Skating Towards Danger: A Mafia Hockey Romance – Dante’s Book (Mafia Hockey Series 2)

I look out the window of Dante’s car as he drives towards his father’s country mansion, trying not to resent him for forcing me back.

After Dante finally made himself known at the cemetery two nights ago, he told me it was time to come home and that my uncle needed to explain everything about that day and the arrangement.

I didn’t want to come with him. I mean, let’s forget about the fact he isn’t just a hockey player and a mafia-made man, but the ass married us without my knowledge, so why would I want to be around him? He didn’t exactly give me a choice, and honestly, I haven’t spoken to him since the cemetery and the fact I know it’s pissing him off makes me a little bit happy.

Nearly twenty-seven hours in a car with him and four hours in a motel and nothing, which at the moment is for the best, otherwise, I may castrate him.

I considered his words throughout the journey back, feeling uncertain about whether to believe him or not. My heart wants to, but my head is scrambled. I had information overload along with shock that I was shot at and the fact it wasn’t the first time, and don’t get me started with the fact I’m married, fricking married, which I’m certain the route he went down was not legal.

Five days alone, and I still feel like I can’t breathe.noveldrama

Dante squeezes my thigh where he’s had his hand for a while, but I don’t look at him and keep my eyes out the window.

I get it. He didn’t want to lie to me, and until he got me to sign those papers and marry me without my knowledge, he couldn’t tell me without breaking some rules within their organization.

Okay, sue me. Over the past five days, I have done some googling and learned more than I bargained for.

I still feel like he used me, used my attraction to him to keep an eye on me, and I don’t know how to get over that feeling. Honestly, focusing on him and whether or not he really does love me is a lot easier than focusing on the fact my whole life was a lie.

Damn my heads a mess.

“I don’t know how much longer I can cope with the silent treatment, little fairy,” Dante says quietly, and I swallow hard.

Without looking at him, I reply, “I don’t know what to say.”

And I don’t, my head is too much of a mess.

“Ask me something, anything, and I’ll tell you the truth,” he promises, and I stay quiet for a moment, thinking. “Anything, Paige, big or small, I won’t lie to you,” he confirms, and I nod.

“Okay,” I say, “Rhett?” remembering what Uncle Rocco said about him taking over from him.

He mumbles, “Fuck,” then admits, “he’s a made man,” and I am not surprised. Dante continues, “So is Matt. Rocco and Dad made him work at the diner to keep an eye on you.”

Of course.

Sighing, I lean back against the headrest and ask questions to see exactly how much he knows about me instead because I just can’t with my life right now.

“Favorite color?” I start, and though I don’t look at him, I can hear the smile in his voice as he answers, “Dark purple,” seeing where I’m coming from.

“Favorite movie?” I continue, and he replies, “Pride and Prejudice. Your favorite food is cheeseburgers and fries, but it used to be spaghetti before your accident. You love to skate to Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift, you hate olives with a passion, and spiders freak you out.” I look at him, and we lock eyes for a moment before he looks back at the road.

He continues, “You don’t like it when people say ‘seriously’ all the time and you suck at anything sports that is not figure skating. You prefer your light purple leotard when you practice but will wear your green one if you’re in a sullen mood. You love white chocolate but can’t stand hazelnut. You hate raisins and apple pies, and I know you are definitely not a morning person, especially if I’ve kept you up all night.”

My heart flutters at his words, but he’s not finished, “You have nightmares, and the only way to help you sleep is if you are lying on top of my body while I run my fingers through your hair. You hate baths unless I’m in them with you, and I know that you hate alcohol and drugs with a passion after your mistakes in high school. How’d I do?”

I blink several times, trying to stop the tears that have formed from falling, and instead of answering his question, I ask, “How many people have you killed?”

He tenses, but he doesn’t shy away and admits, “Forty-eight but not including the men that were chasing us last week.” I nod, and he sighs, “Most of them were not very good people, little fairy.”

I nod again already realizing that, then ask, “Andrew?”

“Fuck, can I have a pass?” he asks as he looks my way quickly then back at the road, and I tut, making him groan before he admits, “I chopped his dick off and made him choke on it,” and I swing my head his way in shock, and he winces. “Little fairy, he was going to rape you, I mean, you did amazing fighting him off, but he wouldn’t have stopped,” he says, and I blink, my mouth hanging open a little.

Why don’t I feel bad? Shouldn’t I be feeling bad right about now?

Dante sighs, “Next question, baby.”

I swallow, “Your first kill.”

He licks his bottom lip as he looks in the rearview mirror, ensuring the guards he had are still behind, and he says, “I was eleven. She was a teacher who tried to kiss me, and when I pulled back, she just smiled and tried again. I knew it wasn’t right and decided to do some digging. She hoped to groom me because she’d figured out who my father was and knew Roman wouldn’t work. I went to the principal after I got evidence against her, and he called the police. They were going to pick her up from her home and arrest her. She had several photos of kids with parents who had money in an undressed state.”

I furrow my brows, and I question, “How come you ended up killing her then if you’d planned to have her arrested, which is quite good at that age, by the way.”

He looks at me briefly and smiles before he replies, “I confided in Roman, and he told my father, and as punishment, Dad decided my first kill would be her for not going to him myself.”

Damn…

I look back out the window but tense when I recognize the street. We’re just outside of New York.

“Next question, little fairy,” he demands gently, distracting me, and I clear my throat.

“If I asked for a divorce, would you grant it to me?” I ask quietly, needing to know if his feelings really are real.

He snorts and confirms, “No fucking chance,” and I nod and a feeling like relief hits me.

“Thought so,” I whisper, leaning my head back against the headrest as I place my hand on his and squeeze it tight, not letting go. I think my head is even worse than it was, but the closer we get to his father’s home, the more I need his strength because mine is disappearing.

A few minutes later, Dante pulls up at his father’s house, where his dad, brother, and my uncle all stand waiting for us. A lump forms in my throat.

Uncle Rocco physically relaxes seeing me, and I look down.

“He was trying to honor your father’s wishes, little fairy, just like I was trying to honor his until you signed that paper,” Dante whispers.

Huh, I was right.

“Guess my googling paid off,” I mutter, and Dante chuckles, obviously hearing it.

“Just give him a hug for now. If you don’t want to have it out with him, then fine. I’ll back you all the way, but just give him a hug. He’s been a wreck and despite all lies, he has always loved you,” he rasps, and I swallow hard.

“Even before my parents died, he was like another parent,” I admit, and Dante hums before he leans over and presses a kiss to my head, then climbs out. He rounds the hood of the car and opens my door, and I sigh and unclick myself before taking his hand, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

Uncle Rocco doesn’t wait for me to get to the stairs, instead, he meets me halfway and takes me into his arms. My body reacts naturally, and I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head against his chest and he places his head on top of my mine.

Since that day, he’s been like a dad to me. I get that he was doing what my dad asked of him, but maybe if he’d told me the truth years ago, I may have been able to come to terms sooner. Instead, I had years of guilt suppressed, years of abusing drugs and alcohol.

Five days away, I realized it really wasn’t my fault. I was none the wiser about who my father was or what was asked of him.

It wasn’t my fault that Uncle Rocco lied to me, they all did, and I just don’t know how I can come back from that.