When Heroes Fall (Anti-Heroes in Love Duet #1)

by Giana Darling

To the strong women who have earned their armor by battling their entire lives for respect, admiration, and a love worthy of their greatness.

Nothing can be loved or hated unless it is first understood.” – Leonardo di Vinci

“All monsters were men once,” I finally allowed, swallowing hard because maybe the same could be said of me.

“You watch too many movies, Elena. In real life, the villain always wins because we are willing to do anything to succeed.” He paused as I did in the doorway. “I think you know a little something about that.”

I’d learned the hard way over the years that people had no qualms about ruthlessly attacking any perceived weakness.

He looked criminal, filled with wicked intent and handsome enough to tempt the pope to sin.

Not for the money or even the power, though both were more arousing than most men had ever been to me.

“I expect the public to fall for an anti-hero. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last.”

“You can cage the man, Elena, but not the idea. No collection of walls is strong enough to hold me or mine.”

if life had taught me anything, it was that hope was a slippery thing, and just as soon as you found purchase with your hold, it slipped away again, elusive and cruel.

I’d lost so much of myself before I’d ever truly known who I was.

“You know, it is the contrast between two opposites that heightens them both to keener glory. You shouldn’t be afraid to be coarse, just as I shouldn’t be afraid to be gentle. Too much of one thing is boring, Elena.”

“Who knows, lottatrice, maybe you’ll find more pleasure being in bed with the devil than you would have imagined.”

I didn’t mind working with a bitch. In my humble opinion, they were underrated.

I wish I could have given you a better start, but understand, every woman must be a fighter, Elena, because history has tricked men into thinking women are less.”

“This is what you must understand, Elena. They are wrong. Women bear the trials of their men, the delivery of their babies, the weight of their families. Women are extraordinarily strong. So, you must trick the men into giving you power. Do not tell them you are strong, and do not fight them with words because words can be undone. Fight the injustice with action, lottatrice mia, because action can be understood in any language, by any man.”

I didn’t want to be safe. I wanted to be brave and bold in the only arena I’d ever felt capable in—my job.

“I’m wearing heels bigger than your dick, so if this is a pissing contest, I think it’s safe to say I win,”

I was the child of a sinner, and sin was in my blood.

I was too proud to go unnoticed in my profession, too greedy to accept pennies, too envious to be content with what I had at any given time, and too aroused by power to let it slide through my fingers.

I wanted to be the kind of a woman who was called a hero, but I’d spent most of my life being called a villain. If enough people treat you like a villain, you become one.

“It is those in power who decide the rules, Elena. I don’t feel I have to remind you of this, but I will. In this case, I am the one with the power…”

If I wanted to defeat my demons, I had to become the ultimate monster.

Don’t waste any more time on a man who isn’t spending time thinking about you.”

“I know you’ll find a man who makes you forget every fear you’ve ever had, who soothes all the ragged wounds you’ve had to endure in your life, who makes you feel more alive than you ever have before.”

“I’d sooner trust Dante Salvatore to protect me than you.”

“And if you think to fuck with me again, the Devil of New York City himself will come for you, and I won’t stop him when he does.”

I was deeply emotional, too sensitive for my own good. So, I often lashed out violently at anyone who wounded me, the instinct to inflict hurt on those who injured me almost animalistic.

Hadn’t I learned better yet? Why did I allow myself to hope for kindness when I saw a hand extended my way when I knew I’d more than likely receive a slap to the face instead of a handshake?

I was at the point in my life where I didn’t even dream of happiness. I just yearned for a life without further pain.

I was an island, and I was okay that way.

“No,” I agreed in a low purr. “You aren’t a soldier or a slave. You are a fighter, my fighter until you’ve won this war with me. But I am the general, Elena, and the sooner you get used to taking orders from me, the better.”

“Next time you hit me, lottatrice, I will hit you back. Only it will be on that sweet little arse I’ve glimpsed behind your tight skirts, capisci?”

Soon, she’d be mine.

Elena Lombardi was an acquired taste, something to be appreciated by only the most refined palette, the most exquisite mind. As deep and brilliantly complex as expensive Italian wine, and the more I learned about her, the more I wanted to drink her down like a glutton and force her to be mine.

“Oh, Elena, be careful cursing around me,” he purred darkly, moving just a little closer. “I like the sound of something dirty in that red mouth.”

My father’s sinner's blood ran through my veins, and I couldn’t pretend for one second longer that I was above my avarice and egotism. I wanted success, money, fame. I wanted to be seen and known and heard. I wanted it all.

“Princesses always need saving, and I’ve always wanted to be the type of woman that saved herself. Maybe even the one who saved her handsome prince in the end instead.”

“There are different types of women in the world, gioia. There are soft ones who need saving, but maybe they have good, tender hearts that need protecting. And you know what?” Dante asked, stroking a big hand down her head as he shot me a sidelong glance. “Even the strong ones need saving sometimes.”

I was used to being the bitch, the warrior, something strong and impenetrable, more a worthy adversary than a worthy friend.

If you saw what I saw when I looked at you, you would never doubt yourself again. You wouldn’t be tricked by the easy flattery of some stronzo like di Carlo into thinking he was good enough for you.”

“If being a bitch means being smart enough to know the truth and brave enough to speak it, I’ll count it as a compliment,”

When your own family thought you were a bitch, it was difficult for anyone else’s knife to inflict the same kind of wound.

“Someone gives you hell, Elena, you give it to ’em right back. You teach them that for every move against you, however slight, you’re ready to battle. So many of the wealthiest, most successful men you’ll ever see are bullies at heart, and there’s nothing a bully hates so much as pushback.”

I didn’t have anything more in me to give. I’d felt so much all my life I’d resolved to feel nothing at all. For years, I’d kept my heart black, my lips red, and my personality ice cold.

I stared down at her sleeping face feeling my own heart shift in my chest, the tectonic plates of my life fluctuating to accommodate a new presence there, one I didn’t intend to let go.

I had always found, if you could understand something, it was almost impossible to hate it because then you could empathize with it.

“I’ve never been so proud to make another person laugh,” he told me seriously. I swallowed the mass of emotion that rose in my throat. “Don’t say I should do it more often.” “No, the rarity of it makes it more beautiful. I’m becoming rather possessive of the sound.”

“One day, Elena,” he practically purred, the sound a rough vibration that hummed through me. “I am going to kiss you until you melt, and then I am going to lick up every inch of you.”

“No, lottatrice,” he murmured as he angled his nose over the shell of my right ear. “I’ll hold yours when I finally fuck you. Eat it off your tongue when I kiss you as you beg me for more.”