Born in Blood Collection Volume 1 - Cora Reilly Page 0,146

would have known I lied and that wouldn’t really have helped my situation. “Does it matter why I decided to tell you the truth?”

“It matters greatly, Valentina. Because I don’t know if you’ll be as forthcoming with future truths when you don’t feel cornered. If I counted every coerced truth as redeeming, I would have to spare every traitor who gives away his knowledge under duress.”

Under duress—what a mild word for what the Outfit did to traitors. “I know what you do to traitors, and that’s exactly why I won’t give you the name of Antonio’s lover.”

“You realize that by aiding Antonio in his deceit you became his accomplice and thus a traitor to the Outfit, and that you keep betraying the Outfit and me by withholding information.”

I pushed off the desk, unable to sit still any longer. “I know. But no matter what you think of me, I am loyal to those I care about. I was loyal to Antonio. If he were still alive, I would have taken his secret to the grave with me to protect him.”

Dante shook his head. “That’s something you can’t say for sure. You’ve never suffered through excruciating pain. Torture is a powerful motivator.”

“I guess we’ll never know, unless you intend to test the theory on me and try to coerce the name of Antonio’s lover out of me,” I said insolently.

Dante fixed me with a hard look. “Because you are my wife and because you are a woman, you are safe. You know that very well.”

Because I was his wife, not because he liked me or even cared for me. “I know,” I said, then because I couldn’t bear the tension between us I added, “If you had a secret you needed to hide, I would keep it for you. I would try to brave torture, pain and death to hide it for you.”

Dante didn’t say anything, didn’t even bridge the distance between us, only gazed at me with his unreadable eyes. I decided to take my exit before I said something sentimental, or before Dante could send me out. Dante didn’t stop me, but I could feel his eyes on my back.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

After a dinner of almost silence, except for the few snippets of conversation about my visit to the casino tomorrow, Dante had returned into his office and I had gone to the library as was becoming habit. Instead of choosing the Russian textbook, I decided to read one of the books on gambling and casinos that crowded the shelves but was distracted by the sound of male voices through the walls. They didn’t sound like Enzo and Taft, so I assumed Dante was having a meeting with other members of the Outfit.

When I went to bed hours later, the halls were dark and Dante was still in his office. I guessed that meant another late night. Would Dante really make me ask for a second round of sex?

* * *

Much later, I was woken by a hand on my hip. My eyes shot open but I stared into near blackness. The curtains were drawn and allowed only a sliver of moonlight to penetrate the room. My gaze found the pale glow of the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was almost midnight. I had been asleep for less than one hour. What was wrong?

I realized Dante was pressed up against my back, his fingers stroking my hip. “Dante?” I whispered, twisting my head to peer over my shoulder, but his face was covered by shadows. He was close though. His breath fanned over my shoulder, raising the little hairs on my arms. “What’s the—”

He silenced me with a fierce kiss that made me gasp. He didn’t hesitate; his tongue claimed my mouth. I tried to roll over so I was facing his way, but Dante’s firm chest against my back and his tight grip on my hip kept me immobilized. His kiss sent waves of arousal down my center, but eventually I pulled back to draw in a deep breath and because my neck hurt from the awkward position. He pressed his erection against my butt. I exhaled audibly. “Tell me you’re not sore,” he rumbled against my shoulder before he bit down lightly.

I trembled. “Not sore,” was all I managed, and it wasn’t even the truth, but I’d be damned if I stopped Dante from having his way with me.

“Good,” Dante growled before licking my throat. “Tell me to stop, or I won’t.”

I only whimpered in response, because