Chapter 8 - His Hand on My Pulse
Dante’s office was quiet, the mid-morning sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Michigan Avenue. The room had been restored to immaculate perfection: the brass wastebasket was upright, the ledgers were neatly aligned, and the scent of fresh Sicilian espresso hung in the air.
I walked in, holding the manila folder against my chest like a shield. ""Mr. Costa, we need to talk about these documents.""
Dante didn't walk behind his desk. He walked straight toward me, stopping until he was standing so close I could smell the clean, masculine scent of his aftershave and the lingering trace of espresso.
""You don't like the apartment?"" he asked calmly. ""I can have Vincent secure a penthouse in Gold Coast if you prefer proximity to the lake.""
""The apartment is magnificent,"" I stammered, looking up into those captivating amber-flecked eyes. ""And the debt... paying off my mother’s medical bills... it’s the greatest gift anyone has ever given me. But I didn't do this for a reward. I did it because... because you were in danger.""
""I know why you did it,"" Dante said, his voice dropping into a tender, intimate register.
He reached out, his long fingers gently taking the manila folder from my hands and setting it onto the corner of his desk without looking at it. Then, his hands came up to rest gently around my wrists, his fingers lightly curling over my pulse points.
""You're not trembling today,"" he observed softly.
""I only tremble when I'm about to break something expensive,"" I whispered, my heart fluttering wildly beneath his touch.
""You broke my composure three days ago, Amelia,"" he murmured, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist. ""Do you have any idea how much that costs?""
""I... I can calculate the depreciation?""
Dante let out a low, breathy laugh that made my knees melt. He stepped closer, eliminating the final inch between us, his hands sliding up my forearms, over my shoulders, until his fingers were tangled in the soft hair at the nape of my neck.
""For ten years, I believed that fear was the only thing that kept a man alive in this city,"" Dante whispered, his eyes searching mine with a raw, unshielded honesty that took my breath away. ""I surrounded myself with iron, concrete, and armed men. And then you walked into this room, dropped your life at my feet, and showed me that courage has nothing to do with weapons.""
""Dante,"" I breathed, using his first name for the very first time.
""Look at me, Amelia,"" he commanded gently, tilting my chin up with his thumb. ""The war with Bianke is finished. His operations are dismantled, Vance is in federal custody, and your name is completely clear. You are free to take that check, walk out those doors, and never look back at this world again.""
Tears welled in my eyes, hot and clear. ""Is that what you want?""
""If you walk out that door, I will let you go,"" he said, his voice cracking slightly with the agonizing weight of his own restraint. ""Because you deserve peace. But if you stay... if you choose to stand beside me... I will spend every second of the rest of my life protecting you, cherishing you, and ensuring that no one ever makes you feel small again.""
He leaned down, his forehead resting gently against mine, his breath warm against my trembling lips.
""Choose, sweetheart.""
I didn't need a ledger. I didn't need to calculate the variables. I reached up, my hands sliding around his strong, muscular neck, my fingers burying themselves in his dark hair.
""I am remarkably clumsy, Dante,"" I whispered with a tearful, triumphant smile. ""If I try to walk away, I’ll probably just trip over your rug anyway.""
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""Then don't walk,"" Dante murmured.
He brought his mouth down on mine, capturing my lips in a kiss that was deep, commanding, and filled with a fierce, intoxicating passion that erased every shadow of my past. I melted against his broad chest, kissing him back with all the love and longing I had carried in secret since the moment he picked up my broken granola bar.
