Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Camille doesn’t talk, but I keep her nerves calm by reminding her how much better I feel since the dentist fixed my tooth.
When her name is called, panic flashes through her eyes. I squeeze her hand before guiding her into the room I had been in less than twenty minutes ago.
The dentist smiles as Camille climbs onto the dental chair without letting go of my hand, then shows her the tools she’ll use during the appointment.
Camille’s grip on my hand slackens when Dr. Baglio uses the bumpy drill to tickle her stomach. It fully relaxes when the tickle path moves to her hands. She’s so eager to feel the vibrations of its whirrs that she holds both hands out, palms up.
While smoothing the crinkles in my coat, I glance at the exit. I could slip away now, and no one would be the wiser. I’m a stranger who unexpectedly entered their day, so staying would be more intrusive than helpful. Not only for Camille and her father, but for myself as well.
Believing Camille is distracted enough to miss my departure, I tilt toward the door. Before I take even a single step, a hand shoots out and snatches up my arm. Sparks jump from my skin, sudden and electric.
Stunned by the strength and circumference of Camille’s grip, I crack my neck back. My throat dries when my eyes don’t land on the tiny Sicilian I was expecting. This Sicilian native is much taller, and his gaze is far more detrimental to my sanity.
Camille didn’t grab me.
Her father did.
“Stay,” he says, his expression earnest and desperate. “She’ll never forgive me if I let you get away. I have a lot of ground to make up, so the last thing I need is another reason for her to hate me.”
I stare at him, caught between the awkwardness of lingering like a loser and the unexpected warmth of feeling needed.
For a long time, no one has desired me for anything beyond my body.
After a deliberation nowhere near long enough for the tenseness of the situation, I smile sheepishly and nod. “I’ll stay until her appointment is over.”
Relief spreads across his face, and Camille brightly smiles, still attentive enough to catch the exchange between her father and me.
I can only pray she can’t feel the sparks.
I don’t want her to get burned.
Needing distance before I set alight, I help Camille put on the sunglasses that will shield her eyes from any hazards, while recalling how doing the right thing isn’t always the easiest thing to do.
More often than not, it means staying to fight even when it’s safer to run.
Chapter 2
Dante
The door to the dental office washroom swings open, and Camille steps out, clutching the stranger’s hand and the blue sticker Dr. Baglio gave her after her filling. She refused to use the facilities without the woman she’d only recently met by her side. It’s a unisex toilet, for fuck’s sake, but Camille still shunted me into the dark like I can’t give her every wish her heart desires.
A red flush spreads across Camille’s cheeks when she notices my watch. Her eyes, identical to mine in every way, shine brightly, and for the first time today, she isn’t on the verge of crying.
I exhale the breath I’ve been holding since we left our family compound this morning, relieved she made it through her appointment without tears or drama. The quiet bravery I’ve been trying to coax from her for the past six months surfaced during her twenty-minute-long appointment.
When the stranger follows Camille’s gaze, I stand taller. I still don’t know her name, but it must be exotic. It needs to be to suit her curves, stunning face, and classic hair. She has the glamor of the foreign starlets who light up our screens year-round.
I may not like that Camille has immediately taken to her, but I understand it. Even while she thought I was a monster lurking in the shadows, the blonde’s calm, reassuring nature during her interactions with Camille was inspiring—in more ways than I care to admit.
To my surprise, my cock hardened when she stood toe-to-toe with me and held her ground. Everyone else flinched in fear, but not her. All five foot two, jabbing me in the chest without a flicker of concern passing through her striking eyes.
Don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. I’m also frustrated by how she barged into our lives, demanding answers to questions that weren’t hers to ask. Any time I tried to respond, she cut me off with a glare that seemed impossible for someone her size. She didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know Camille or me, but she saw a frightened kid and refused to leave.
I respect that, even if it makes me the villain.
I’m used to being the antihero. It’s second nature when you grow up in a family like mine. The Carusos’ reputation stretches back generations. Mafia blood runs deep in my veins. I spent most of my life in the darkness of the Cosa Nostra, learning to survive in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty is currency. I know what it means to be feared, respected, and watched.