“I wasn’t trying to provoke you,” I said matter-of-factly. “I was hungry and I didn’t want to eat by myself, so I decided to eat in the kitchen.”
“You should keep your distance to the guards. I don’t want people to misconstrue your friendliness with something else.”
I took a step back. “Are you accusing me of flirting with your men?”
“No,” he said simply. “We would have a different kind of conversation if I thought you were flirting with them.”
I raised my chin, unwilling to let him intimidate me, no matter how intimidating he was. “I won’t eat alone.”
“Would you prefer we have dinner together every night?”
“Of course, I do,” I said exasperatedly. There were many things I wanted to do together with him at night. “We are married. Isn’t that what married people do?”
“Did you and Antonio eat together?”
“Yes, unless he was away for work.” Or had a date with his lover Frank.
Dante nodded, as if he was filing away the information. I’d heard someone once say that he had a photographic memory, which made him a difficult opponent to outsmart, but I wasn’t sure if it was true.
I softened my voice. “What about you and your first wife? Did you eat together?”
I could practically see his defenses coming up. A veil of cold emotionlessness seemed to slide over his face. He pushed up his sleeve, revealing his gold watch. “It’s late. I have an early morning with meetings in our casinos.”
“Oh, sure.”
“You don’t have to go to bed if you’re not tired.”
“No, the wine’s making me sleepy.” We both walked out of the kitchen and headed upstairs. This time Dante disappeared in the bathroom first. I rummaged in my drawer for a skimpy satin camisole and matching panties that barely covered my butt. Maybe that would get Dante’s cold blood boiling.
I nervously paced the bedroom, wondering if tonight would be the night. Maybe yesterday had been a sort of grace period. The door of the bathroom opened and Dante stepped back into the bedroom. Like yesterday he was naked from the waist up. I allowed myself a few moments to admire his body. Even the scars didn’t make him any less gorgeous. If possible they added to his sexiness. Dante paused and I quickly tore my eyes away and rushed into the bathroom.
I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth before I slipped into my lingerie. Showtime. I stepped out of the bathroom. Dante was already in bed, his iPad in hand and back propped up against the headboard. He looked up, eyes wandering the length of my body, lingering on all the right places. Anticipation mixed with nerves filled me as I slowly walked toward the bed, making sure Dante got a good look at me. He hadn’t looked away yet, but he hadn’t put down his iPad either. I stretched out beside him, my back against the headboard. I didn’t bother pulling the covers up. I wanted Dante to see as much of me as possible.
I met his gaze. As usual his eyes were unreadable, but they weren’t quite as cool as usual. He set the iPad down on his nightstand and I almost sighed with relief, but then he shifted and lay down. Confused, I did the same, but I rolled onto my side, facing his way. He hadn’t turned the lights out yet. That had to be a good sign, and I knew he kept glancing toward my breasts. If I was more experienced, I would have initiated things, but I worried about revealing my inexperience to Dante if I risked it. If he made the first move, I could go along with him and would hopefully appear like the experienced woman I was supposed to be.
Dante tore his gaze away, closed his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his stomach. His jaw was locked tightly. Was he angry? He looked like he was on the verge of bursting. Maybe he didn’t like that I was being so forward and practically shoving my breasts into his face. Maybe he preferred his women demure and scared of their own shadow.
Frustrated, I rolled onto my back as well. “What happened to Gaby?” If we didn’t have sex, we might as well talk. Anything was better than the awkward silence.
Dante kept his eyes closed. “What do you mean?”
“She said she’s been working for you for three years, but she’s only seventeen. Shouldn’t she be going to school?”
Dante’s eyes peeled open, cool and blue, and firmly focused on the ceiling. “Three years ago we attacked two Russian clubs as retribution. They’re making the majority of their money with human trafficking. The women in their clubs are mostly sex slaves. Women and girls who were kidnapped and then forced into prostitution. When we took over the two clubs, we had to figure out what to do with the women. We couldn’t let them run around Chicago after what they’d witnessed.”
My stomach turned. “You killed them?”
Dante didn’t even twitch. “Most of them were illegals. We sent them back into the Ukraine or Russia. The others were relocated. Those who wanted to work in our clubs, we kept.”
“So what about Gaby?”
“She was a child. The younger girls we found were sent to families, where they could work as maids or cooks.”
“Or become mistresses,” I said, because I had no doubt that some Made Men couldn’t let their hands off a helpless girl under their roof.
Dante frowned. “Even among Made Men, pedophilia isn’t tolerated, Valentina.”
“I know, but Gaby doesn’t exactly look like a child anymore, nor do the other girls you captured, I presume.”
Dante fixed me with a hard glare. “Are you suggesting I touched Gaby?”