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)
Watching how he was with Camille tonight makes me wonder how differently my life might have turned out if my father had loved me like Dante loves Camille.
Even if it costs him everything, he will ensure she is safe and protected.
I should sleep, but I need one last glimpse of Camille to reassure myself that she’s still safe, so I tiptoe down the hallway instead. My bare feet pad silently on the polished floors and pause at Camille’s doorway just in time to hear part of Dante’s bedtime story. It’s about a brave mouse and a dragon who was once afraid of the dark.
When the story ends with the dragon always knowing the mouse will be his light, no matter which path he takes, I caress the hinges of Camille’s door and slowly open it. Heat spreads across my chest when I spot Camille. She’s sleeping peacefully with her head on Dante’s stomach and her tiny arm curled around his waist, as if afraid he’ll disappear if she lets go.
Do you need me? Dante mouths.
Strands of wet hair fall from my messy bun as I shake my head. I don’t want to steal his focus from Camille for even a second.
“I just wanted to say goodnight.”
An imaginary rope lassos around my waist and pulls me closer when he jerks up his chin, inviting me in. Under his watchful eye, I cross the room, my hips stupidly swinging like I’m gracing a catwalk.
It’s impossible not to feel tension this hot, so I don’t understand why I keep trying to ignore it.
The knot in my stomach, which hasn’t loosened for the past day, eases when I brush back a loose curl from Camille’s temple. Her temperature is nearly perfect.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.
I shoot my hand up to cover my squeak when she replies, “N-night, Lulu.”
Tears burn my eyes as euphoria surges through my veins too intensely to think about sleeping. Lulu was my nickname as a child, and although I don’t have many good memories, the people who called me Lulu are not part of the controversy.
When Camille rolls over to hug her pillow, Dante carefully slips out from under her before tucking a blanket around her. I immaturely drop a quivering lower lip when a sleepy and impossibly sweet “Night, Daddy” peeks out from beneath the pillow fort.
“I don’t ever see that getting old,” I murmur to Dante as he guides me out of Camille’s bedroom with his hand on the small of my back and his grin blazing.
“Me neither,” he admits, walking me to my room.
Our steps are slow and unhurried, neither of us eager to part. When we reach the door, with his hand resting on the doorknob, Dante hesitates.
“Do you have time to talk?” His tone is low, almost careful.
Too exhausted to pretend nothing has changed when everything has, I nod. A major shift has happened between us. It isn’t just about how he saved me or how respectfully he treats Camille. It’s the fact that he didn’t push me away when I tried to help. He let me be part of something that’s usually sacred between a parent and a child.
He let me in.
When we enter my room, Dante wastes no time.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For what I said and for how I said it. You said no, Lucia. You said no, so it shouldn’t have mattered what you were doing or how you arrived at that situation. You said no.” He shakes his head, disgusted with himself. “I had no right to make it seem like that didn’t matter.”
The raw honesty in his tone hits me harder than I expected. He isn’t apologizing out of moral duty. He’s apologizing because he truly means every word he says.
“It wasn’t my intention to hurt you. That will never be my intention. I was just scared,” he admits. “So fucking scared. Not about what they could have done to you, but about how their actions would have changed you.” His next words floor me. “You’re everything I want my daughter to become.” He points toward the door as if the men from the event are standing behind it. I don’t look in that direction because I know every one of them is currently in a morgue. “And those dumb fucks tried to steal that from you. They almost stole your light.”
Light?
As I stare at him, too overwhelmed to speak, a dangerous truth smacks into me.
The anger, the hurt, and my unbelievably frustrating jealousy the past week all make sense now.
I’m falling for him.
Tension hangs on Dante’s shoulders like a weight he’ll never fully set down, but I need to know the truth. It’s time for us both to start being honest.
“Who was she?” I could add more words to my question. I don’t need to. Dante knows exactly who I am referencing.