Page 37 of Broken Promises
He catches my lips in a forceful, brutal kiss, fighting his way inside. His tongue skims along with mine, distracting the nest of cobras hissing in my head for a few seconds.
“Listen to me now,” he clips, inching away. “I’ll say it once, and as it befits your beautiful mind, I expect you to accept it. For two weeks, you weren’t mine. The very awareness you weren’t, drove me halfway to the fucking grave. I can’t and won’t let you leave me again. Never. You’re mine. You belong to me. You belongwithme. Now and always. Understood?”
There’s something about the way he speaks that has me swell inside. He makes the confession sound like the most natural and obvious thing in the world. I am his, and I’m always supposed to be his.
“You killed your father becauseyouloveme. Now I’ll kill anyone who’ll try to hurt you becauseIloveyou.”
My mouth turns dry, and my lips fall apart. Three simple words, powerful enough to squeeze the breath out of my lungs. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve heard those words in my life. I’m sure Dante is the first one who means what he says. I knew he loved me. I’ve felt it for a long time but knowing, and hearing are two different things.
“Again,” I breathe, my mouth twisted into a smile. “Please.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know. You accused me of loving you some time ago.”
“Of course, I knew. You did a half-ass job of hiding it.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide it.”
An innocent smile covers my face, the anger I felt three minutes ago no longer there. “Say you love me, please.”
“I love you, baby. I love you so fucking much. I want my feisty, sassy, annoying star back. I’ve got something for her.” He drags me back upstairs and sits me on the bed, walking away toward the nightstand behind my back.
The familiar sound of a gun being tucked into a holster reaches my ear, prompting a frown on my forehead. A gun? He wants me to carry a gun.
He comes to stand in front of me, runs his fingers through the artistic muddle of his dark hair, and crouches down, placing one hand to cup my knee. He holds the other one open.
A small, black box sits on top of his palm, and the lid is up, revealing a ring with a diamond the size of a pea.
“You already have one, butthisis the engagement one.”
Dante presses his cheek against my temple. “It’s not what you think,” he says, amused. “I mean, yes, it’s a ring, but not an engagement ring.”
And I’m not sure if I’m relieved or if my heart finally broke.
I’m full of joy, pride, excitement, and love this time. More than I can handle. More than Dante could hope to accept. I look from the ring to his handsome, content face. No hint of uncertainty in his eyes. He’s confident in that sexy, arrogant manner of his. He didn’t ask the question, but he didn’t have to.
I’m his... now and always.
And I’m about to throw myself into his arms when one potential explanation for the sudden, extraordinary proposal springs to mind. “Clever.” I take the ring out of the box. Regardless of the reason, it’s mine. It’ll look pretty on my finger, shimmering as it catches the daylight pouring inside the room through the windows. “You don’t touch the boss’s wife, correct? You hope at least those who respect the unwritten rule will refrain from hunting me down if I marry you?”
“If?” He smirks and stamps a kiss on my forehead. “You don’t have a choice. You know you’re too smart for your own good? The idea didn’t cross my mind, but it sure isn’t stupid. Few bosses respect the rule, especially when big money is concerned, but I know some who do.” He stands, pulling me up with him. “The ring is yours because you’re supposed to be Mrs. Carrow, not Miss Harston. I hate your surname.”
“I will be Mrs. Carrow, but only after the hit is closed.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Layla
Carlton waits for us downstairs, and just like all of Dante’s men, he acts as if I never left. He’s giving Dante a hard time, making fun of his protectiveness while checking my stitches to make sure the wounds heal at an expected rate.
“She needs the pill, too,” Dante says when Carlton finishes the thorough examination.
I cock an eyebrow in question.
“You’re not wearing the patch, and we’ve not used other protection the past two days, so you need theafterpill. This isn’t the best time to get you pregnant.”
My cheeks turn hot when I understand what pill he has in mind. And because he so blatantly spoke about our sex life with Carlton and Grace in the room. She’s dusting the wine in the wine rack, avoiding eye contact with me since Dante introduced us. I guess she can sense I don’t like her. She’s young, pretty, and Dante adores her. What’s there to like?
Dante and I were so hungry for each other at the hotel, and all day yesterday, I paid no attention to protection or lack thereof. We only used a condom the first few times we had sex before Carlton put me on birth control. Thehave you got protectioncatchphrase never rooted in my brain.
