Free Ruthless: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance by Lauren Landish Page A

lightness and happiness coming with each laugh.
    Dante, however, didn't understand that my laughter was yes, directed a bit at him, but at the same time, it was that all my stresses were seemingly gone for those moments. Still, he stopped, his face turning red with either shame or anger, I wasn’t sure.
    “Damn. Am I really that bad?” he asked.
    I sobered quickly, seeing his face, and I knew that here was someone who, like me, was really trying to prove himself better than what everyone thought he was. "I'm sorry. I have to admit, it was a little funny. You at least have timing though. I could see that you were carrying the beat, even if you were doing it wrong. But mainly, it was good watching you dance. I enjoyed myself."
    “Well tell me like it is, why don’t you . . .” Dante replied. I wasn’t sure if he was playing along or offended. He was a tough guy to get a read on.
    I put my hand on his chest, feeling the thundering of his heart. I felt bad for my laughter, regardless of whether he was offended or not. “Can I ask you for something?"
    "What's that?" he asked, stepping back.
    "Can you come by tomorrow morning, say at nine? We can start lessons then. Just you and me, one on one.”
    Dante thought, then shook his head. "Nine's too late. Tomasso and Luisa have had me coming by at ten the past few days. Can we make it eight, or even seven?"
    I tilted my head, smiling. "You're going to try and peel this night owl out of bed early just to dance, huh? Well, as long as you don't mind if I have some bed head, you've got a deal. We’ll have to work in a massage every now and then to work those muscles loose though. I don't want to try and teach you if you're going to be stiff as an old man all the time."
    Dante smirked and nodded. "Okay. Uhm, how much is this going to cost me, anyway?"
    "I'll give you the Bertoli-slash-guy who stuck up for my honor discount," I said, patting his chest. "How's twenty bucks a month sound? That'll be for two lessons a week, one on Tuesday and one Sunday. If Tomasso and Luisa give you Sundays off, we can even make that one an afternoon lesson so that I can get some sleep and show you that I do know how to brush my teeth too."
    “Sounds like charity, but hey, I’ll take it," he replied, giving me a genuine smile. He was cute when he smiled. He was the sort of guy who should do it more often but didn’t. At least he’ll fit in good with the Bertolis. "But if I just happen to bring you breakfast every once in a while on top of the twenty bucks, you won't be too mad?"
    "Mad?" I replied with a smile. "You bring me breakfast, and I may just kiss you. Now go. I've got to get some dinner and let it digest before my last class shows up. And no, you can't buy me dinner. Yet.”
    "Deal. Thanks, Carmen. I'll see you here tomorrow, seven o'clock."
    Dante headed out the door, limping slightly with his stiff muscles, and I called after him. "Dante!"
    "Yeah?"
    "When you get to your place, take as warm a shower as you can. Pop a couple of Tylenol or something. Tomorrow, I'll show you how to warm up and stretch out so that you won't be so sore!"
    “Sounds great!" he said, going over to his car, a used Mercedes that I could tell had come from a bargain lot. "Good night, Carmen!"
    As he drove away, I couldn't help but smile as he pulled out onto the road, disappearing quickly into the flow of traffic. I didn't know what it was. Maybe it was his earnestness, or maybe it was his smile. In any case, I hadn't lied to him. I did have to get some dinner before my last class arrived. I went into my little living area, and looked into my fridge.
    "Half a Tupperware of Bertoli lasagna," I said, shaking my head. Suddenly, there was another ring of the bell at the door, and I went back out front, seeing a pizza delivery guy standing there. "Can I help you?"
    "Are you Carmen Esperanza?" the guy, who upon closer view was actually from Bertoli pizza, asked.
    "Yes. Why? I didn't order anything."
    The delivery man