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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Santo

I needed to leave the bathroom to get some control back over myself. Because every part of me wanted to pull her out of that tub, take her down on the floor, and surge inside her. Or, hell, climb in there with her and let her ride me.

The last thing she needed was me and my selfish needs when she was trying to recover.

While none of her injuries seemed very serious, she had more scrapes, scratches, and bruises than I’d first realized. She had to be hurting all over and all at once.

She needed to take it easy.

Rest was the best way to heal.

Once she was feeling better, we could revisit the idea of having another encounter like in her office. But without having to worry about her being loud.

Until then, I had to deal.

And by ‘deal,’ I meant taking matters into my own hand in the bedroom where she couldn’t see and feel weird about it.

I stopped into the hall bath to clean myself up, then made my way downstairs, ready to clean up the wreck that was left over from the unfinished meal and order some food before Dasha came down.

Then nearly fucking came out of my skin when I walked into my kitchen to find a man sitting at my table.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Domenico.” My heart was punching against my ribcage, the adrenaline from earlier still coursing through me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Was taking a walk. Smelled garlic and basil.” He shrugged as if that explained everything as I glanced over at his plate to find he had pasta piled high.

“Those were ruined noodles.”

“Taste fine.”

“Compared to prison food, maybe,” I agreed, going over to the pot to snatch one of the noodles. It broke in half and splashed back into the water.

“Bread is banging.”

Glancing over, I found half the tray of focaccia gone.

“You making brownies?” he asked, nodding toward the ingredients spread across the island.

“I was going to, yeah.”

“Like brownies.”

“Let me get this straight. You were taking a walk.”

“Yep.”

“Past my house?” To that, I got a shrug. “Why?”

“Getting a feel for everyone’s neighborhood. Been gone a long time.”

“And you smelled food… so you broke in.”

“Not breaking in if the front door was unlocked.”

That was… fair.

I’d been too worried about getting Dasha upstairs and taken care of that I’d forgotten to do the one thing that would have made her safe.

“Should lock your doors.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, taking the pot of noodles over to the sink to strain and toss them.

“Wasting food.”

“It’s slop at this point.”

“You forget you were cooking?” Dom shoved another forkful of mushy noodles into his mouth, making me cringe.

“No. I had an emergency.”

“You alright?” he asked, gaze doing a quick up-down to check for himself.

“It was... a work emergency. Sort of.”

“Shoulda called me.”

“Didn’t have much time,” I said, sticking the empty pots in the dishwasher, then getting my menus out of the drawer.

I had no idea what Dasha liked for Chinese, sushi, Mexican, or Indian. So I was just going to order from Lucky’s place, since I knew she loved everything she’d tried there.

“That’s a lot of food for one,” Dom said when I finished calling the order in. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a twinge of hope in his voice—like he was counting on me inviting him to stay for more food.

“Three,” I clarified.

“Having company?”

It was just then I heard the steps creak as Dasha made her way down.

“Oh, you got company ?” he asked, looking like he was about to pop out of his seat and see himself out.

And, hey, if I went years in a prison cell, I would probably be that respectful of someone else getting pussy too.

“Back here, sweetheart,” I called. “My cousin popped by,” I added, not wanting her to be surprised to find someone else around.

“Hey,” she greeted Dom, lips turning up a bit, but she was quick to duck her head, not wanting a stranger to look at her damaged face.

“Dasha, this is my cousin Domenico. Dom, this is Dasha.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dasha said, letting me hook an arm around her and pull her against my side.

Dom made a grunting noise in response as he dropped back down on his chair to attack his pasta once more.

“I ordered from Lucky’s,” I told her. “Feeling any better after the bath?”

“I’m just tired,” she admitted.

“Here, I’ll tuck you in on the couch while we wait for the food. I want to get something in your stomach before you go to bed,” I told her, leading her back out to the living room. “I have all the streaming channels,” I told her, placing the remote next to her as she climbed up on the couch. “And…” I trailed off as I went into the hall closet, finding the housewarming gift from one of my cousin’s wives—a fancy, soft, cashmere blanket in an off-white color—and bringing it back to the couch. “As promised, a blanket.”

“Thank you,” Dasha said, giving me a soft smile as I tucked her in. “Am I not allowed to sleep?” she asked.

“What?”

“Because I hit my head?”

“Oh, no. No, that’s mostly an old wives’ tale. Unless someone has a really severe concussion. You can rest your eyes while we wait for the food. You’ll be okay,” I assured her, running a finger down her cheek that was still tear-stained from earlier. “I’ll wake you when the food comes.”

“Santo?” she called, making me turn back.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For coming to get me. And bringing me back here. And—“

“You don’t have to thank me for any of that,” I cut her off. “But you can thank me for the brownies later,” I told her, shooting her a wink before walking back to the kitchen to find Dom trying to figure out how to put his bowl and fork into the dishwasher.

Brushing him away, I handled it myself.

“Surprised you didn’t ask her what happened,” I said as I set the dishwasher to run.

“Looks like she’d been through enough. Didn’t need me loading her down with questions.”

I hadn’t seen Dom since we were all in our early twenties. He’d always been a quiet guy, but there was a quiet intensity and wisdom to him now that was at odds with the carefree, sometimes reckless, young man I’d known.

“She that ‘sort of work’ emergency?”

“Yeah. Dasha inherited a business that pays us protection money. But… things have been… going on with us for a bit. Tonight, I got a call that she’d been attacked at work. Hence the ruined meal.”

“That you were already making for her.”

“Yep.”

“You need me to go hang out at her work?”

“Not right now. I might take you up on that, if you don’t have any other jobs going on. I’m gonna need some cameras up in the office and waiting room there.”

“This an ongoing thing?”

“I don’t really know what it is yet. I noticed she was anxious at work last time I was there. And one of the mechanics gave her shit once. I get the feeling they’re giving her a hard time.”

“ That’s not a hard time.” He gestured out toward the living room, where a laugh track floated in our direction.

“No. But I don’t even know if it was one of her employees. The lights were all off and he had a hood up. He didn’t speak either. So… I dunno.”

“So cameras.”

“Cameras,” I agreed.

“She do any damage? Could keep an eye out.”

“She said she kicked him in the balls. But by tomorrow…”

“Is she gonna go back like that?”

“I didn’t ask yet. If it wasn’t someone at work, it would be good to know to be on the lookout. And if it was…”

“Can let ‘em know she’s not gonna back down.”

“Yeah,” I agreed as the doorbell rang.

I grabbed my wallet and headed toward the door. Only to have it push open.

Then there was Lucky himself delivering.

“This was on my way ho—the fuck?” he cut off as Dasha leaned up to look over the back of the couch when she heard more voices.

“Dom’ll explain,” I said, waving him back to the kitchen. “Sorry, sweetheart. I wasn’t expecting any company.”

“It’s okay. It’s kind of sweet that your family pops over.”

“Did you drift off?” I asked, brushing her damp hair behind her ear.

“Maybe for a second.” She started to throw off her covers.

“You can stay. I can bring you your food.”

“No, your couch is new,” she said. “And I think this blanket must have cost more than my car.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I insisted. “What do you want to drink? I’ve got soda, water, wine, some harder stuff…”

“I wouldn’t turn down a glass of wine.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

“Santo, the fuck?” Lucky asked when I walked into the kitchen to find that Dom had already started to portion out the food.

“I’m working on it.”

“And you’re gonna fill Luca in.”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “This all just happened. I’m focusing on trying to get Dasha taken care of. I will make all the appropriate calls once she’s settled.”

To that, Lucky nodded. “You need anything for her? Meds? Want me to call Lettie to look her over?”

Our cousin Lettie was the Family’s medical professional. She had her own ambulance, team, office, and everything.

“I checked her over. It looks worse than it is. Mostly just bruising and scrapes. She hit her head but not hard.”

“Maybe a house call tomorrow? Just to make sure?” Lucky suggested.

“Maybe. I’ll ask Dasha. After she’s gotten some sleep.”

“Alright. I’ll tell Lettie to check in and see. If you need anything on this, let me know.”

“Wait, let me pay you for the food,” I called as he made his way toward the back door.

“Nah. Take care of your girl,” he said, then he was gone.

When I turned back, I found Dom had made plates for all three of us and even popped a cork on a bottle of red.

“I’ll eat in here,” he offered as I collected Dasha’s wine and plate.

But once Dasha realized Dom had relegated himself to the kitchen, she demanded he join us in the living room. Even though it meant he had to bring in a dining chair and stack several boxes on top of each other to use as a table.

We ate together and watched some old sitcom reruns. And by the time I got the dishwasher emptied out and loaded again, Dasha was curled up and out cold on the couch.

So I made my call to Luca, who demanded I bring in Dante on the job so he could keep an eye on Domenico, who was still a bit of a loose cannon.

As Dasha rested, my brother, cousin, and I all worked on a plan for the shop that involved them going in early, cleaning up any blood or mess, then waiting until work hours to install the cameras. Under ‘orders from the boss.’ Dante even drew up some paperwork that I could have Dasha sign, in case there were any questions.

They would also try to get a look at the employees, see if anyone was walking funny or had scratches on their hands, or if they were acting strange or asking too many questions.

With that, the two of them headed out, I locked up, and then I returned to Dasha.

“What...” she started, jolting when I brushed her hair off her face.

“Just me,” I said when she brought up her hands, pressing them to her aching head, then whimpering as her scraped palms hurt. “I was just going to tuck you in. But do you want to go to bed instead?”

“Bed sounds good,” she said, wincing as she spoke. Her throat was likely really starting to ache.

We walked upstairs together. “I should probably offer you a guest room, in case you want to be alone. I, of course, would rather have you in my bed. But if you want—”

“I want that too,” she rushed to cut me off. “And not only because yours is the only finished room,” she added with a light in her pretty eyes.

I put on the TV without asking if she liked to sleep with one on or not. Mainly because I really needed a distraction when she was right there beside me, curling toward me, sharing body heat.

“It’s nice to sleep in a bed without one of the springs jabbing into my side all night.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I’m pretty sure the mattress is older than I am,” Dasha said with a big yawn. “I’m going to sleep like the dead here.”

Then she did exactly that.

As for me, I was up for hours just enjoying her nearness as I tried to work through the situation with her and the garage.

All I could conclude in the end was… she was keeping something from me.

And I was going to have to ask her what it was.