Sweetest Sorrow (Forbidden Book 2) (21 page)

* * *

"
Y
ou got a death wish
, don't you?"

The cracking of balls echoed through the room, nearly drowning out the sound of that question. Dante's gaze flickered from the green felt-covered table as he stood up straight, a familiar face greeting him, although he wouldn't exactly call it
friendly
, based on the judgmental eyes and serious scowl.

Rare expression to see on that face.

"Amaro," Dante said by way of greeting, looking back at the table to take another turn. He hit a solid red ball, sinking it in a corner pocket. "You come to throw away your money? Because I'll be more than happy to take it."

Gavin said nothing as Dante took another turn, slamming a blue solid in a side pocket but accidentally sending the cue ball down with it.
Fuck
. He motioned for the other guy to go, some cocky rich kid that went to NYU and had an ass-ton of his parents' money to blow.

"You know they
all
know your game by now," Gavin said. "They know how good you are, but they play you because they don't think they've got a choice. So it's not much of a hustle anymore… it's more like extortion at this point."

Dante shrugged. "It pays the same."

"I guess it does. Too bad you won't stay alive long enough to spend any of it."

The boy sunk one of his striped balls, completely missing the next—intentionally, by the look of it, the cue ball breezing right past the blue number ten. Usually that wouldn't annoy Dante, but something stirred inside of him, as the boy tried to step back, waving for Dante to go.

Dante grabbed him by the back of the neck, catching him off guard, and shoved him against the table, slamming his face against the worn, green felt so he'd look at the ball he missed. "I don't need your
help
, asshole. I can win on my own. So you hit this goddamn ball, and you sink it in that pocket, and
then
I'll take my turn."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" the guy said when Dante let go of him. "My mistake!"

The guy hit the ball, sending it soaring, but it slammed the pocket at the wrong angle and bounced back out. Panicked eyes darted to Dante, but he shrugged it off. It wasn't worth the fight.

"Do you have some kind of brain damage?" Gavin asked. "Did they fuck you up so much that you forgot how things are?"

"There's nothing wrong with me," Dante said, taking his turn.

"I heard about your little field trip to Barsanti territory."

"You go there all the time."

"My last name doesn't typically get me shot
on sight
."

"On the contrary, it's never gotten me shot," Dante said. "Beaten, stabbed, and blown up? Sure. But nobody's shot me."

"First time for everything," Gavin said. "In fact, I'm tempted to shoot you myself just to get it over with. It wouldn't be hard. I doubt you'd even put up a fight."

Dante sunk the rest of his balls, back-to-back, before pointing at a corner pocket. The eight ball flew right into when he hit it, ending the game. He wasn't done there, though, sinking the rest of the balls for the hell of it.

Grabbing the wad of cash from the edge of the table, Dante shoved it in his pocket. "Your concern is showing, Gavin."

"Somebody ought to be concerned."

Dante set his cue stick aside, leaning it against the wall, before grabbing his beer from a small table nearby. It was piss warm from being ignored, but Dante still drank it. "I appreciate it, you know, but it's starting to weird me out. Next thing you know you're going to be writing about me in your diary."

Gavin's expression softened. "Dear Diary, Dante Galante died today because he's a fucking idiot that forgot people wanted him dead."

Despite himself, Dante laughed at that, grasping his side as pain stabbed at him.
Still
. Most of him had healed, but that last stab wound was brutal. "For the record, I didn't
forget
anything."

"So you just elected to ignore reality?"

"More like I figured it was worth the risk." He guzzled the rest of the bitter beer. "Not sure why it matters to you, anyway."

"It matters to me because of my cousin."

"Your cousin, huh?"

"Yes, my
cousin
."

"The one I killed or the one my father blew up?"

Gavin's expression hardened. "I'm talking about the one you're fucking."

It took a solid thirty seconds for that to register with Dante. "The one I'm
fucking
?"

"Gabby."

The sound of her name was a punch to his chest. "Gabriella?"

"That would be the one."

"Don't bullshit me, Gavin. I'm not in the mood."

"No bullshit."

Dante's guard crept up. He hadn't uttered a peep about her to anyone, choosing to keep her existence to himself, his small bright spot in a dark world. "How the hell do you even know about her?"

"I told you—she's my cousin."

"How?"

"She's a Brazzi."

"No, she's a
Russo
."

"Technically," Gavin said. "Her father's a Russo, but her mother's a Brazzi, so she's got Brazzi blood. And maybe that doesn't mean shit to you, since you've got nothing to do with the Brazzi family, but it matters to me. It makes her just as much my cousin as the one you killed
and
the one your father blew up."

Sickness churned in Dante's stomach. In a fucked up, twisted, roundabout way, it meant she was related to the Barsanti family, a fact that made Dante queasy.

He ran his hands down his face.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck
.

"Cousins," Dante muttered. "That means she always knew
exactly
who I was."

Did she ever deny knowing him? If she had, Dante couldn't recall it. From the moment he'd woken up, she acknowledged him by name, not at all intimidated by his reputation.

That's because she grew up around those assholes
.

"This is…" Dante shook his head. "…
fucked up
."

"Look, I'm not in the business of telling anyone what to do. You're grown. I'm just saying, try to not get yourself killed as long as you're involved with Gabby."

"You don't have to worry about that."

"You're going to stop tempting death?"

"No, I'm going to stop seeing your cousin."

Dante walked away, heading to the bar at the front. Umberto sat on a stool in the far corner, angled to talk to a blonde girl seated on his left. Dante shoved in beside him, to the right, shaking his empty beer bottle at the bartender.

It was replaced instantly.

He took a long, deep pull right away, before turning, knowing Gavin had followed him. He wasn't going to let it go.

"That wasn't my intention," Gavin said.

"What
was
your intention?" Dante asked. "Thought you could use her to scare me straight? Thought I'd choose a piece of pussy over family loyalty?"

The moment he said that, Gavin snapped. Gone was the guy who had almost been his
friend
, replaced with an angry soldier from a rival family. In a blink, Gavin swung, punching him right in the mouth. Wrong choice, given he was the sole Amaro in a bar overrun with Galantes.

Dante stumbled, his vision blacking out, coming back hazy as pain vibrated his skull.
Shit, he hits hard
. Blood pooled in Dante's mouth as his teeth bit down on his lip. Before he could react, others around them jumped in. Umberto leapt right out of his stool, dropping his conversation mid-sentence. Gavin swung a few more times, defensively hitting a couple Galante soldiers before someone managed to subdue him. They grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms down at his sides, as Umberto swung, hitting him hard in the chest, forcing the air from his lungs.

Gavin
gasped
.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dante shoved Umberto away, nearly knocking him to the floor. "Fuck, guys, it's not that serious! I don't need your goddamn help.
Let him go
."

They released Gavin, backing away as he inhaled sharply. They'd knocked the wind out of him.

"Come on," Dante said, grabbing his arm. "Let's take a walk."

Gavin yanked away from him, shoving around Dante to head for the exit. The second he was outside, he hunched over, hands gripping his thighs as he caught his breath. Dante stood in silence, waiting for Gavin to pull himself together, knowing he'd have something to say once he did.

As usual, he didn't disappoint.

"You," he said, standing up straight, pointing at Dante, "are an
asshole
."

"Not the first one to tell me that."

"Seriously, what's going on with you? This isn't
you
. You were always a bit cocky, a whole lot hardheaded, but you weren't this reckless. You didn't pick fights for no reason."

"You hit me," Dante pointed out. "I didn't fight at all."

"But you knew exactly what you were doing."

"You fell for it."

"You called my cousin a
piece of pussy
."

"Yeah, I shouldn't have said that." Dante wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood from his busted lip. "I didn't mean it. I'm not even fucking her."

"Yeah, right…"

"I'm serious. She treated me in the hospital. I've seen her a couple times since then, but none of it involved fucking. So I'm not sure where you got that impression, but it hasn't happened."

"Yet?" Gavin guessed. "I sense a '
yet
' there."

Dante spit blood onto the sidewalk.
Disgusting
. "I'm not going to lie, I thought about it. She's, uh…"

"She's
what
?"

"She's beautiful."

"Yeah, well, Manhattan is full of beautiful women you can fuck with. Leave Gabby alone."

"Thought you weren't telling me what to do?"

"I changed my mind," Gavin said, waving at him. "You keep
this
up and I might really end up shooting you. Can't do that if you're seeing my cousin. Need to keep my options open."

"Noted."

Gavin took a step back, mumbling something about '
death wishes
' as he turned to leave.

"For the record," Dante called out, "when I called her beautiful, I didn't mean her looks. Because yeah, she's gorgeous, but she's a beautiful person, too. She kept me breathing long after I wanted to stop."

Gavin glanced over his shoulder at him. "Dear Diary, today Dante Galante became what he dreaded most: a sentimental fuck. Just a pity it took him too long."

* * *

"
T
rue or false
."

Gabriella stalled, key in the front door of her apartment building, as the quiet voice registered behind her.
True or false
. She turned, seeing Dante standing along the curb. His hands were shoved in his pants pockets, his shoulders slouched, his head lowered. It was nearing eight o'clock in the morning, the sun still rising along the horizon, bathing the city in orange light that gave his tanned skin a healthy glow. It was an illusion, she knew.
Healthy
was the last word she'd use to describe him.

"Okay," she said, pulling her key back out to take a few steps in his direction. People strolled along, heading to work, their days just starting, while hers had been extraordinarily long.

And she knew, when Dante met her gaze, that her day was about to get even longer.

"You're a Brazzi."

No emotion registered in his voice. No anger. No sadness. No shock.
Nothing
. It reminded her a heck of a lot like Gavin's reaction when she'd approached him at the cafe before work.

His poker face was strong.

His
battered
poker face, as it was. His bottom lip was split and swollen. It hadn't been like that the last time she saw him, an added wound to the bruise along his jawline. It made him appear harsh, almost savage, like there was nothing soft about him.

Brazzi
. She knew it was only a matter of time before he connected those dots, being who he was... only a matter of time before that name came up. It wasn't that she'd tried to keep it from him. As far as she was concerned, there was no reason to hide it. But at the same time, she didn't make a habit of shouting it from the rooftops.

"True or false, Gabriella," he said, voice still flat.

"True," she said, "although I'm pretty sure you didn't need me to answer that."

"I didn't," he admitted. "But I wanted to see if you could look me in the eyes when you said it."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Maybe because I'm me and you're one of them."

"False," she countered. "I'm not one of
anything
."

His eyes narrowed. "You just said—"

"I know what I said." She glanced behind her at the building. "Look, do you want to come upstairs? I'd really like to change my clothes."

Dante didn't answer.

Gabriella looked back at him.

He stared at her.
Hard
.

He wasn't budging.

Okay
.

"True or false," she said, staring right back. "The fact that I'm a Brazzi is a problem for you."

She expected him to say the word.
True
. His lips twitched, like it wanted to come out, but he kept his mouth shut, breaking eye contact to look past her. She stood there for a minute or so as people streamed past them, going about their business, before she realized he was refusing to answer that question. The silent treatment. She'd seen him do
that
before.