Page 14

Chapter 14

SALVATORE

Sleep is a distant memory at this point, my eyelids weighing more with every steady exhale, but I can’t make myself look away from my angel. Shadows dance across his soft, tan skin and his eyelids flutter with the phantom movements of his dreams. I can’t stop replaying the moment he relaxed in my arms, the brief few minutes he trusted me with his weight and his pleasure. I’m not optimistic enough or naive enough to think that this is our turning point, that he’ll trust me now and stop fighting the things he’s so afraid to feel. He still thinks this is about sex, about power, about control. My guarded Angioletto with his mouth full of sharp teeth and fists aching to bruise flesh in order to protect himself. He’ll see eventually though.

I take a chance, reaching out and gently dragging my fingers along the grooves of his spine, following the curve of his back, mesmerized by his deep, slumbering breaths. He doesn’t stir, doesn’t flinch, just keeps sleeping peacefully, safe in my bed where he belongs.

There’s a darker feeling living right beside the awe and devotion in my chest, growing just as rapidly and as urgently as my love for Dante. The need to protect him. My pulse spikes, chasing my exhaustion back a little further, keeping me from sinking down beside him and surrendering to the heaviness of my limbs just yet.

I slip out of bed carefully, grabbing my phone off of the nightstand and pulling the door shut quietly behind me on my way out. I don’t bother to check the time. It’s the middle of the night, but whether it’s midnight or almost dawn, I don’t have the foggiest idea, and I couldn’t give less of a fuck. There are more important things than a solid night’s sleep and Dante’s safety is at the top of the list. Anyone who wants to complain to me about it is welcome to do so to my face.

I send out a few texts to my guys about meetings tomorrow first. I don’t think any of them are getting friendly with the Fitzpatricks, but I’m happy to rattle them all a little and see if anything falls out if it will keep Lorenzo in that sunshiny mood of his we all love so much. My nephew, Luca, is next. Instead of a text, I hit the call button. It rings a few times before he answers in a sleep-rough voice.

“Yeah?” I can practically hear him shaking himself into consciousness, sheets rustling and his bed creaking on the other end of the phone.

“Hey, I need you to come by my place first thing, okay?”

“Sure, yeah, of course. Is everything okay? Do you need me now?”

A surge of affection goes through me again for the kid and I chuckle.

“No, morning is fine. I have a job for you for the next few weeks or so.” I drag my free hand through my hair and lean against the kitchen counter, my heart rate kicking up again. For some reason telling Luca makes it feel more official, even though I know he knows better than to go running his mouth to my sister or anyone else about things. Still, he’s family and telling him is a big deal. “I need someone guarding my husband while I’m working.”

“Your…” He sounds dazed and then he laughs. “ Auguri , Uncle Sal. I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone. That’s fantastic, I can’t wait to meet him.”

I glance back at my closed bedroom door and grin. “You say that now, just wait until you piss him off and he breaks one of your bones.”

“Uh… what?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.” I grin to myself. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

We end the call, and I have just one more to make before I can rest easy for the night. I do actually hesitate for half a second over whether it’s worth it to risk waking him, but I know I won’t sleep until I at least have the ball rolling on this, so I take my chances and hit the call button.

“If this is a call for help because your new husband has your balls in a vice or a gun to your head, I’m across town and can’t help you.” I guess I shouldn’t have worried at all. Sparrow is clearly wide awake, the sound of traffic in the background and a little puff to his breathing like he’s been exerting himself.

“Busy hunting down Reapers?” I take a guess, not that it’s much of a gamble considering stalking and picking off members of the lowlife motorcycle gang is all the little vigilante has done since he found his way to Wildcliff a year and a half ago.

“Not tonight.” I can hear a smile in his voice. “And if Xav manages to lose me just because you called and distracted me, I’m going to be extremely annoyed and sexually frustrated. So make it quick. What’s up?”

Who answers their phone during a kinky stalking game? I shake my head.

“Don Moreno. I need you to dig up everything you can on him.”

“Is this for Dante?” I hear the metallic rattle of a fire escape and Sparrow breathes a little harder.

“It’s about Dante, but it’s for me.” I growl just a little, tightening my grip on the phone.

“Consider it done. Gotta go.” The call ends abruptly, and I let out a small sigh, letting my shoulders relax and some of the tension ease out of me. That’s all I can do for tonight to keep Dante safe. And I can’t imagine anywhere he’ll be more secure than fast asleep in my arms.

I slip back into the bedroom and crawl into bed. Dante makes an annoyed grunting sound in his sleep as I drag him closer and wrap my arms around him before settling into a peaceful slumber again. With his back steadily rising and falling against my chest and his hair tickling my nose, I close my eyes and drift off too.

DANTE

There’s a delicious ache in my muscles and joints, from sleeping so hard or from the rough way Salvatore sank his fingers into my thighs and pressed me against the wall last night, or maybe a combination of the two. I bury my face in my pillow, fighting against the tide of consciousness dragging me out of peaceful sleep against my will. Memories from last night all fight for the prime spot at the forefront of my mind. The rasp of his stubble against my skin, the sound of our moans, the wild, animal way he pinned me and humped me, and worse, the way I gave in to it.

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, waiting for shame or embarrassment to sour the warm feeling in my stomach, but it doesn’t come. I search for a hint, a single moment when Salvatore made me feel weak or pathetic for giving up the fight and letting him be the one in control for a little while. I’m coming up blank though. I’ve never thought anything gross or demeaning like that about the subs I’ve played with, so I’m not sure why I’m so afraid he will. Maybe the problem is more about the way I see myself.

I groan, rolling over and blindly chucking my pillow at the nearest wall just for the small moment of destructive, chaotic control. This is way too much psychosexual analysis before coffee.

What the fuck time is it anyway? Has Sal left for work already? I yawn and stretch, wondering what his day-to-day life looks like. The entirety of my knowledge about the Mafia is from watching The Sopranos , but there are way too many queer mafiosos around here for me to put all my faith in what I learned from Tony Soprano. I know they make money illegally, just like most corporations. Three cheers for capitalism. And they kill people if they have to, but I’m pretty sure it’s mostly just other criminals, so it’s hard for me to get too worked up over that either. I don’t know why I’m bothering to think about all of this now. I guess because we’re technically married, which makes me at least complicit in the crimes he commits.

Eh, so what? Who among us hasn’t committed a few felonies? We’re all just getting through this fucked up thing we call life however we can.

With another yawn, I fling the covers off and roll out of bed. I really need to go to my apartment today and get some of my stuff. I wipe the sleep gunk from the corners of my eyes and open Salvatore’s closet. I was in a hurry last night, so all I did was grab the first shirt I laid my hands on, but now I step inside the luxurious walk-in and take a few minutes to look through his wardrobe. I never bothered to think about the kind of person I would want to settle down with, but if I had, someone who could share my passion for style would’ve been at the top of my list. Not that I’m settling down with Sal, obviously, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the thought of my temporary husband with one of these corsets under his designer suits.

I thumb through them until I land on a black and gold vest with corset boning and a lace-up back. I slide it on and tighten it until it fits properly. I borrow a pair of his briefs and a lovely pair of crimson Versace pants too. They fit too loose, but that’s easily fixed with a belt. I check myself in the floor-length mirror. None of it is my style, but it’ll do for now. I imagine the heated look in Salvatore’s eyes when he sees me in his clothes again and my cock swells just a little.

I can hear the faint sound of someone in the apartment as I step out of the bedroom and make my way down the short hall to the living room.

“I need to go to my place and get—” I stop short, the words dying on my tongue.

It’s not Sal sitting on the leather sofa, and I don’t think he would appreciate the dirty pair of boots kicked up on the coffee table.

“Sure thing, Angel ,” Sparrow purrs Sal’s nickname for me and shoots me a smirk. He sweeps his eyes over me and grins wider, as if he’s not wearing the same ratty jeans and leather jacket he always does. “Looking good.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask, ignoring the teasing. “Oh god, don’t tell me you’re supposed to be my bodyguard.” I groan. “You probably weigh even less than I do.”

He snorts. “Want to compare body counts?”

Okay, he’s got me there. I bristle and cross my arms. Maybe that’s why Sparrow makes me feel so prickly and defensive, because a small part of me, like microscopic, wants to be more like him. Sure, I beat up perverts in the dead of night, but he’s been singlehandedly taking out the Sleepless Reapers one by one.

“Actually,” another voice I don’t recognize says from the kitchen, “I’m your bodyguard.” A second later, a man who looks like a younger version of Salvatore steps into the living room wearing a cheaper version of the kind of Italian suits the rest of the guys all wear and holding two steaming mugs in one hand and a plate of pastries in the other.

I look him up and down. There’s eager puppy energy radiating off of him in waves.

“Oh good. Let me guess, if you manage to keep me alive, you’ll get that promotion to second tier loafer licker you’ve been angling for?”

Sparrow sputters a laugh and my overeager bodyguard frowns.

“Jeez, Uncle Sal warned me you might break my hand, he didn’t tell me I needed to protect my balls too,” he mutters, setting the pastries on the coffee table, just a few inches from where Sparrow still has his dirty boots propped up, along with one of the mugs. “I’m Luca, by the way.”

He starts to offer me his hand and then seems to think better of it and tucks it into his pocket instead. I don’t bother to fight the grin spreading across my face or the warm feeling in my chest.

“Salvatore said I might injure you?” Oh god, I sound like a middle schooler right now, on the verge of asking what else my crush said about me. Not that I have a crush on Sal. Ugh, I need coffee.

I pick up the mug off of the table and one of the flaky, fruit filled pastries and plop down on the couch next to Sparrow.

“That man is obsessed with you,” Sparrow says in a sing-song voice while scrolling through his phone.

I take a sip of my coffee and roll my eyes. “Please, he only thinks he likes me because I’m a challenge and because watching me dance makes his dick hard.”

Luca frowns again, standing next to the couch like he’s taking this whole guardian thing extremely seriously, and sips his own coffee.

“He’s your husband,” he points out, glancing at the ring on my finger.

“Oh, you sweet summer child. Marriage is just a contract, and in this case it’s a very practical way to let certain people know that I’m protected and can’t be fucked with.”

Sparrow grabs one of the pastries off the plate and bites into it, crust flaking onto his jacket as he chews. Once he’s done, he gives me another shit-eating kind of look and cocks his head.

“Why’d you choose Sal? Alessio would have done it. It sounds like you’re just being practical, so you must have had a reason, right?”

I glare at him as I take a bite of my own pastry, surprised to find that it’s pineapple, which is my favorite.

“I did have a reason. I had many reasons, and they were all extremely well thought out. But I don’t see why I would need to justify them to you.” I’m sure I come off as haughty rather than defensive. And I’m pretty sure I did have reasons, I just can’t remember them right this second with both of them staring at me. “Shut up and let me drink my coffee in peace.”

Sparrow chuckles again but at least he stops taunting me. I turn my attention to Luca with another glare.

“And you, sit the hell down, you’re making me nervous with your hovering.”

He immediately sinks down to sit on the arm of the couch. Strangely, it catches my attention that his obedience satisfies me, but it doesn’t thrill me or turn me on. Is this how I’ve always felt or is Salvatore getting in my head about this whole Dom-brat thing? I contemplate that while I drink my coffee in silence, and once I’m finished, Luca gives me the new key Salvatore left for me and sets the alarm as we all head out to my apartment.

It’s only a few blocks, and it’s a beautiful morning, so I’m assuming we’re going to walk, but Luca catches my arm and steers me towards his car.

“Dude, no touching.” I shrug his hand off. “Only one warning, next time I’ll break something.”

He holds his hands up in surrender and opens the car door for me.

“A bunch of mafiosos scared of a couple of twinks. It’s the kind of thing I never thought to aspire to.” Sparrow sighs happily as he slides into the back seat next to me.

“I did,” I murmur, settling into my seat. “I wanted to be the thing that gives monsters nightmares.”

I swallow down the sting of realizing that when my monster peeked his head back out, the first thing I did was run to Salvatore to protect me.

I give Luca directions to my apartment, and he pulls away from the curb. It’s a short drive and as soon as we get inside, I feel like I’m having the worst kind of Déjà vu.

“Mother fucker,” I growl. My door is ajar again. I haven’t been home in days; who knows how long it’s been sitting open.

Luca puts his arm out to block me from getting any closer and pulls out his gun.

“Wait here,” he says, cocking it and slipping inside.

“Think someone robbed you or is this about that Don asshole?” Sparrow asks, leaning his shoulder casually against the wall next to the door and picking at one of his fingernails.

“How…?” I shake my head. Sal must have mentioned Don. Fucking hell. “This is a nice neighborhood, no one robbed me.”

He nods and then looks up when Luca comes back out.

“All clear, but they did a number on it,” he says with a grimace.

“Fucking fantastic,” I grumble, shoving past him to step inside.

He wasn’t lying. My place is trashed. Furniture is flipped over, my refrigerator door is hanging open, causing the vague smell of warm, rotting food to fill the place. More photos of me are scattered all over the floor, along with most of my stuff.

Sparrow picks up one of my finished needlepoints, one that says “all men are cremated equal” and snorts a laugh. I snatch it away from him and step over the remains of my stuff in a stupor. I only just posted on my social media last night about the wedding, so chances are Don’s goonie trashed the place before I put this whole plan into motion. That makes me feel mildly less queasy, at least.

“Listen, I don’t think we need to tell Salvatore or anyone else about this right now. It probably happened before the wedding anyway, so there’s nothing for him to get worked up about.”

Luca makes a nervous sound and tugs on the collar of his shirt, still holding his gun, but loosely by his side now, with the safety on.

“Yeah, sorry, but I’m not going to risk Salvatore killing me over something like this if he finds out I didn’t tell him.”

I huff with frustration. “Fine, at least let me tell him?”

Luca rubs the back of his neck and then nods. “Sure, but I’m telling him tomorrow if you haven’t.”

“Fine,” I grumble again. “It’s fine.” I don’t know if I’m trying to convince them or myself. I let out a long breath and hold my head high. No fucking way am I going to let this be the thing that breaks me. Fine, I ran to Sal for protection, but that doesn’t mean I’m fragile or that Don is going to win. He’s not going to rattle me.

I beat his ass bloody and put him in jail the last time. And I would have been fine leaving it at that. But he wants to go a second round with me, and this time, he’s not going to be so lucky.