Page 272 of Dante
"Aria." I take her hands in mine. They're small, but I know the strength in them. The strength it took to raise six children in this world. To love them fiercely while their father built an empire on blood and secrets. "There's no need for apologies. Not from you."
Her eyes glisten. "But?—"
"You took me in," I say quietly. "You fed me. You made sure I had clothes that fit and a bed to sleep in. You treated me like one of your own when you had no reason to." I squeeze her hands gently. "You've done everything for me. More than I ever deserved. And I thank you for that."
A tear slips down Aria's cheek. She reaches up and cups my face in her palm, the way she used to when I was seventeen and still flinching at unexpected touch.
"You deserved all of it," she whispers. "Every bit of it and more."
She pulls me down into a hug, and I let her hold me the way a mother holds a son. The way my own mother held me before everything was taken.
When Aria releases me, I straighten and look around the room. At the family that chose me. That fought for me. That trusted me even when I couldn't tell them the truth.
"Now," I say, my voice steady. "I need to leave for a few hours."
Bruno's brow furrows. "Where are you going?"
I don't answer him. Instead, I turn and cross the room to where Marina sits by the window. She's been watching everything with those blue-green eyes that see too much. That have always seen too much.
I extend my hand to her.
She looks at my palm, then up at my face. A question forms on her lips, but she doesn't ask it. She just places her hand in mine and lets me pull her to her feet.
Her fingers are warm. Steady. Real.
I lead her toward the door.
CHAPTER FORTY
Marina
Dante leads me through the compound's back entrance, his hand warm around mine. The afternoon sun hits my face, and I squint against the brightness after hours in that dim study.
We walk past the garage, past the row of black SUVs that all look identical, past the security checkpoint where two guards nod at Dante without a word.
Then I see it.
A motorcycle. Massive. It's the biggest bike I've ever seen up close, all sharp angles and raw power.
Dante releases my hand and walks to the bike. He picks up a helmet from the seat and turns to face me, holding it out.
"No thanks." I take a step back, shaking my head. "I'm not riding that thing."
Dante's eyebrow rises. "No?"
"Absolutely not. Look at it." I gesture at the motorcycle like it might bite me. "That thing is huge. I've never been on a bike in my life."
"It's not that different from a car."
"It's completely different from a car. Cars have doors. And roofs. And seatbelts." I cross my arms over my chest. "Things that keep you from dying."
Dante's lips twitch. That almost-smile that drives me crazy. "You managed to ride my dick pretty well."
The laugh escapes before I can stop it. I close the distance between us and smack his chest with my palm. "You're terrible."
"I'm honest." He catches my wrist, his thumb brushing over my pulse point. "There's a difference."
"There really isn't."
