Page 32 of Blood Vows

He looked away. “Upstairs,” he ordered.

She frowned. “What?”

“You need sleep,” he said.

“I’m not tired,” Elena lied.

“That wasn’t a question.”

“I’m not a child that you can just order to go to bed. You’re not my father,” Elena spat.

“Thank fuck.” Her expression went flat, and Dante winced internally. That was the wrong thing to say.

He softened his voice. “Just rest for a few hours, Elena.”

She studied him and then nodded. “Fine.” He walked her upstairs. Luca’s house had several guest rooms, but Dante chose the one at the end of the hallway with only one entrance, one window, and good sightlines. He opened the door, and Elena stepped inside. Dante followed her, and she turned to look at him.

“Why are you coming in?” she asked.

“Because I’m staying,” he said, already knowing that she was going to give him a fight.

Her brows shot up. “You’re what?”

Dante pointed toward the chair near the window. “I’ll sleep there.”

“All night?” she asked.

“Yes,” he breathed, already hating the idea of it. The last time he slept in a chair was ten years ago, and his back still hurt from it.

“That’s ridiculous,” she hissed. “You can’t sleep in a chair.”

“It probably is ridiculous, but that’s where I’ll be sleeping so I can keep an eye on you,” he said.

“You can stand outside,” she offered.

“No, I can’t,” he breathed.

She stared at him. “Do you trust anyone?”

“Nope,” he said.

“Not even Luca?” she asked.

“With my life,” Dante admitted. He did too. Luca was more like his brother than his boss. He had known him his entire life, and he was one of the only people who Dante trusted.

“But you don’t trust him with mine?” she asked. Dante’s jaw tightened. That question went deeper than she probably intended.

“No.” Elena grew quiet, allowing him a chance to clarify. “Not yet.”

She looked at him for a long moment, and he felt something soften inside his chest. “Okay.” That simple acceptance seemed to hit harder than an argument would have. She walked toward the bed, and Dante turned away while she removed her coat. He heard the mattress shift, and then the room grew quiet.

He sat down in the chair—his gun on his thigh, keeping his eyes on the door. Several minutes passed before she spoke. “Dante?”

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“You really think that card matters?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.