He stares right through me, giving no hint of emotion at all.
Silence fills the space between us, and then there’s a slight boom when the heat kicks on, and I nearly jump out of my seat.
That seems to amuse him.
A crooked smile reaches his face. “What has my son told you?”
“Absolutely nothing!” I stand, finding it impossible to sit and yell at him. “Luca won’t tell me anything. He tried to hide the bruises from me. He pretended to be sick. Do you know that? He missed the last game of the hockey season. But maybe that was your point all along. Rough him up. Hurt him. Then, he can’t play hockey.”
“Watch your tone, and I don’t like what you’re insinuating, little girl.”
I huff and fold my arms across my chest.
“I’m not some little girl. I’m your son’s wife.”
“Precisely. You are only a part of this family because he married you out of protection.”
My gaze tightens.
“I love your son. Whether you see that or not, Luca is the world to me. Which is why I’m in here, demanding to know what the hell you’ve gotten him involved in!”
Dante straightens his back. His hands clasp the wooden desk in front of him. “That is none of your concern, Harper.”
“It is my concern when you send my husband home nearly beaten to death. I thought, as his father, you would have his best interests at heart, but you only care about your own self-preservation.”
My gaze darts across the office, not wanting to meet Dante’s stare any longer. My breath catches when I see the same gray dragon that Zeke has on his bed. Luca gifted it to him a few months ago.
But this one is damaged.
Ripped into with … a knife of some sort.
The stitching and stuffing fluffs out with no attempt to fix. It’s shoved into the corner of the room against the wall, tucked next to the filing cabinet.
How peculiar.
Dante’s gaze sweeps over me, and when he catches me staring at the corner, he turns, glancing over his shoulder at the dragon.
I want to ask, but think better of it.
Was he angry with Zeke and took it out on the stuffed toy?
Why does he have the same toy that Zeke does? Did Luca have one as a child?
Or could it belong to the little boy who had been here last winter?
Dante is infuriating, and I pace the space in front of his desk. My mind is reeling with all the possibilities, and my silence might cause me more trouble. “I’m worried about Luca. I’m sure you can understand why I’m concerned, given what happened the last time he followed your orders.”
“Luca is capable of handling the mission. In fact, he volunteered to be first in line today.”
“What?” My voice catches in my throat. “No. I don’t believe you.”
Luca never wants anything to do with Dante. There’s no way he offered up himself to get involved in a mission run and orchestrated by his father.
“Believe it.” Dante doesn’t so much as blink.
I don’t know if the man has any tells, but I can’t read him. He’d be a great poker player, not a great opponent.
“Tell me what you’re involving him in. Is it drugs? Weapons? Why is he willing to suddenly do your bidding? Did you threaten my son? Me?”