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."
"True 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