I remember how foolish I felt thinking that before, but my woman agrees with me, and somehow that makes me feel far less insane.
“No,” she says after a pause. “I love it. I’m just curious.”
“You told me you’re an orphan,” I say quietly. “That you wanted to start your dog sanctuary because you never had a home of your own.”
She nods. “Yeah…”
“I’m an orphan too. Kesha and me. Our parents were killed by the Cartel when I was fourteen and he was just a little kid, not even old enough to remember them.”
She gasps and reaches across the table, laying her hand on my forearm and squeezing supportively. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Dom. That’s terrible.”
I nod, shocked at the emotion trying to flurry up inside of me. I thought I’d become an expert at pushing it down, at ignoring it, and yet now it surges around me oppressively, trying to make me think things, feel things I buried long ago.
It’s my woman, her touch soft on my arm, burning into my skin.
“My father was part of the Bratva, but he was a foot soldier, nothing more. They went to war with the Cartel and came out the worst for it, and he was a casualty. I was there when it happened, hiding in the closet with my arms around Kesha. Shit… I’ve blamed myself for not protecting them so many times—”
She squeezes my arm harder, staring at me with fire in her eyes. “You were a child too, Dom. Fourteen isn’t old enough to face down some Cartel madmen. And anyway, what would have happened to your little brother if you’d left him?”
Her words surge through me with the warmth of truth, pounding deep inside of me, making me want to roar out in release.
“You’re right,” I growl. “Thank you, Daniella. You have no idea how much that means to me.”
“What happened after?” she murmurs.
“I joined the Bratva and I got revenge on the Cartel. I helped win the war. And then I worked my way to the top. I was living on my own, using fake papers to get an apartment, and I guess you could say I raised Kesha, or maybe he raised himself. Whatever it was, I was there for him. He used to call me Dad when he was very young, but now he’s liable to swing at me if I remind him of it.”
I chuckle at the thought, somehow able to laugh even though we’re discussing all this grim shit. It’s so much easier when I’ve got my woman’s touch burning into me, reassuring me everything’s going to be okay.
That reeks of weakness, but I’d only be like this with Daniella, nobody else.
She’s the only person I can show these parts of myself to.
“It sounds like you did a great job,” she murmurs. “I bet he’s so grateful.”
I nod. “I think so. But anyway, the point is… When I made enough money to buy anything I wanted, I built this house as grandly as I could envision. Kesha and I had spent years living in shithole apartments, sometimes with only one bedroom, and I was tired of it. I earned everything I have, with wits and blood and determination. I won’t be ashamed of indulging a little.”
I add some huskiness to the last part, staring meaningfully at Daniella.
My Dreamer knows exactly what I’m implying, a shiver moving through her as her eyes widen for a beat.
“You don’t have to be ashamed,” she murmurs, her voice sweet and tempting. “I think it’s great. You earned it. Spend it how you want.”
I force my mind away from how I spent millions today, on the protection for the union men.
I refuse to think about that shit when I’m here with my woman.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you, to your parents,” she says a moment later, letting out a sigh. “It must’ve been awful, hiding in there, hearing it… I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bring it all back.”
I reach across the table and brush a rebellious strand of hair from her face. “You never have to apologize to me, Daniella, about anything.”
She reaches up and touches my hand, pressing it firmly, as though she wants my touch to sink into her skin and burn within her.
I withdraw my hand when she lets out a shaky breath, pitched high, causing the base of my manhood to twinge.
“Is something wrong?” she murmurs.
“No,” I snarl passionately. “It’s just difficult to touch you for too long. You’re so captivating.”
“Maybe we should decide what we’re gonna eat, huh?” she says. “It might distract you.”
She giggles and I chuckle, shaking my head. “I doubt it. But yeah, let’s eat.”
Chapter Fourteen
Daniella
“I think I picked the worst food choice possible.”
I giggle as I place my fork down, aware I’ve just slurped up my spaghetti like the grossest woman in the universe. I try to look ladylike as I take a sip of my orange juice, so of course, that’s when my body decides to force the OJ down the wrong passage and I start coughing.