"Do you not want to come up?" she asked.
"Wasn't sure I was invited."
"That's never stopped you before," she said. "Besides, I think it's pretty clear by now that you've got an open invitation."
"You think so? Because that wasn't clear on this end. I've been expecting to pop in one day and be greeted by a restraining order."
"Well, you still might," she joked, "but until then, you might as well come hang out. I've got exciting plans that involve walking around wearing no pants. I'm going to eat a ton of food, maybe binge-watch some Grey's Anatomy so I can roll my eyes and complain about everything they screw up, which is usually, well, everything."
Dante cut the engine. "You had me at 'no pants'."
"Figures."
When they made it up to her apartment, the first thing Gabriella did was kick off her shoes and start stripping, even before Dante got the door closed again. She left a trail on her way to her bedroom, which Dante stepped over as he headed for the couch.
"Make yourself at home," she told him, yanking her hair down out of a ponytail, letting the waves fall around her shoulders. "There are drinks in the fridge and the remote is on the coffee table. I'm going to take a shower and wash off the hospital stink."
Unlike the new car smell, hospital stink was offensive.
She waltzed out of her bedroom, carrying a pile of fresh clothes, wearing only her bra and underwear, and made her way into the tiny bathroom. It took her barely ten minutes to shower, but when she resurfaced, the apartment was empty.
Son of a…
She scowled, something stirring inside of her that she wasn't fond of—disappointment. Loneliness was a bitter sensation, one she didn't like to taste, but it coated her insides as she inhaled, breathing in the air she used to be grateful to not have to share. She loved living alone, being out on her own, being able to come-and-go as she pleased, but she hated not having anyone waiting for her, like whether or not she ever arrived was irrelevant.
Plopping down on the couch, she kicked her feet up on the coffee table and turned on the television. She wore a plain white t-shirt and her cutest underwear, a pair of lace boy shorts that made her sort of hate herself, because she'd worn them specifically for him.
I call him an idiot but look at me. Going bananas over a moron doesn't make you any smarter than him, dummy.
Her phone rang, and Gabriella pressed the button to answer it, putting it straight on speaker from the couch cushion beside her. "Hello?"
"Hey, sweetheart!" Her mother's voice was way too chipper for it being so early. "How are you doing?"
"Fine," Gabriella lied. Man, the more she did that, the easier it had become. "How are you and Daddy?"
"You won't believe how we are…"
Her mother launched into a rant, but Gabriella only caught bits and pieces of the story as she flipped through channels. Five… ten… fifteen minutes later, they were chatting about a cousin's wedding—one of those faces she never recognized was getting married. Awesome.
"Can I just send a gift?" Gabriella asked.
"Come on, you know better."
"How about some cash? Everybody loves cash. They won't even know I'm not there when there's money to be spent."
"Don't try it, Gabriella. We rarely get together anymore. Don't dare skip this thing. You come, you eat cake, you wish them well, and then you go back home. How hard is that?"
Way too hard. "When is it?"
“Christmas Eve. You should be getting your invitation in the mail soon, so make sure you clear your schedule."
"Awesome," she muttered, tossing the remote down just as the apartment door opened. She sat straight up, alarmed, her eyes meeting Dante's as he walked in. "Hey, Mom? I've gotta go."
"What? Why? Is somebody there? Who is it?"
"No one." The lie slid right off of her tongue as Dante carefully shut the door behind him. "I'm exhausted, you know, with work and everything. I can barely keep my eyes open."
"Fine, go get some sleep. Just be thinking about the wedding. Your grandmother's going to be expecting a 'plus one'. Don't break her heart. She's getting old, you know. She might not recover."
Gabriella mumbled a goodbye before slapping at the buttons on her phone, desperate to silence that conversation. Embarrassing.
"Death by heartbreak," Dante mused, strolling over to the couch. "It's a terrible way to go."
"It's more like death due to unreasonable expectations," she said, "with a stubborn granddaughter aiding and abetting."
"Ah, let me see… settle down, marry a decent Italian boy, have some babies to carry on the bloodline. Do your duty as a Brazzi woman. Am I getting close?"
She feigned shock as she clutched her chest. "However did you know?"
"Lucky guess." He sat down beside her, his eyes grazing up her bare legs and trailing along her thighs. "My sister never went for that bullshit, either."
"She picked an Italian boy."
"I said a decent one. You and her both, terrible taste."
She shoved him playfully. "Do not."
"You do. Terrible. And Genna, she…" He trailed off, shaking his head, like he was trying to shake off the memories. "She dated this one guy, Jackson, who let her take the fall for a stolen car. My father paid him to go away, and he did. He left her high and dry, didn't think twice about it. That's how little he valued her. She couldn't compete with a paycheck. And then she traded him in for a Barsanti. Couldn't get any more terrible."
"You're not a terrible guy," Gabriella said, "and I hate to break this to you, but neither is Matty. He was decent. He was never the kind of guy to let a woman take the fall."
"Just the kind to get them killed, right?"
Ouch. Gabriella didn't know what to say. She knew what she wanted to say, but saying that was too dangerous. So she just sat there, mouth shut, torn between wanting to hug Dante and wanting to punch him in the junk.
"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't fair. It just…"
He trailed off, not finishing his thought.
"It hurts?" she guessed.
He nodded.
Reaching over, Gabriella ran her hand along his spine, rubbing his back overtop his shirt. He'd woken up to find his world shattered, and she'd been there when it happened, remembering vividly the moment he cracked. She'd watched him come apart at the seams, but she'd done nothing to stop it from happening, nothing to slow his unraveling.
If anyone was terrible, it was her. She was letting him destroy himself over a lie when she knew the truth.
"Nobody talks about her," he said, his voice quiet. "It's like she didn't matter to anyone, but she did to me. She does to me. She's my fucking sister. You know? But that's not the worst part. The worst part is not knowing. It doesn't feel real because of that. None of it does. It doesn't make sense, and maybe it never will, but she doesn't feel gone. I keep looking for her. I keep waiting for her. Some part of me expects her to show up. Maybe that's stupid, but I can't shake the hope."
"It's not stupid," Gabriella whispered.
"Hell, maybe I'm just stupid," he continued. "Because she'd be here. If she were still out there somewhere, she'd be here. There's no doubt in my mind. Nothing would've stopped her from contacting me. So I know… I know… but I just don't feel it. I can't accept her being gone."
Gabriella briefly closed her eyes, having to turn away from him, steadily rubbing his back and hoping he didn't notice her reaction. "Saying goodbye's hard, especially when there's no one to say goodbye to."
He laughed under his breath, his eyes glossy, swimming with tears. "Where'd you get that nugget of wisdom? A fortune cookie?"
"No, that came from experience. My brother."
"Chazz."
"Yeah, did you know him?"
"Heard about him. They tell his story different over here, though, than what you said about him."
They'd declared it a suicide, considering he'd jumped off a bridge. Case closed, no investigation needed. But sh
e'd known her brother. She'd known him better than anyone. The moment she found out he'd plunged into the water, she knew there was more to the story. Her brother had been invincible. It wasn't until his body surfaced that her hope faded, so she understood Dante.
"It doesn't matter what people say or what they think. Everyone has an opinion, but I refuse to let it affect my reality."
"Must be nice."
"What?"
"Trusting your own instincts. Believing something so deeply that nothing can change your feelings."
"You don't feel that way?"
"Used to," he said. "Now I don't know. My reality makes no sense. Spent my whole life fighting for something, fighting against someone, and I'm not sure why. What did I get? My house isn't a home, my family is fucked up, and there's nowhere I belong. I probably shouldn't even be here."
Gabriella rested her head against his shoulder. "Yeah, you probably shouldn't."
Dante wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to him, her head shifting against his chest. Tingles shot through her, her eyes closing when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"Where did you go?" she asked. "While I was in the shower?"
"I had to pay for the car, remember? Figured I'd wire the money while you were occupied."
"Oh, I thought you decided you didn't want to hang out."
"Not a chance. Being with you is the only part of my reality that makes any sense."
She smiled. "That's funny, because you're the part of mine that makes everything a mess."
"I don't know about that," he said. "Have you looked at this apartment? It's a fucking disaster."
She nudged him in the side, careful not to hit his still tender wound. Grabbing her wrist to stop her, he poked her right back, eliciting a squeal from her as she jolted, sitting straight up.
He pulled her closer. "There's nobody else here, you know… nobody who can see us."
"I know," she whispered.
His gaze trailed along her mouth as his own lips twitched with a small smirk. His eyes flickered to meet hers, the glint in them enough to make Gabriella shiver. She wasn't sure how to describe it, the way he looked at her. It felt a lot like hunger, like he would eat her up if she weren't careful.
Leaning over, he kissed her then, softly at first before turning passionate. He nipped at her lips, letting go of her wrist, one hand grasping the back of her neck while the other rested on her hip. Gabriella wrapped her arms around him, running her fingers through his hair. Something came over her as he pulled her even closer, dragging her onto his lap.
"Fuck," he growled, breaking the kiss to look down. Both hands settled on her knees before running up her thighs, grasping ahold of the white t-shirt when he reached it. Gabriella lifted her arms, her breath hitching when he yanked the shirt over her head. He dropped it on the couch beside them, his gaze going right to her breasts.
He captured a nipple with his mouth, his tongue circling it as his hand drifted between them, sliding along the black lace separating them. She moaned, tossing her head back when he started rubbing. Oh God.
He knew exactly what to do, where to touch, which buttons to push. She was panting and squirming before his fingers even slid beneath the flimsy material. He stroked her clit, sending jolts of electricity through her.
It came on fast, a sudden rush of pleasure sweeping through her. "Oh God, I'm going to—uh!"
She couldn't even say the word.
Dante caressed her, not letting up until her muscles relaxed again. He kissed along her chest, cupping her center, as he whispered, "Another benefit to my friendship."
Gabriella laughed. "That might be my favorite."
"There's more where that one came from, if you're interested."
"Oh, I'm definitely interested," she whispered, pressing small pecks against his lips, kissing the corners of his mouth before working her way along his jawline, grazing against the scruff. Reaching between them, she fumbled with his belt, doing just enough to release him from his pants. Fisting him, she stroked a bit. He was already hard, pulsating in her palm as she ran her thumb along the head.
He groaned, wrapping his hand around hers, stroking himself harder than she'd done. With his other hand, he reached into his pocket, retrieving a condom.
"You carrying your own now?" she asked when he tore the wrapper open with his teeth. "Expecting this to happen?"
"More like hoping for it," he said, moving her hand to roll on the condom. "I don't expect anything, but damn if I don't want it."
She couldn't fault him for that. He wasn't the only one who wanted it. She shouldn't, but she did. She wanted him, all of him, everything to do with him. She wanted him in her and on her and all around her, lighting up the gloom with his smile and breaking the monotony with his chaos, making her feel all those things she shouldn't be feeling.
God, she craved it.
Pushing her underwear aside, she sunk down on him, sighing as he filled her. Dante rested his head against the couch, his hands on the small of her back as she rode him. Slowly, at first, grinding against his lap, savoring the look on his face. Jaw slack, eyes closed, his tongue ran across his bottom lip, wetting it. It was a look of agonizing pleasure, a beautiful kind of torture, the kind he seemed to welcome.
Eventually, she increased her pace, coming down on him harder, faster, her breath hitching when he filled her deeply. His eyes opened, gaze on her as his hands ran up her back. Gripping her shoulder blades, he pulled her down on him harder as he bucked his hips, thrusting up to meet her.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he said, his voice bordering on a growl. "I'll never get over how good you feel. You're perfect."
Gabriella smashed her lips to his, shutting him up with a kiss. Pressure built up inside of her. It didn't take much longer for it to rush out through her limbs, another orgasm rocking her, seizing her muscles, making her come to a brief stop. Dante kicked in, grasping her hips and pulling her off of his lap, knocking her onto the couch on her back. He was on top of her right away, back inside of her, her legs over his shoulders and knees pressed to her chest.
She cried out, unable to stop the sound, as he slammed into her. The orgasm that had almost subsided came back full-force. Gabriella ground her teeth together, trying to be quiet, but each thrust knocked the noise right out of her.
Uh… Uh… Uhh…
"Fuck," Dante groaned. "I'm gonna… fuck."
He didn't say the word, closing his eyes, his face contorting as he groaned, thrusting a few more times. Dropping her legs, he sat back on his knees, pulling out of her as banging echoed through the apartment from the floor beneath them.
Dante laughed, leaning over her, to kiss her. "Guess your neighbors didn't enjoy all of that squawking."
Her cheeks flushed. "I tried to be quiet."
"They'll get used to it," he said. "Because I'm hoping like hell they'll be hearing it more often, you know, if that's something you want."
"It might be," she whispered. "How often is more often?"
"As often as you want it."
"So all day, every day?"
He grinned. "I'll fuck you until my heart gives out, baby."
"Which will probably be like an hour from now," she said, "with the condition you're still in. We probably shouldn't be doing this kind of stuff, not while you're still healing."
Standing up, he laughed. "Ah, don't fret it. Death by pussy… it's the only way I'm ever going to go out."
"Does she know?"
The question was out of Gabriella's mouth before she was even planted in the chair across from Gavin at the small table in the corner of Casato. He scribbled in a notebook again, working out some sort of math problem, and didn't bother to look up at the intrusion. "Who?"
"Dante's sister," she clarified. "Does she know about him?"
Gavin kept his head down, facing the notebook, but his eyes lifted. Unlike the confusion that greeted her last time she showed up there, all she saw then was wariness. "Why are you asking?"
Why was she asking? Because she was detrimentally nosy. Because something had been bothering her. "Dante said something to me."
"Of course he did," Gavin grumbled. “And what, exactly, did our mutual friend say?"
"He said that if his sister were still out there somewhere, she would've come to see him, so I was just wondering…"
"Why she hasn't come to see him?"
"Yeah."
Gavin didn't appear surprised by that question. He went back to his notebook, working in silence. Gabriella watched, trying to make sense of the messy math.
"What are you doing?" she asked. "Are you taking classes or something?"
Gavin closed his notebook the second she asked that and looked up. "Genna hasn't come, because she doesn't know there's a reason to come."
Gabriella gaped at him. "So she doesn't know he's alive?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because like you said, she'd want to come see him, so it's for the best that neither of them find out until it's safe."
"Which will be when? Never?"
"I don't know, but it's not my business, nor is it your business, for that matter."
"But Dante—"
"Don't," Gavin said, cutting her off. "Whatever you're about to say, just don't say it, because I already know. He's grieving. He's crazy. He's lost. Whatever. Having his sister pop up isn't going to make that better. If you want him to be happy, Gabby, help him find a reason to be. Make him happy, if that's what gets your rocks off. Be with the guy if you want to be with him. He got over you being a Brazzi pretty damn quick."
"But we could never, you know… not really."
"Why?" Gavin asked. "Think the family won't approve? Brazzi women have picked Amaros, and Barsantis, and Russos. A Galante isn't much worse. Not any better, but still, not much worse."
"But he's him."
"And I'm me and you're you. What does it matter? We're all just one big fucked up family. So maybe they won't be ecstatic about you getting mixed up in this, but as long as you're happy, well, that's what matters, isn't it? They'll get over it. But this whole wavering, hush-hush keep-it-on-the-low thing can't go on forever. Secrets always come to light, Gabby. Always."