Page 36 of Ruthless

When he spins like he might hunt the jerk down and finish the job, I snag him by the shirt. “Stop. Please don’t leave me here again.”

An emotion that resembles guilt flashes across his face. He opens his mouth. Closes it again.

My pulse drums in my throat. Is this…does Dante actually care? “I’m okay.”

His expression softens before a wall slams down between us. “Don’t get any ideas. I only did that to protect my property. I can’t let someone disrespect me like that.”

His property. Right. Silly me for believing there was more to it than that.

My chest aches as he unhooks the leash from the tree and lets it fall to my side. When I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, he zeroes in on the tiny motion. For a heartbeat, I think he might kiss me, but then he shakes his head before angling it away.

Sighing, I gaze blindly out into the crowd. “You didn’t hurt him too badly, did you?”

He growls. “You know he was trying to buy you for sex, right? And that was before he tried to punch you. I swear, you’d hate to see even the lowest gutter rat in pain, no matter how pathetic or diseased it might be. You need to learn that in my world, compassion is a weakness.”

I lift my wobbly chin. “Then I guess I’m weak.”

He glares. “That softheartedness will get crushed out of you sooner or later.” When I refuse to react, he kneads the back of his neck and scans the sidewalk one last time. “Andy will survive.”

He doesn’t tack onfor now, though I hear it. And I don’t ask for reassurances.

“Okay.”

When I reach for his hand, he freezes for an instant and then laces our fingers into a death grip. “Remember, you’re mine to do with as I please. I don’t need to justify myself, least of all to you.”

“Okay,” I repeat.

As he leads me away, his words repeat in my head. Yet no matter how many times my mind replays them, I can’t seem to decide.

Was he attempting to convince me…or himself?

Back in the car, I clutch the straps of my seat belt. “You’re bleeding.”

The scratches covering Dante’s forearm look like defensive wounds, though I don’t ask. Mainly because I don’t want to know what he was doing when he got them.

Dante’s jaw clenches, then relaxes. “So?”

I nervously lick my dry lips. “So, let me see.” It feels like I’m poking a beast, but my survival hinges on taming him, and now’s as good a time as any to test his defenses. Dante goes rigid, and his eyes harden like flint.

I sigh and stare out the window. “Do you remember when we first met?” My breath fogs the glass, and from beside me, leather rustles as Dante shifts in his seat.

I was working as a receptionist at Staten Island Teaching Hospital, and several young men from the local fraternity were drunk and harassing me after work one night. I kept asking them to leave me alone, but they followed me for a block before I ran into Dante. Literally ran nose-first into his chest as I rounded the corner.

To be fair, he didn’t have to do much. Not with his darkened eyes, thatCreation of Adamtattoo on the side of his neck on full display, and the expensive suit that did nothing to camouflage his visibly brutal strength.

With a cigar clenched between his teeth and smoke swirling up around his head, he took one glance at me and gestured at a group of boys who abruptly realized they had better things to do and scattered like leaves in the wind.

Dante took me out to dinner that same evening before eventually dropping me off at home, and the rest is history.

I echo what I said that night. “You’re trouble. You’ve always been trouble.” He doesn’t answer, but I notice his fingers loosen a little around the steering wheel, which gives me a spark of hope.

Obviously, I’m losing my mind. The man led me around today on a pearl-studded leash and tied me to atree. Checking on him should be the last thing on my mind. But him coming to my defense reminds me of the day I first fell for him. He’s the only person who’s ever made me feel safe, and I soften toward him despite my common sense screaming at me.

“Let me see your arm.” I say it again, more sternly, and this time, he capitulates with a reluctant sigh.

“Fine.”

He drops his hand in my lap, resting his fingers on my upper thigh. My heart races as I trace the marks. He’s warm. Large. Even in stillness, his strength is evident. With a sudden burst of bravery—or possibly stupidity—I decide to push my luck.