In Love With The Mafia Kings Son

Chapter 27

The end of Letty's shift at the Trattoria couldn't come soon enough. The memory of Chloe's venom in the staff bathroom—her words about being the "shiny new toy"—was still a cold, cutting assault on Letty's confidence. Rocco, noticing her distracted air, let her leave early.

Instead of waiting at the curb for Dante, Letty needed space. She started walking, letting her feet carry her away from the restaurant's chaos. Her mind was a torrent of confusion. Was Chloe right? Was Dante's protection and curiosity nothing more than a faze rooted in her virginity? She remembered Brenda's warning about his need to conquer.

She felt the tears swelling in her eyes, a combination of hurt and overwhelming doubt.

But then, she remembered the contradictory evidence: his genuine, protective fury when Chloe insulted her, the soft smile he'd given her at the fight, and the fact that he had the chance to take her in his bed but chose to protect her instead. She didn't know what to believe.

Letty wasn't paying attention. She looked up and found herself at the beach. It was dusk, and the sky was bleeding orange and violet over the ocean. She hopped up onto the little cement wall bordering the sand and sat down, watching the sun disappear into the horizon.

Suddenly, the deep roar of an engine behind her shattered the silence. Headlights swept over the area before shutting off.

Letty took a deep breath as a car door slammed. She didn't need to look.

Dante jumped up onto the wall and sat down next to her, looking straight ahead. He was dressed casually now—dark jeans and a loose shirt—his massive presence a comforting heat beside her.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" he asked, his voice low and quiet.

Letty shrugged, still watching the water. "I needed to think."

Dante smirked slightly, the sound holding a hint of impatience. "About what?"

Letty hesitated, looking down at her hands. "You... and me. And what it means."

Dante tilted his head slightly to look at her, his chocolate eyes piercing her confusion. "And what does it mean?"

Letty shook her head, avoiding his gaze. "I don't know."

Dante didn't ask again. He gently placed his hand beneath her chin and turned her face to look at him. Her large, dark eyes were filled with a chaotic mix of hurt, confusion, curiosity, and raw desire.

He gently glided his thumb over her bottom lip and leaned forward.

For the first time in Dante’s life, he felt his heart flutter with a terrifying vulnerability. His lips gently and softly touched Letty's. His mouth was warm, soft, and unbelievably gentle.

Letty’s breath hitched in her throat. The kiss was nothing like the aggressive dominance of her dream or the shocking public touch of Lisa. It was sweet, warm, and perfect. Without thinking, Letty parted her lips slightly, a subtle, involuntary surrender.

Dante accepted the invitation immediately. He deepened the contact, slowly pushing his tongue into her mouth, fully tasting how sweet she was—a flavor of pure honesty and untapped innocence.

Then, just as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm her, a cold thought pierced the haze—Chloe's voice screaming in her mind: He'll get bored of you and move on.

Letty abruptly pulled back, breaking the kiss.

Dante furrowed his brow, his body instantly tense. "What's wrong?"

Letty shook her head, her face flushing red with a fresh wave of shame and doubt. She avoided his eyes, staring at her shoes. "Chloe said you're only interested in me because I'm... a virgin." Her voice cracked. "That you'll get bored of me and move on, back to her. You always do."

Dante took a deep, steadying breath. This was the truth he had to face. He reached out and gently tilted Letty's head back to force her to look at him, staring into her eyes as she fought the tears swelling behind them.

"I've been with a lot of girls, and I never cared to get to know them or their feelings," he confessed, his voice low and honest, stripped of all arrogance. He glided his thumb along her jawline. "But you're different. I don't know why, but for the first time in my life, I actually want to get to know you. I'm curious about you, Letty."

Letty couldn't speak, utterly silenced by the raw vulnerability of his confession. She simply looked into his deep chocolate brown eyes, searching for a truth she desperately needed to believe.

Dante’s words—his unexpected, honest defense against Chloe’s threat—left her stunned. The tears that had threatened to fall were now held back by sheer, overwhelming confusion.

She managed to ask the single, most important word, her voice a small, shaky whisper. "Why?"

Dante’s large hand, still cradling her jaw, did not move. His normal swagger and cocky demeanor cracked completely. His chocolate eyes searched hers, frustration and fascination mingling in his gaze.

He hated not knowing the answer, especially when it concerned his own actions.

He shrugged, the gesture huge and genuine. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself."

Letty felt a small, triumphant smirk curl her lips. The Mafia Prince, the man of absolute control, was utterly bewildered by her. That confusion was the only proof she had that his interest was real, not just a conquest.

Dante looked at her for one final, intense moment, sealing the promise of his words. He gently removed his hand from her face.

He stood up, his towering figure silhouetted against the last light of the sunset. "Come on," he said, his voice dropping to a low, possessive murmur. "Let's get you home, little one."

Letty watched him walk to the car. She climbed off the cement wall, the thrilling weight of his honest uncertainty resting heavily on her shoulders. She still didn't know what they were, but she knew the war for her was personal—and Dante was fighting his own nature to claim her.

Dante had driven her home, the rest of the ride a heavy silence charged with the electricity of their kiss. She slipped out of the Shelby and hurried inside her apartment, collapsing the distance between her two worlds.

Letty immediately went through her evening ritual, but her movements were distracted. She ran the cold water for her shower, but instead of stepping in, she sat on the closed toilet lid, her mind caught in a relentless loop of the day's events.

She replayed the entire, agonizing sequence: her father's weary, dismissive gaze; the crushing pain of admitting her loneliness; and the sudden, protective presence of Dante's hand on her thigh. She remembered the shocking vulnerability in his eyes when he confessed, "I'm still trying to figure that out myself."

Then, the kiss.

She gently touched her bottom lip, still faintly tingling from the contact. The kiss with her friend in Detroit had been a hesitant, fumbling peck—a nervous experiment quickly forgotten. Dante's kiss had been an entirely different universe. It started soft and gentle, but the moment his tongue entered her mouth, it was a smooth, deep assertion of his presence—a sweet, overwhelming claim that instantly made her core throb with fierce want. She hadn't just been kissed; she had been initiated.

Letty stood and finally stepped into the shower, but the cold water she usually used to numb her arousal was useless now. She knew she was in danger—more danger than Chloe could ever present. She was in danger of falling for the man who epitomized everything she should fear.

She dried off, pulled on her soft pajamas, and climbed into her small bed. She covered herself up completely, burrowing under the thin blankets. The apartment was silent, the silence amplified by the knowledge that she was utterly alone and unprotected.

Letty closed her eyes and tried to force her mind blank, but the scent of sweet tobacco and spice clung to her clothes, a phantom heat against her chest. She finally drifted off to sleep, the quiet rhythm of her breathing syncing with the silent, terrifying promise of Dante’s words: You don't have to feel alone anymore.