Sweetest Sorrow (Forbidden #2) - J.M. Darhower Page 0,110

made."

"You're not a mistake, Dante." Sighing, she peeked up at him as he stared at her, his eyes pleading. What did he want? "My mom told me never to fall for a man like my father, because when they don't come home, it's going to hurt. It's going to break your heart, she said. And they're bound to not come home sometimes. They're bound to not show up. Because they might've made a promise to you, but they made another promise, too, they swore an oath, and that other oath will always come first. Always. So other guys might break your heart once or twice, but mobsters? They'll break your heart every single night."

Dante stood in silence, like he had no defense to that.

After a moment, he walked over to sit down beside her. "I just had one of the worst nights of my life, but realizing I've hurt you? Well, that takes the cake."

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

"You shouldn't feel bad."

"But I do."

"Well, phooey."

He laughed, gazing her way, his eyes burrowing through her.

"True or false," he said. "You're in love with me."

Gabriella's insides coiled at that word. Love. "Maybe."

He nodded, like that was answer enough for him.

"I know I shouldn't," she explained. "I don't even really know if I do. But I feel something. When I think about you. When I'm around you. I can't shake you. And I know it's probably too soon to have those feelings, and maybe I shouldn't ever have them at all, but I feel it. Can you understand that?"

"Absolutely," he said. "I felt it the first time I heard your voice."

"You did?"

"And again the first time I saw your face," he said. "I felt it the first time I kissed you. The first time I was inside of you. Jesus, I felt it when you pointed a fucking gun at my face. So yeah, I can understand that. I know what you mean."

"You're in love with me?"

"I am."

Whoa.

Gabriella blinked rapidly, absorbing those words.

"I'm poison, though," Dante said. "I told you that, and I think I might've proved it to you today. I'm going to break your heart. I'll probably break it a lot. I won't want to, but I will, and you deserve better than that. You deserve better than me. But if you want me anyway, all you have to do is say so. We'll slap a title on this thing."

Slap a title on this thing.

While so much in her yearned to take him up on that, to throw caution to the wind, she knew they needed to talk about what titling it would mean. "That's kind of a big decision to make when you're drunk and I've had like three minutes of sleep."

"True," he said. "You should go back to bed."

She stood up. "I'm going to."

"I should leave."

"No, actually, the last thing drunk Dante should do is wander the streets of Manhattan without supervision," she said. "So I'd rather you just come to bed with me."

"Okay."

"No hanky-panky, though," she warned. "If we even tried, I'd just fall asleep on you, and I don't know if you'd recover from that."

"Doubtful," he said. "My ego has taken a real beating lately."

Dante kicked his shoes off and removed his coat before climbing into the bed with her. Gabriella snuggled into his arms. She wanted to tell him to get comfortable, but she suspected those words would fall on deaf ears.

"What made your day so bad?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

"Long story," Dante mumbled. "Maybe I'll tell you later."

Before sleep took Gabriella, Dante's soft snores filled the room. He was out like a light, just like that, while Gabriella's exhausted mind ran circles, repeatedly drifting to a particular thought.

"I love you, Dante," she whispered. "There's no maybe about it."

Chapter Sixteen

"Dinner."

The lone word sprung from Dante's lips the second Gavin Amaro stepped out from his father's café around nightfall. Saturday evening, and Gabriella had just left for another long shift at work. A headache plagued Dante, the makings of a hangover, but despite it, he really wanted a drink.

And he really didn't want to drink alone.

Gavin stalled there. "Dinner."

"But you're buying," Dante said, "because I'm broke as shit. I haven't been working much."

"Understandable."

"And no touchy-feely bullshit, either. If you get handsy or ask how everything makes me feel, I'm out."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah," Dante said. "I don't fuck on the first date."

"Bullshit." Gavin laughed. "The Dante I knew would've stuck it in a girl he met five minutes ago."

"Yeah, well, that Dante didn't have a girlfriend."

Girlfriend. That word was like