Page 48 of Ruthless

I don’t care what she says. It’s clear that Dante has two sides, and I can’t tell which one is the real him. Maybe they both are. Or maybe it’s neither. All I know for sure is that he brings out who I used to be too. It’s the version of me that can’t help but love him. The version of me willing to follow him anywhere, even to hell.

Dante’s chipping away at the walls I’ve been fortifying ever since he ejected me from his life, and the bottom drops out of my stomach as I realize I’m falling for him all over again. For every ghost of the past, though, a dozen more cruelties prove his old self no longer exists.

I need to find a way to help him and to save myself without involving my heart, becausethisDante seems incapable of loving me ever again, even if I can’t say the same about him.

Chapter 17

Dante

Saffron, an Italian restaurant in Midtown, isn’t my typical choice when it comes to dining out. For one, I don’t usually eat at small mom-and-pop holes-in-the-wall. As a rule, I generally avoid Midtown like the plague. Too many tourists polluting the streets. Still, tonight’s a special occasion, and this restaurant has an undeniable New York charm.

Rain drizzles on our heads as Sara and I rush under the green overhang. She slips through ahead of me, providing an excellent view of her delectable ass. The lavender halter dress hugs her curves before falling loosely around her thighs, and a sinful pair of nude heels stretch her legs like a skyscraper.

The color of the fabric deepens the blue of her eyes and highlights the gold in her hair. The style reminds me of the way she used to dress.

“Table for two?” A tattooed twentysomething at the hostess stand gives us both a smile and grabs two laminated menus from a pile. I jerk my chin at her in answer, and she tucks a brown dread behind one ear and spins on her heel. “Awesome. Right this way.”

Placing a hand on the small of Sara’s back, I guide her through the restaurant after the young woman. Beneath myhand, Sara practically vibrates with tension. This is her first time out of the basement since we started fucking. More importantly, it’s the first time I’ve allowed her out without either the collar or the leash.

If I were her, I’d be waiting for the other shoe to drop too.

The hostess leads us through a room with hanging bulbs and exposed brick that feels intimate despite packed tables, stopping at a booth across from the wood-carved bar. Once Sara sits, I slide into the seat across from hers. I could trap her, threaten her, but instead I tangle my fingers together on the table.

She eyes me suspiciously. “Why are we here?”

I raise a brow. She’s cute when she’s irritated with me, but I can’t afford to fall back into old habits. “To eat?”

Sara scoffs. “We were supposed to have dinner here the night…” She pauses to clear her throat. “That night. We were supposed to have dinner herethatnight.”

Turmoil churns in my gut, and I fight the swell of emotion. The fact that she remembers saves me from carving the message into her so she never forgets.

An older woman with a short gray ponytail drops off a couple glasses of water. “I’m Patty, and I’ll be right back to take your order.” With that, she flits off to check on another party in her section.

I barely notice, too focused on Sara. The way her throat works. The way she blinks too many times. The way her voice softens. “Dante.”

I can almost see the weight of history stripping her of her resolve. My lip curls, and whatever she notes in my expression prompts her to drop her eyes.

A knot forms in my stomach. I realize I don’t enjoy it when she draws back and goes meek. I know I’ve earned that reaction, but watching her roll over and accept my shitty treatment triggers a pained twist behind my ribs.

When she lifts her chin, some of the knot unravels. “If you brought me here just to terrorize me some more, get on with it. The sooner you have your fun, the sooner I can go back to my cell.”

Mind games aremyweapon of choice, so why am I letting her get to me? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her eyes blaze. “We’ve played this one before.” Sara leans in, and her fingers twitch with what I suspect is an urge to strangle me. “I complain, you insult me, then you threaten Jeremy, and?—”

I interrupt before she can finish laying out all my terrible deeds. “I’m not hurting your brother, Sara. Jeremy’s fine.”

Her lips part. “What? How do yo?—?”

“I had Luca run by SilverTech this morning.” I sip my water and eye her over the rim of my glass. “He’s fine. Happy. And buying whatever bullshit story you’ve been selling him, which benefits everyone.”

The words are a veiled warning to her and myself about what’s at stake.

Before Sara has a chance to respond, the server returns. “You two ready?” Patty glances between us hesitantly.

“We’ll share a margherita pizza, the pasta alla Genovese, and will have two house salads.Nogarlic. Oh, and bring your nicest bottle of red wine for the table.”

Once the server finishes scratching on her pad, she gathers the menus and hightails it to the kitchen, leaving Sara and me alone again.