“Yes,” I agreed with a firm nod, locking our gazes. “I wear it with pride.”
His smile was blinding, slightly crocked from exhaustion.
“Excellente,” he praised as he bent to collect me suddenly in his arms.
“Dante, you’re injured,” I protested as he lifted me, turned us both, then settled himself in the chair with me in his lap.
He repositioned me until I was laid across his lap with my head tucked in the crook of his neck and shoulder, my shirt rolled down over my sticky breasts. “Please, it’s barely a bug bite.”
“What is with Italian men insisting on the Mr. Macho routine?” I demanded, pushing off his right side to glare at him. “You’re a big, strong man who just came copiously all over my chest. I think your masculinity and virility can rest easy, Dante. It’s your stupidity that’s rearing its ugly head carrying me around as if you don’t have a bullet wound to the chest!”
Dante threw his head back into the cushion as he roared with laughter, the beautiful sound moving through his entire body into mine. I couldn’t help the small smile of awe that seized my mouth as I watched his face crease with mirth, his eyes squeezed shut at the force of it. When he finally tipped his head down to look at me, his eyes still captured the effervescence of his humor.
“Clearly I need to work harder at leaving you comatose after a climax if you still have the ability to berate me for my foolishness after I’ve made you come on my tongue.”
I sniffed primly. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
Again, he laughed, just a chuckle that was somehow even more intimate because he hugged me gently to him as he did so.
“My fighter,” he acknowledged, but it wasn’t a set down the way it could have been.
It was a compliment, one that warmed my chest like brandy.
I let myself snuggle closer, my fingers playing in the chest hair exposed by the open buttons of his shirt. The silence between us was warm and familiar. Before Dante, I’d never known there could be such language between two bodies. The way he held me said everything about his contentment in having me with him on this new adventure, about having me as his woman. I hoped almost desperately that he could feel how I felt about him in the way I rubbed my nose against the hollow of his throat, in the way I traced my fingers lightly over his quilted chest.
“It won’t be easy,” he said finally, but he didn’t sound daunted. “We won’t be able to hideaway in a villa in the countryside without being noticed.”
“Why did you choose to go back to Italy then?” I asked. “I would think it’s the first place the police would look for you and they have an extradition treaty with the States.”
Dante snorted, playing with a lock of my hair absently as he spoke. “The government of Italy may have an agreement with the US, but the country is truly run by le mafie. Do not worry, Elena, my own people will not turn me over to the authorities. That is not why this is dangerous for us both.”
I frowned, trying to understand what risks there could be. “Surely the Camorra of Naples will support you. You’re the Don of the most successful outfit of their operation in America.”
“How much do you know of the Camorra structure?” he asked me. “It is not like the Cosa Nostra or the movies in America. The Camorra is a collection of ‘families’ or groups with their own internal hierarchy. The capo, the consigliere, the underbosses and soldiers. Each capo is the head of a unit.” He paused, his voice dropping so low I felt it through my skin more than I heard it. “There is always a capo dei capi, Elena, but what do you think happens when you put the capos of each family in a room together, hmm? We are like wolves in new territory and we rip each other to shreds for a chance to lay claim to that land, capisci?”
“Too many alphas in one room,” I surmised, shuddering a little at the idea of ten Dantes in one room together. “How did you get anything done as an organization?”
He laughed. “This is a very good question. It led to a lot of problems before technology gave us a better solution. In the old days, we had to meet face to face. Now, we rarely meet in person. It’s riskier. The Feds or the Carabinieri in Italy are always monitoring known or suspected members. We have…digital channels available to us that make everything much more difficult to sniff out.”
“So, why are you going back to Naples?” I reiterated, anxiety prickling under my skin. “Amadeo isn’t in charge anymore. Is the local capo dei capi even friendly with you?”