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Silvano’s gaze went to my gathered bags, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Nero is gonna take you back to the hotel. Then, and fucking listen to me this time, you are going to stay there this time.”
“I’m okay with that,” I agreed, nodding.
“Nero is gonna come back here, though. We have… a lot of work to do. But after that, I’ll be back at the hotel.”
“Don’t you need another set of hands?” I asked, thinking of the graves.
“You know someone with a working set?” he asked, looking down at my cast.
“Good point,” I agreed, sighing. I couldn’t wait to get the stupid thing off.
“We got this. Then I’m gonna come back to the hotel, crash for two days straight, and we’ll head home.”
Home.
God, I loved the sound of that.
All three men helped me get the things back to the car, then Nero slid into the driver’s seat, waiting for me.
“Stay at the hotel,” Silvano demanded, snagging my chin and keeping unnerving eye contact. “Please,” he added, giving me a small smile.
“I will. I promise. Unless someone tries to kidnap me or something.”
“Don’t even fucking joke about that,” he grumbled, sealing his lips to mine for a second, then opening the door for me, waiting for me to climb in, then slamming it again.
He stood there in the road as Nero did a K-turn and drove us away, my head angled over the seat, watching him until he was nothing but a part of the night.
“How long do you think it’s going to be?” I asked Neo.
“Think the math is something like each grave takes five hours, give or take. So, I’m thinking you should be seeing Sil sometime after dinner. Maybe seven or eight.”
Just fifteen or so hours.
Then this was all over.
Forever.
And we could get back to our lives.
This time with no threat lingering, and no reason to keep our relationship secret.
I fell asleep with a warm, contented feeling in my chest at that.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Silvano - Half a day
I was exhausted down to my fucking marrow as I slid my keycard into the slot of the door, hearing the tap of Storm’s nails as he rushed to greet me, a giant stuffed duck in his mouth.
“Hey, Storm,” I said, rubbing him behind his ears. “Where’s Mills?” I asked.
Because despite being filthy—save for the quick wash in the frigid water the cabin had to offer—aching, and tired, my first thoughts were of her.
Storm, seeming to understand, turned, and walked to the bedroom, where Millie was curled up under the covers, her red hair fanned across the white pillow.
And, fuck, I wasn’t prepared for the surge of possessiveness and affection that moved through me.
