Page 2 of Deadfall

“Drink?” I asked gruffly over my shoulder.

“You’re late for your meeting,” he drawled.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d fucking shoot him.

“You know that this is more important.” I turned and cooly assessed him despite my bastard insides fluttering like a teenager’s. He still had that annoyingly handsome smirk on his lips.

Dante inclined his head gracefully. “What would you like me to do?”

“I have to fly out tomorrow and deal with Vetticus’ latest debacle,” I said, scornfully. “I need you to go to the island.”

Dante nodded, serious once more. “I can get a team together—”

“Alone.”

Dante looked at me sharply, head tilted in question. “Alone,” he echoed.

“Mahoney will know something is up if we send too many people.”

“He is a paranoid bastard,” Dante muttered. “Alright. How long?”

“Exfil the night of Octavius’ birthday party,” I answered.

Dante frowned as he did a quick calculation. “That’s—seven days.”

I scowled. “You can’t hold down the fort for that long?”

Unfazed, Dante walked over and plucked the drink from my hand. The teasing glint was back in his eyes as he took a sip, but there was an underlying sharpness that made my blood run hot.

“That’s an impressive level of confidence you have in me,” he said quietly.

“I have my doubts,” I grumbled. “Don’t make it worse.”

Dante winked. He knew I was full of shit. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

My eyes fell to a drop of whiskey on his lower lip and the air between us became alive with sweet, electric tension. I heard his breath catch as I slowly swept my thumb across his very bite-able lower lip.

“You’ll be careful,” I stated, voice barely above a growl.

The thought of losing him cut through my normally ironclad emotional detachment. My fists curled at my sides as my imagination flashed viciously to him dead on a rocky shore far out of my immediate reach.

“Always, mi amor.”

Dante’s voice was low and rough with emotion but it was his eyes, hardened to steel instead of softening, that brought me back from my dark thoughts. Dante took my hand and firmly smoothed my fingers out before he raised my knuckles to his lips. He planted firm kisses slowly on each knuckle without ever looking away. The gleam in his eyes made me want to shove him down over my desk and—

I yanked my hand away and took a step back. I had work to do. Indulgences would have to wait.

“Come see me before you leave,” I said curtly.

Dante handed my glass back with a ghost of a smile. Our fingers grazed, and it took everything in my power not to yank him in so I could touch more of him. By the time the door shut, my mind was wandering down roads that were meant for quiet evenings under cool sheets—only to be brought back to reality by the ringing of my cell phone.

I’d forgotten about my meeting entirely.

I let it ring—I had more important things to think about. Like, how if I could pull this off, I’d make Theron North indebted to me. I wasn’t under any illusions that North would wipe the slate clean in exchange for his daughter. He thought I’d killed her—hell, I’d thought I killed her.

I just needed to buy myself enough time to deal with my brothers. Then, if North wanted to go to war after that, well, it was his funeral. All I cared about was that, at the end of it all, the family empire would rest in the hands of who it rightfully belonged to—me.

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