana’s husband was the manager of the club. “What do you mean?”
Bibiana’s cheeks turned red. She looked like she regretted ever having brought it up. “He used prostitutes for sex.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to figure out why this hurt so much. Only last night we’d talked about prostitution; why hadn’t he mentioned something? I could almost see how that conversation would have gone. “Not anymore, right?”
“Oh no, it happened a while ago. About a year after his wife’s death, he had a rough stretch and came into the Club a couple of times per week to ‘let off some steam,’ as Tommaso put it.”
It had been way before our marriage, and yet the knowledge that Dante had slept with prostitutes, but hadn’t even tried to kiss me, hurt a lot. “So he has no problem sleeping with other women, he just doesn’t want to sleep with me.”
“No, that’s not true. And like I said, he hasn’t visited Club Palermo in a long time.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t want to sleep with me. With Antonio, I could deal with it. I knew it was nothing personal. He wasn’t into me because he wasn’t into women, but what’s the reason for Dante’s disinterest? Maybe he doesn’t find me attractive.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Val. You’re gorgeous. He’d have to be blind not to be into you. Maybe he didn’t want to push you? You lost your husband less than a year ago, and Dante doesn’t know that you and Antonio were never a real couple.”
“It’s not like I don’t miss Antonio,” I said defensively. “I miss our conversations, and that he confided in me.”
“I know you do, but you don’t miss him physically. Maybe Dante thinks you’re not ready to be intimate with another man.”
I pondered that. It seemed like a logical explanation, and Dante was nothing if not a logical man. On the other hand, Dante was also a Made Man, and they usually didn’t suffer from excessive sensitivity. “How many men do you know who would care about that?”
Bibiana grimaced. “Tommaso definitely wouldn’t.”
“See,” I said, feeling even more miserable. “It’s unlikely that Dante’s conscience is keeping him from sleeping with me. He’s a killer, and a skilled one at that. He’s the Boss for a reason.”
“That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have some scruples. I know that he strongly disapproves of rape.”
I snorted. “He disapproves?”
Bibiana gave me a stern look. “I’m serious. Dante told his men that he’d castrate anyone who would use rape as a form of torture, punishment or entertainment. Tommaso hates it because he thinks he should be allowed to do whatever he wants with the women in Club Palermo.”
I didn’t doubt that for one second. I’d lost count of the times he’d raped Bibiana. Of course, nobody called it rape in our world because she was his wife and her body belonged to him. Thinking about it made me sick. “Okay, so he has qualms about a couple of things.” It made sense after what he’d said about Gaby yesterday. Maybe he really didn’t want to initiate anything with me because he thought I was still mourning Antonio.
“Maybe you should make the first move?” Bibiana said.
“I pranced around him half-naked yesterday; what else can I do?”
“You could kiss him. Touch him.”
I knew how to kiss. Antonio had kissed me a few times. It had been nice, for me at least, so kissing Dante was definitely something I could do. “Touch him? Do you mean his you-know-what?”
Bibiana flushed. “I guess so? I never initiated anything with Tommaso, but he always wants me to touch him there and blow him.” Bibiana took another macaron. I knew she hated talking about sex with Tommaso. Who wouldn’t?
“Touching him can’t be too hard.”
“Oh, it’ll be hard.”