Indebted to the Mafia King
Face to Face

Eleni

I struggle to tamp down my libido as Dante pulls me out of the sculpture gallery. Cal Duncan? Here? With all the champagne, I forgot the day started with his name. For all my research, I haven't been able to find a picture of the guy, so I have no idea who to look for in the crowd of well-dressed partygoers.

"Mr. Cattaneo." A man with deep red hair and a lilting Irish accent steps into our path. "And Ms. Calimeris. What a pleasant surprise."

Before I can reply, he takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. I blink, fighting for coherency. Instead, I notice the fine sprinkling of freckles on Cal's sharp cheekbones and the amusement in his light brown eyes. The charming man in front of me doesn't match any of the horrifying stories I heard about him.

"Mr. Duncan." Dante's voice sounds strained as he sticks out his hand to shake. “I was so hoping to see you tonight."

"Is that so?" Cal releases my hand and shakes Dante's. "I heard you'd been absent from the circuit for a while. It seems to me you're the one people should be looking for, not the other way around."

Something flashes in Dante's eyes, and he doesn't release Cal's hand. "I'm afraid those rumors have been greatly exaggerated. I'm just as much a presence as always."

Cal nods slowly, and I glance at their entwined hands. Both of their knuckles have turned white with how hard they're gripping each other, all while smiling politely.

"I was making the rounds for a while," I say. "Mr. Cattaneo was a bit...gala'd out."

Cal looks at me, and his polite smile widens into something almost genuine. Or mocking.

"I'd heard this as well," he says. "The fabled Queen of Saints." He glances around. "For all your contributions, of course."

A cluster of people from the gala walk past us, laughing tipsily. Moments ago, I was one of them. Now, my heart pounds in my throat as I struggle to hold onto my tongue and my thoughts long enough to survive this run-in. "Well, it seems fairly obvious to me," Dante says, "that I intend to remain on the circuit. The charities on this side of town no longer need your help to stay afloat, Mr. Duncan."

"Ah." Cal's smile grows tight again. "Well, as long as I get my invitation to your annual barbecue, I'm happy to make sure the money is spread out around the city. Capiche, as you would say?"

Dante stares at him for a long moment, then releases his hand. "Understood. Enjoy your evening, Mr. Duncan."

Cal bows dramatically to me, claps Dante on the shoulder, and pushes between us to stride away. Dante takes my hand and leads me in the opposite direction.

"He's not what I expected," I murmur. "What, exactly, just happened between the two of you?"

"Not all enemies are like the Lombardis," Dante replies. "Cal hasn't technically crossed the line yet. He was feeling me out as much as I was." He runs his tongue over his lower teeth.

I frown. "I know he sent men into Italian territory."

"Who-" Dante shakes his head. "Don't tell me. Keep the men you earned. Yes, he crossed territory lines, but not personally, and I knocked their teeth in. Business is the line that starts a war."

I squeeze his hands gently. "Business or personal."

Dante looks down at me, some of his bravado melting away. "Yes."

I tagged the Irish Kings last week as a potential problem. They have more men than us and a share of the city that rivals what we gained from killing Luca. And a history of making impulsive, dangerous choices. "I've heard scary shit about the Kings," I admit. "Is it true they burned down five Russian warehouses in one night?"

Dante nods and steers me away from the crowds. "And that they locked the doors before lighting the matches. The Russians had a strict policy of helping out the widows of anyone killed on their payroll, and the Kings knew that many deaths would hamstring their cashflow."

Innocent deaths. I ordered more than my fair share of murders over the last two weeks, but never of innocents. I barely resist the urge to glance over my shoulder and make sure Cal is still walking away. He scares me almost as much as the rest of the Kings put together.

I drop my voice to a whisper. "I also heard Cal killed his own father to take over early."

Dante's grip on my hand tightens. "Nobody can confirm that except Cal himself. And it's not exactly the kind of rumor that endears people to him."

"If he's willing to do all that, why-" I blink, and clarity dawns through the lingering haze in my brain. "He wanted to see us. And you made sure it was in public, where he couldn't do anything worse than crush your hand." "Close."

Soft classical music pours down the hall ahead, a promise we're nearly back at the main gala. Back when Cal Duncan wouldn't dare try anything.

"He didn't want to see us," Dante says. "He wanted to see you. I told him I could make that happen as long as he stayed on his side of the fence. I have business with him now that the Lombardis and Coppola territory is mine." My stomach swoops. Maybe Dante wasn't being ridiculous about the danger. "So... He wanted to see me, and in exchange, he'd stay out of Saint Territory?"

He nods, smirking. "I don't think you realize the impression you made on the other outfits, El. You're a legend." He sighs, giving my hand a few more gentle squeezes. "But I don't want him to spoil our night." He tucks my hand through his arm. "Let's eat, dance, and get thoroughly drunk."

"One last question." I peer up at him. "What's the annual barbecue?"

Dante grins. "Exactly what it sounds like."

***

We tumble out of the limo in front of the hotel at nearly one in the morning, and I cling to Dante's arm, giggling. Cal left the gala after our run-in, and Enrico was very good at earning his tips, so the floaty feeling that chased me through the sculpture gallery is back in full force. If the wide, bright smile on Dante's face is anything to go by, he's not far behind.

"Careful!" He catches my waist before I can topple off my heels and pulls me flush against his body.

My heart pounds in my chest, then my stomach, then between my legs. The streetlights turn Dante's eyes into something brilliant and sparkling. I lean up and kiss him.

It's like igniting a firework. Dante's hands roam my body as he devours my mouth, his teeth in my lips and his tongue battling with mine. The city fades away around us. He cups my breasts, follows the line of the ribbon around to the back. "We should go inside," he growls.

I don't care. I kiss him again.

"Pet." His voice is sharp with command, and I obey instantly, stepping back on the sidewalk.

Part of me rebels. What happened to the last two weeks? Haven't I spent all this time finding my place in his world? The rest of me feels so natural falling into step beside him as he walks into the hotel that I can't imagine doing anything else. My body hums with anticipation, and I decide the rules can be different in the bedroom.

Or wherever else Dante wants me.