I spend the next few days in Damiano’s bed nursing my countless bruises and shallow cuts. Martina brings me all my meals, Ras checks in at least once a day, and Damiano leaves my side for an hour at most. I sense he hates when he has to do it.
Despite my rough physical condition, I feel good. Light even. Lazaro won’t ever find me again. The hold he had on me ever since he put that ring on my finger is gone.
Technically, I’m a widow, but I’ll never think of myself as such. Lazaro will have no place in my history.
For so long, I thought he damaged me beyond repair, but now I’m not as pessimistic. By saving Martina, I think I may have saved myself. I don’t feel like such an awful person anymore. When I look back on the woman I was, the one who tortured and killed those people, I see a broken soul trying her best to survive. It was the best I could do after being betrayed by those I trusted most. My parents. They put me into a horrific situation with no way out.
I’d never do that to my own kids.
My father was upset when Damiano told him about Lazaro. I was in the room while they talked, although my father didn’t know I was there. He said it had to be done, but that he’d lost one of his best men.
When Damiano told him I was the one who killed Lazaro, he was silent. I don’t think I’ll ever get an apology out of him, but I don’t need one. I’ve forgiven myself. I’ll never forgive him.
On the other side of the enormous bedroom window is the sea. I climb out of bed and step out onto the balcony.
I’ve come here often over the last few days to stare at the glittering water and think about what Damiano said to me when we returned to the house the night Lazaro died.
He wants me to stay here. To marry me and make me his queen. He said he loved me, but I didn’t say it back. The memory sends a rush of warmth through me, but it’s chased away by a breeze. I place my forearms on the railing and exhale a breath.
I woke up before him this morning—a rarity—and I studied his body and the contours of his face. He’s so handsome that sometimes it hurts to look at him. He has a little birthmark just above his right hip, and when I pressed my lips to it this morning, he stirred awake and made a sound I’ll never forget. A happy sigh, mixed with a sleepy moan. I wanted to box that sound up and hide it away. A piece of him only I would get to keep.
I thought he’d pressure me to make a decision, but he hasn’t brought it up again. He comes and keeps me company. We watch movies, share meals, and talk about his day. More often, we have lengthy make-out sessions that leave me feeling hazy with arousal. He insists he won’t do anything else with me until I’m back to one hundred percent. When I ask him questions about Sal or anything clan related, he gives me honest answers without holding anything back.
All of this plants ideas inside my head, which I’m sure is his intention. He’s showing me what it could be like if I say yes. And honestly? He’s starting to win me over.
It’s all crazy. I’ve only just escaped a toxic marriage to a made man, and now I’m seriously considering saying yes to another.
But Damiano isn’t Lazaro, and I’m no longer compelled to act on anyone’s wishes but my own. If I agree to do this, it will be my choice. It will be a marriage of equals. There won’t be any secrets or lies or wool pulled over my eyes.
When the door creaks open, I know it’s him. The sound of his leather shoes on the hard wood floor is familiar by now. He steps onto the balcony and places a warm hand on the small of my back.
I turn to him. There are subtle changes to his face. The hard lines I remember so clearly that first night we met have softened. His eyes are no longer so dark. His lips quirk with a hint of a smile, and a hoard of butterflies comes alive inside my gut.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks in his deep voice.
I smile. “You.”
His brow furrows, and he flicks his gaze away, seeming nervous for what must be the first time. “Should I be worried?”
“Maybe,” I tease.
“I have something to show you that should score a few points in my favor.”
“I’ve already seen your penis.”
He snorts a laugh. “Not that.” His arm snakes around my waist. “C’mon.”
I’m eager to leave the confines of his room after spending three days in it, so I follow him zealously. His hand stays on my hip as we make it down the hall and descend the stairs.
When the living room comes into sight, my mouth falls open. I grip his forearm for support. “Gemma?”
My sister’s sitting on the couch across from a glowering Ras, but when she hears me, she jumps to her feet and whirls around. “Vale!”
I can’t believe my eyes. How is it possible that she’s here? How did my father allow her to come?
My gaze finds Damiano’s. He’s looking very pleased with himself.
“You did this?” I ask him in an awed voice.
He doesn’t answer, just smiles and nudges me forward.
That’s when I know.
I’m going to marry this man.
Around dusk, we all go outside to have dinner on the patio. The table is set for five. I settle in between Damiano and Gemma and take in the magnificent spread prepared by the cook. A board of Iberian ham, tomato spread, and bread, leafy salad with grilled goat cheese, sardines in olive oil, and shrimp ceviche. It all looks so good it makes my mouth water.
While Gemma argues with Ras over what wine we should drink—I don’t recall her ever having strong opinions on the topic—Damiano takes it upon himself to fill my plate with food.
“I hope you’re not planning on feeding me this time.”
He shoots me a wicked look. “I’d need to get the rope first.”
My subsequent laugh trails off when my gaze falls on Martina.
Judging by the dark shadows under her eyes, she’s still not back to herself. Ras offers her some wine, and she nods. When Gemma whispers something to Martina, a small smile appears on the younger woman’s face, but it’s tinged with sadness. She needs to heal, and it will take some time. She carries a weight, just like I did. It’s something she’ll have to confront one day. When she’s ready, we’ll be here for her.
Once Gemma settles in beside me, I reach over and take her hand. It’s still so surreal that she’s here. Damiano flew her here in his private plane after managing to convince my father to allow her to visit for a few days. In exchange, he offered more favorable terms on the luxury counterfeit deal they’re going to sign once Sal is out. They’ve begun negotiations so that when Damiano takes over, it can be ready to go into effect.
Damiano’s smart—he figured out exactly how to manipulate my father. Tie it back to his business interests, and he can suddenly become a far more reasonable man.
Earlier, I tried to talk to Gemma about her engagement to Rafaele Messero, but she brushed me off. It seems it worries me more than it worries her. She wouldn’t let me linger on the topic. Instead, she begged me to tell her about what happened between Lazaro and I. Eventually, I did. I told her everything. We cried together, clinging on to each other until our tears had dried. I’ve never seen her as angry as when I told her our parents knew all about it and refused to do anything. She said they’d never get away with doing something like that again, and I think she’s right. Once Damiano’s influence is cemented over my father, I’ll be able to protect my siblings.
The conversation at the table flows with ease. We talk about lighthearted things up until Ras gets a call just as the plates are being cleared for dessert.
When he returns, his posture is rigid, and his lips are pressed into a thin line.
Damiano stands. “What happened?”
“We’ve received the first shipment from Garzolo. It’s enough for us to cut the others off. They’re waiting for your go-ahead.”
I press my napkin to my lips. We’ve talked about Damiano’s plan often enough for me to know this is the point of no return. As soon as he stops accepting drugs from Sal’s supplier, Sal will know something’s going on.
And then it’ll become a game of who loses the confidence of the key clan members first.
I don’t expect Damiano to turn to me, but he does. “I need to talk to you for a minute.”
I follow him inside until we’re in his office. He shuts the door behind him and comes to stand in front of me. “You know what will happen when I give that order.”
“I do.”
His eyes search my face. “I know it’s only been a few days, but I need to know what you’re thinking before I make this move. If you have anything you want to say, speak now.”
I bring my fingers up to his cheek. “I think it’s time you take back what’s yours.”
He inhales. It’s an answer, but not the one he’s looking for. “And you?”
A clock ticks loudly on the wall, and it only makes me realize how fast my pulse is racing. “And I’ll be by your side for all of it. As your wife.”
Damiano shuts his eyes and angles his face to kiss the tips of my fingers. He pulls me into his chest. “You don’t know what this means to me.”
When his lips find mine and his tongue slips into my mouth, it feels like coming home.
The first real home I’ve ever had.
“You know what I’ll have to do to become the new don,” he says after a while. “It won’t be the first or last time.”
He’ll have to kill Sal with his bare hands. I was raised by a don, and I know what kind of life a position like that entails.
But it’s not violence that scares me. It’s the reasons behind it, and that’s the difference between Damiano and everyone else. I trust his reasons will always be justified.
“It takes more than that to scare me off people I love,” I say, slipping my arms around his neck.
Satisfaction unfurls across his face. “And that’s why you are my perfect match.”
