Deadly Devotion

Chapter Seven: Breaking Points

The week after we got back from the cottage, everything started falling apart.

It started Monday morning. I was at Dante's apartment, making coffee while he showered, when his phone rang on the counter.

I shouldn't have looked. But it was face up, and I saw the name.

Uncle Tony.

The enforcer. The violent one. The man who probably killed Brian.

My hand moved before I could think. I answered.

"Dante?"

"No. This is Mia, his girlfriend. He's in the shower. Can I take a message?"

Silence on the other end. Then a rough laugh.

"The new girl. I've heard about you." His voice was gravelly, dangerous. "Tell Dante the situation in Brooklyn is handled. The problem won't be coming back."

The problem. A person. Someone who was now dead or disappeared.

"I'll tell him," I managed.

"You do that, sweetheart. And tell him we need to talk. Soon. About the other matter."

He hung up.

I stood there holding Dante's phone, my hands shaking. This was evidence. Direct evidence of criminal activity. I should call Chen immediately.

Instead I put the phone down exactly where it had been.

Dante came out of the bathroom, saw my face.

"What's wrong?"

"Your uncle called. He said the situation in Brooklyn is handled. And he needs to talk to you about the other matter."

Dante's expression went carefully blank. "I'll call him back."

"Dante, what situation? What other matter?"

"Business. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Is someone hurt? Dead?"

"Mia, don't." His voice was sharp. "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to."

"I want to know what I'm involved in."

"You're not involved in anything. You're with me. That's separate from the business."

"How can it be separate? Your family, your business, it's all connected. If I'm with you, I'm part of it whether I want to be or not."

He came closer, took my shoulders. "Listen to me. There are things I do, things my family does, that I keep separate from you. That's on purpose. To protect you. I don't want you knowing details because I don't want you implicated in anything."

"What if I don't want to be protected? What if I want to know the truth?"

"The truth is ugly. Complicated. You don't need that in your life."

"But you do?"

His jaw tightened. "I was born into this. I didn't choose it. But I'm trying to make it better. You know that."

I did know that. But I also knew that "making it better" didn't erase what was happening now. People being hurt. Killed. The "problems" being "handled."

"I need some air," I said, pulling away from him.

"Mia..."

"Just give me a minute."

I grabbed my bag and left before he could stop me.

I called Chen from a coffee shop three blocks away.

"Uncle Tony called Dante's phone this morning. Said a situation in Brooklyn is handled. A problem that won't be coming back."

"Did you record it?"

"No. I wasn't thinking."

"Damn it, Mia. That could have been huge." She paused. "What exactly did he say?"

I repeated the conversation word for word.

"This is good. Not as good as a recording, but good. We can use this as part of the pattern. Shows ongoing criminal activity." She hesitated. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine."

"You don't sound fine."

"I said I'm fine."

"We're moving the timeline up. We have enough now. We're planning raids for three weeks from today. Simultaneous hits on the family businesses, the estate, known associates. We'll arrest Salvatore, Dante, Marco, Uncle Tony, all of them at once."

Three weeks. Not even a month.

"Mia, are you there?"

"I'm here."

"Three weeks. Then you're done. You can come in, debrief, move on with your life."

Move on. Like it was that simple. Like I could just walk away from Dante and forget any of this happened.

"I need to go," I said.

"Mia, wait. I'm concerned about your emotional state. Maybe we should pull you out now. Let you decompress before the arrests."

"No. I'm staying until the end."

"Why? We have what we need."

Because I need to tell him the truth. Because he deserves to hear it from me before his world falls apart.

"Because it's my job."

I hung up before she could argue.

I went back to Dante's apartment. He was on the phone, speaking rapid Italian. He looked up when I came in, held up a finger. One minute.

I waited.

He finished the call, set the phone down. Came to where I stood by the windows.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For earlier. For snapping at you."

"I shouldn't have pushed."

"You had every right to push. You're my girlfriend. You deserve honesty." He took my hands. "But there are some things I can't tell you. Not because I don't trust you. Because knowing certain things puts you in danger. Makes you complicit. I won't do that to you."

"What if I'm already complicit just by being with you?"

"You're not. I've made sure of that. Everything about us is separate from the business. You're clean. If anything ever happened to me, you'd be fine."

If anything ever happened to him. Like getting arrested. Going to prison.

"Nothing is going to happen to you," I said.

"I hope not. But in my world, you never know." He pulled me against him. "That's why I'm working so hard to get out. To make things legitimate. I want a life where I don't have to worry about late night phone calls. Where I can just be with you without all this hanging over us."

"How long until you can do that?"

"A year. Maybe two. It's complicated. Untangling decades of business relationships, agreements, territories. But I'm making progress."

He didn't have a year. He had three weeks.

"I'm scared," I said honestly.

"Of what?"

"Losing you. Something going wrong. This all falling apart."

"Hey." He tilted my face up. "Look at me. Nothing is going to fall apart. We're solid. You and me. That's the one thing I'm sure of."

I wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe love could survive what was coming.

"Make love to me," I said. "Right now. I need you."

Something shifted in his expression. Heat and hunger and understanding.

"Yeah," he said. "I need you too."

He backed me against the window, the same one where we'd had s*x that first time. His hands were already pulling at my clothes, urgent and demanding.

"Tell me you want this," he said, his voice rough.

"I want this. I want you."

He kissed me hard, his tongue claiming my mouth while his hands worked open my jeans. I fumbled with his belt, desperate to feel him.

We didn't make it to the bedroom. He lifted me, my back against the glass, and entered me in one hard thrust. I cried out, the sensation overwhelming.

"Look at me," he ordered.

I did. His eyes were dark, intense, burning into mine.

"You're mine," he said. "Say it."

"I'm yours."

"Again."

"I'm yours, Dante. Only yours."

He moved inside me, hard and deep and claiming. Each thrust deliberate, powerful, making me feel owned in a way that should have scared me but instead made me burn hotter.

"Touch yourself," he demanded. "I want to feel you come."

I slid my hand between us, found my c**t, already swollen and sensitive. A few circles and I was close, so close.

"That's it," he growled. "Come for me. Let me feel it."

The orgasm hit me like lightning. I screamed his name, my body clenching around him, wave after wave of pleasure making me shake.

He followed immediately, his grip on my hips bruising as he came with a shout, my name on his lips.

We stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard, still joined.

"Bedroom," he said. "Now. I'm not done with you."

He carried me there, still inside me, laid me on his bed. Pulled out slowly, making me whimper at the loss.

"On your stomach," he said.

I rolled over. He ran his hands down my back, over my ass, spreading my legs.

"So beautiful," he murmured. "Every part of you."

His fingers found me, slick and sensitive. He stroked slowly, deliberately, building the pressure again. Then his mouth was on me, his tongue replacing his fingers, licking and sucking until I was writhing against the sheets.

"Dante, please."

"Please what?"

"More. I need more."

He added his fingers, two of them sliding inside while his tongue worked my c**t. The dual sensation was too much. I came again, harder this time, sobbing his name into the pillow.

Before I could catch my breath, he was inside me again. This angle was deeper, more intense. His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place while he took me.

"You feel so good," he said, his voice strained. "So perfect. Like you were made for me."

I pushed back against him, meeting each thrust. The room filled with the sound of our bodies, skin on skin, our breathing harsh and desperate.

He reached around, found my c**t again. Stroked in time with his thrusts.

"One more," he said. "Give me one more."

"I can't."

"Yes you can. Come for me, Mia. Come on my cock."

The command, the pressure, the overwhelming sensation. It all combined into one final orgasm that tore through me like wildfire. I screamed, my whole body shaking, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

Dante came with me, his rhythm breaking, my name a prayer on his lips as he emptied himself inside me.

He collapsed on top of me, both of us spent and trembling.

After a moment, he rolled us to our sides, pulling out carefully. Gathered me against his chest.

"I love you," he said against my hair. "God, I love you so much."

"I love you too."

We lay there in the afternoon light, our bodies cooling, hearts still racing.

"Stay here," he said. "Move in with me. Officially."

My heart stopped. "Dante..."

"I'm serious. You're here most of the time anyway. Your apartment is just collecting dust. Move in. Let's do this for real."

"That's a big step."

"I know. But I want it. I want to wake up with you every morning. Come home to you every night. Build a life with you." He turned me to face him. "Say yes."

I should have said no. Should have kept distance. Should have protected both of us from what was coming.

But I had three weeks. Three weeks before everything ended.

"Yes," I said. "I'll move in."

His smile was genuine and joyful and it broke my heart.

"Really?"

"Really."

He kissed me, deep and slow and full of promise. A promise I knew I couldn't keep.

"This weekend," he said. "We'll move your things. Make it official."

"Okay."

"I'm going to take such good care of you," he said. "I promise."

I closed my eyes and held onto him, memorizing the feeling of his arms around me.

Because in three weeks, this would all be gone.

And I was the one who was going to destroy it.

That evening, while Dante was on a call in his office, I went into the bathroom and threw up.

Stress. Guilt. The weight of what I was doing finally catching up to me.

I splashed water on my face, looked at myself in the mirror.

I barely recognized the woman looking back. Flushed from s*x. Eyes too bright. Expression haunted.

This was what happened when you fell in love with your target. When you forgot where the line was between the job and reality.

I'd crossed that line so far behind me I couldn't even see it anymore.

My phone buzzed. Chen.

Chen: Three weeks. Start preparing your exit strategy. When we move, you need to disappear immediately. No contact with Dante after the arrests.

Chen: I mean it, Mia. When this goes down, you walk away. No looking back.

I stared at the messages.

Walk away. No looking back.

Like it was that simple. Like my heart wasn't completely tangled up with his.

I thought about the cottage. About him saying he loved me. About the way he looked at me like I was everything.

I thought about Brian. About justice. About doing the right thing.

And I realized with sickening clarity that there was no right thing anymore.

Every choice I made would destroy someone.

If I told Dante the truth, I betrayed the Bureau and let criminals go free.

If I stayed silent, I betrayed the man I loved.

There was no way out of this that didn't end in devastation.

I deleted Chen's messages. Put the phone away.

Went back to the bedroom where Dante was now off his call, waiting for me.

"Come here," he said, holding out his hand.

I went to him. Let him pull me into bed. Let him hold me close.

"What's wrong?" he asked, feeling the tension in my body.

"Nothing. Just tired."

"You've been tired a lot lately. And stressed. And having nightmares." He stroked my hair. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on in that beautiful head of yours."

I'm destroying your life. I'm in love with you and destroying your life and I don't know how to stop.

"Just work stress. It'll pass."

"If you say so." But he didn't sound convinced.

We lay there in the dark, and I listened to his heartbeat. Strong and steady and trusting.

In three weeks, that heart would hate me.

In three weeks, everything would be over.

I just had to figure out how to survive it.

And how to tell him before it was too late.