Page 149 of The Beast Who Begged Me

EPILOGUE

DAMIANO

Wedding planning is not exactly my forte. I’ve left all that to Rosa, who loves it, and Ricky Benedetti, of all people, who has pretty strong opinions about flowers and colors and all sorts of shit that I never thought about before I asked Caligula to marry me.

It doesn’t matter to me whether we wear black or white. What flavor the cake is. Where it happens, even, so long as I can make sure it’s secure before Caligula walks down the aisle toward me.

All I care about is making it official. When Caligula said yes, and we announced it to the rest of them, I said I’d get going on the license and book a courthouse ceremony for the day after next.

I got shouted down pretty quick. For some reason, everyone’s got a lot of opinions about this wedding. I would’ve overruled them all, but when I looked at Caligula, his golden eyes shining as people started talking over each other, giving suggestions, I could see he liked the idea, too. Liked the idea of some big ceremony with everyone and their fucking dog attending.

I couldn’t bring myself to shut it down. And we got the license, at least.

But today I have bigger concerns. Today—tonight, really—Caligula is attending his first meeting of the New York Commission as an official member.

And this time, I’m not allowed to be there in the room with him.

The Commission’s terms are simple. I can drive him to the Morelli mansion. I can wait with the other men whose job is to make sure their Bosses get home alive. But when that door closes on the meeting, I’ll be on the wrong side of it.

It’s not that I want to take part in the meeting. Caligula is already working with D’Amato on plans for the Giulianos, and he’s going to remind everyone tonight that I get first shot at Big Gee, for Seb.

It’s that I don’t like anything coming between Caligula and me. Even if it’s just a wooden door.

“No one else is bringing one of their men into the meeting,” he says now, watching me in the mirror. He’s been dressing up in front of me for half an hour, making a show of it while I sit on the end of the bed and scowl at him.

He’s pulling on the vest of a brand-new burgundy three-piece suit. A Benedetti original, of course. Lorenzo’s gift to the new Don, to mark the occasion. The color makes his hair look even warmer and brighter.

“D’Amato’s got a house full of his own men,” I point out.

“Because it’s his house.”

“Exactly.”

Caligula turns from the mirror, leaving his tie slightly crooked. It bothers me enough that I reach for it, drawing him closer by it.

“In that room, I’m Don Clemenza,” he says. “They need to hear my decisions and know they’re mine. If I insist on having you stand behind my chair, what does that tell them?”

“That you’ve got fucking excellent taste in men.”

“Dami.”

I straighten his tie. He lets me finish before he puts his hand over mine.

I know what it’d tell them if I was in there. That he needs someone watching over him. Someone ready to step in if the grown-ups get too rough. He’s fought too hard for his place to walk into that room looking like he’s afraid to take it.

“I agreed to back you,” I sigh. “Didn’t agree to fucking enjoy it.”

His mouth curls. “That would have been an unreasonable demand.”

Caligula studies me for a moment before turning back toward the mirror. He pulls on his jacket, checking the fit, and I watch him become the man who’ll walk into that room. Shoulders back. Chin up. The arrogant Clemenza air that used to drive me crazy and still…

Well, drives me crazy.

Then his golden gaze finds mine in the glass again. “Pity I can’t take something of you in with me.”

“Like what?”

“If only we still had that plug from the Obelisk.” He turns, leaning back against the dresser. “You could fill me up,” he says, his voice a lazy purr. “Put in a stopper afterward. Make me wear it as a reminder of who I belong to.”