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I might be fucked up over Cameron, but I’d get over it. Why did I even care what Cameron thought? Plenty of people were afraid of me and my family, and we needed them to be. Plenty of people scorned us too.
On the rare occasions when Devil and I attended mass, there were little old ladies who literally pulled their skirts away to keep from coming into contact with sinners like us. Forget the fact that the church stayed in good repair because of my family’s donations. I’d done a lot of terrible shit in my life. I’d killed, and I would kill again, but I didn’t hurt the innocent. I had limits, far more limits than most of the other crime families I was acquainted with.
I wanted Cameron to acknowledge that. With everyone else I’d fucked, I was happy to walk away when I was done. I didn’t care what they thought of me once we’d both come, but when I looked down on Cameron as he lay covered in my seed, I wanted to stay, despite the fact that I had rules. I didn’t sleep in the same bed as the men and women I fucked. I didn’t hold them. I didn’t talk to them about their hopes and dreams for the future. Sex was sex. But my bargain with Cameron was for three months. That was a long time to keep fucking the same man and never talk to him.
It wasn’t just that, though. I was fascinated by him just like I’d been years ago, but he’d rejected me all over again, and it still fucking hurt. I was angry and too full of emotions I didn’t want. I hurled my coffee cup across the room. It bounced off the wall and smashed on the floor.
“What the fuck was that?” Cameron yelled.
“Don’t come in here.”
When I bent to pick up the shards, one of them slashed my hand. I watched as blood welled up from the cut and dripped onto the floor.
“Angelo? Are you all right?”
“I told you—”
“Shut up and let me help you.” He grabbed a paper towel, wet it, and pressed it against the wound. “Put some pressure on it.”
“I know how to…”
He was gone, headed for the bathroom.
He came back with alcohol, a cotton pad, and some Band-Aids. When he held my hand, his touch burned hotter than the cut. I pulled away, but he grabbed my hand again. “Quit being a stubborn asshole and just let me see it.”
“Fine.” I uncurled my fingers, and my breath caught as Cameron peeled away the paper towel with tender care. His eyes were filled with concern, and he didn’t even tell me off for breaking his mug.
“It’s deep, Angelo. You might need stitches.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He wet the cotton pad with alcohol.
I braced myself, but as he brought it close to the wound, he hesitated. “This is really going to hurt.”
“Just do it.”
He laid it over the wound, and I hissed. “Jesus, Mary, and all the saints.”
Cameron ignored me as he held the pad against my skin. I was certain my hand had caught fire. I’d been shot and stabbed, but I would swear the cut hurt worse than any of that.
Cameron finally seemed to decide he’d tortured me long enough. He pulled the pad away and used several of the too-small Band-Aids on the cut. As he pressed them down, his fingers skimmed over my wrist, and I shivered.
“I like your ring,” he said.
I turned my hand over so Cameron could see it better. An angel and a devil faced each other with a rose between them. “My nonna gave matching ones to Devil and me when we turned sixteen.”
“How did it get damaged?” he asked, tracing the deep gouge in the angel’s side with his index finger.
I considered making something up, but ultimately went with the truth. “The night I asked you to tutor me and you refused, I punched the wall after you left.”
“The brick wall you held me against?”
I nodded. Our gazes met, and I couldn’t breathe. I tried to read what was in his eyes, but he seemed as overcome with emotion as I was. Finally, he spoke. “I shouldn’t have—”
Devil’s ring tone sang out from my phone. “That’s… um… my cousin. I have to take it.”
Cameron nodded, rose to his feet, and took the supplies back to the bathroom.
I answered the call. “What’s up?”
“Elena had a disturbing visit from a man who claims to be Damian Ricci’s illegitimate son. He threatened her and the children. I’m on my way to pick her up so we can put her back under our protection.” Elena had been Damian’s much younger wife. Devil had realized she was being abused and helped her escape. She’d worked with us to put an end to her husband’s war against us, and now we would do anything necessary to protect her and her children.
