She steps and turns, so she’s facing me. She holds my shoulders and stares into my eyes. “I’m so proud of you, for everything you’ve achieved. I’m proud that we can finally smile again. I want this, Aria. I want this family; I want just a percentage of the happiness back that I lost when my angels died. Jack and the boys, they’re giving me that. Hearing all your laughter . . . it’s bringing sunshine back into my life.”
Guilt pinches my chest, because I know what I did with Blade last night would crush her. It’s not just about him being my step-brother and worrying about what people would think, it’s also the fact that if things blow up, it’s going to destroy this happy place my mom has finally found herself in. Looking up into her eyes, I know one thing for certain.
I have to stop this.
CHAPTER TEN
THEN – ONE YEAR EARLIER
“Are we going to stay in this room all weekend?” I groan, stretching on the bed.
“No, we are not, Ally.”
I chuckle at his use of my made-up name. “Then what are we going to do, Dante?”
He smirks at me, and I take a moment to study him. His sandy-blond hair is falling over his forehead, framing that gorgeous, chiseled face. His eyes are more blue than gray today—absolutely stunning. I reach up, moving a strand of hair from his eyes. He smiles down at me, and that dimple makes my heart flutter.
“We’re going for a run.”
I blink. “Oh no, we’re not.”
“Yeah, we are,” he says, jumping up and taking my hands, pulling me with him.
“You’re not serious,” I cry as he spins me towards a shopping bag in the corner. “What’s in there? You said you went and got pastries!”
He laughs, wrapping an around my shoulders and pulling me back against his chest. His skin is warm against mine, and his muscles bunch and move against my shoulders as he leans over and whispers in my ear, “I lied.”
I grin. “You’re not a very nice person, and this is the point where I inform you that I don’t run. Ever. Not ever.”
“I can make you run.”
“Nope, not possible.”
He squeezes. “Is that a bet?”
“Yep. I don’t run. Besides, why do we need to run? Why, I say?”
His laugh rumbles through my body. “Because we have eaten so much food I feel fat.”
“But you’re not.”
“But I feel it.”
I spin in his arms so I’m facing him. “But you’re not.”
“I run everyday.”
“And?”
He leans down close. “You’ll be fine, trust me. When we get back, you’ll be rewarded.”
“Nope. You can’t make me.”
“Yeah, I can.”
“Can’t.”
“Can.”
I turn and hurry towards the bathroom but he catches me around the waist, hauling me back. “Consider it a date.”
“I don’t know you. We have no reason to date.”
“Darlin’, I’ve had my dick inside you.”
I snort. “And what a wonderful dick it is, that doesn’t mean we’re dating. I’m still not convinced you’re not a serial killer.”
“Most charming killer out there,” he mumbles against my shoulder.
“I’m not running, buster.”
“You are running, darlin’.”
“This could go all day. You go, I’ll stay. When you get back, we’ll eat more food and make you feel fat again.”
“Nope,” he says, pushing me towards the bag. “Now get dressed or I’ll do it for you.”
“I’ll dress, but I won’t run.”
I open the bag and find a pair of cotton shorts and a tank, plus a pair of sneakers. Not really running clothes, but I can definitely run in them. But I won’t be, so it doesn’t matter. I’m grateful he got me these clothes, though, considering I only had one pair when I decided to spend a damned weekend with him.
It’s been a nice weekend, too. I called Melanie and she squealed with delight, promising to go along with my story that I’m staying with her for the weekend. This has ensured it’s been quiet and peaceful, which has been nice. It’s Sunday now, which means today everything will come to a close. Still, I have no doubt we’ll see each other again, which makes me happy.
I’ve never clicked with someone the way I do with . . . er . . . Dante.
I can’t wait to hear his real name.
“Get dressed,” he says, slapping my ass.
With a huff, I disappear into the bathroom to get dressed. When I’m done, he’s already changed into a pair of running shorts and a tight tee that does really great things for his muscles. Damn him for being beautiful. He takes my hand and leads me out of the hotel. I don’t protest about this, purely because it’s a gorgeous day outside and I need fresh air.
When we hit the sidewalk, he pulls me across the road towards the beach. People are everywhere, running down the long path beside the white sand, eating at restaurants along the roadside and playing with their families. I can’t fight the smile that spreads across my face as we step onto the soft sand. The water is really blue today, and waves crash softly against the shore.
“Come on, solider,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me.
“No . . . seriously . . . I don’t run.”
“If you don’t run, I’ll throw myself on the ground and pretend you’re beating me.”