Page 130 of The Beast Who Begged Me

“Thank you,” I tell him sincerely. “I won’t forget your service to us.”

I wish I could promise him some fabulous financial bonus for risking his life to save mine. But that damn crypto wallet has stayed obstinately shut, all my guesses for the final word striking out so far.

But that’s a problem for another day, as I watch Vito pull up in the town car, his face lighting up with relief and joy at the sight of me.

Right now, I just want to go home.

CHAPTER 40

CALIGULA

I wake immediately and fully.

Not in pieces this time. Not surfacing through drugs and antiseptic. Not with blood and fear.

But in my bed. My home.

My neck aches. I abandon my first attempt at a stretch as my body complains all over, and settle back against the pillows, content despite the pain.

Pale January light comes through the reinforced glass, turning the walls the color of tarnished silver. And for a moment, I feel Nonna Mellie’s hands smoothing over the quilt.

Dami’s not here, but his side of the bed is still warm, and I know he’ll be close by.

Because he always is.

And best of all, the smells of Rosa’s kitchen are climbing the stairs and sneaking into the room. Coffee. Frying sage. Something with onion in it—probably the sauce for dinner.

I lie there for a minute and listen to my house. It’s as full as my heart is today.

I told Dami I loved him last night, and he hasn’t said it back. I’d like to hear it. Very fucking much, actually. But apparently, rebuilding an entire townhouse is a simpler undertaking for Damiano Orsini than telling me he loves me.

But I know what I mean to him. I can give him time.

And now it’s time to get up. I have work to do, and wars to win still. One particular item of business is upstairs in a guest room, but I’ll get to him afterward. I have more important things to attend to first.

My family.

I head to the kitchen and find it in the best kind of chaos. Sammy’s at the table with his arm in a sling, eating one-handed. Ricky is right next to him, watching him as fiercely as Dami watches me. He’s going to stay here, with Sammy, for a while. That’s what Sammy told Dami and me, and since this is Sammy’s house just as much as it is ours, we didn’t say a thing.

Well. Dami was about to say a thing, until I nudged him. Then he just nodded.

Vito is at the table with the lovebirds, drinking his coffee and reading his newspaper, and his eyes twinkle over it when he sees me.

But the man my eyes can’t stay away from is sitting up at the kitchen counter, eating breakfast. Dami’s hands are bandaged with fresh white gauze from Darla’s visit, and he’s holding his fork clumsily. Everything on his plate has already been cut into bite-sized pieces—Rosa’s work, I bet.

He drops the fork when he sees me, food forgotten. And he smiles.

For so long I was never granted his smile, or if I was, it was a sinister, vengeful, cruel smile.

All of that is still in him. I’m counting on it, because I have a pretty strong suspicion now about who’s been picking off the Clemenzas, and I want to make sure Dami brings that darkness with him to the confrontation.

But in the meantime…

I go to him and let him wrap me up in his arms, plant a kiss on my neck, in full view of the whole room. They all pretend not to notice, but I do see Sammy and Ricky sneak a look at each other, smirking and rolling their eyes.

When we break apart, Rosa points at a chair with a wooden spoon, and I take my seat obediently. I wait for my breakfast and listen to the sounds of home. The clatter and the bickering and Ricky telling Sammy he’s going to choke and Sammy telling Ricky something dirty in an undertone that makes Ricky snort. Vito’s pages turning, the clink of his coffee cup, Rosa refilling it for him before it’s even halfway down.

And Dami, working his fork awkwardly but determinedly, shoveling in food as though he hasn’t had a meal in days. I feel fondness along with everything else.