Remaking a Man by Amy Craig

Author:Amy Craig [Craig, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group
Published: 2022-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Dante watched the streetlights flicker over Gisella’s features. She gazed out of the window like a lost soul, but he’d promised her protection, and he refused to be the looming asshole who snuffed out her light. Picking up her hand, he stroked her palm and traced the subtle lines that might reveal her fate. “Having second thoughts?”

She turned and bit her lip. “No.”

“You’re sure?” He raised her hand to his lips.

“Dante?”

Drawing her thumb into his mouth, he sucked and held her gaze.

“Dante.”

The slow, sensual act eroded her pensive expression, and her forehead relaxed. Satisfied, he released her thumb and trailed his teeth along the lush pad. “What?”

“How do you do that? One minute, I’m pensive”—she frowned—“or infuriated, and the next minute, I only have eyes for you.”

“Sex.” He whispered his answer. “You like sex.”

She swatted his chest. “Can you be serious?”

“Sometimes.” Drawing back, he gave her space. Looking at her shadowed expression, he waited to see joy but doubted it would come until she felt secure with her decision. Once she had accepted her complicity and faced her family’s sins, she’d felt their weight. He understood the burden. Nobody had expected him to make anything of himself, but he had. Now a beautiful woman blinked in the moonlight, and he understood her doubts. The unexpected responsibility of caring for another person’s feelings eroded a decade of decisiveness.

He’d never owned so much as a cat, and now he had a beautiful, temperamental woman on his hands. Letting her sink into sadness would ruin whatever fresh start fate owed them. “Do you want to go for a run?”

“At night?” She turned and chewed her bottom lip.

The city’s lights gilded her hair. He wanted to touch it. Any other night, he would raise his hand and run the silken strands though his fingertips, but responsibility stilled his hand. “I’ll keep you safe.”

She sighed. “I don’t have my shoes, and I’m not in the mood.”

“Okay.” He looked away and drummed his fingers on the door panel. Chocolate chips and whipped cream wouldn’t get him out of his mess. Then again, whipped cream… He shook his head.

The driver pulled the car up to the building housing Alessio’s penthouse. Before Dante moved into the Vitella mansion, the apartment had served as his corporate hotel room. Twenty flights above him, sleek opulence had kept him comfortable, but it had also reminded him how much he had yet to achieve. CIH, in whatever form it came to him, would have to be his next steppingstone to wealth. Fifteen million would have been a hell of a down payment on a place of his own.

“This is a hotel?” Gisella asked.

The doorman approached her side of the vehicle.

Dante reached for the door handle. “My boss keeps a space on the twentieth floor. He lets his associates use it when we’re in town.”

She nodded. “Practical.”

Stepping out of the car, he stood beneath the glaring yellow lights and watched the doorman tail Gisella toward the brass doors. She moved like a queen, but she accepted the marriage out of practicality.

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