Page 38 of The Beast Who Begged Me

“I expect so,” I say vaguely.

“Don’t forget about Saturday.”

I stare blankly until I remember. The dinner. He wants to formally introduce me to the Commission.

Show off how he can make his new marionette dance.

“How could I possibly forget, Luca?” I reply with a sunny smile.

CHAPTER 14

DAMIANO

I head out to the streets and keep spreading the word: I’ll pay for information about Sebastiano Conti’s whereabouts, including any parts of his body that might bob up in the river somewhere.

It’s a long shot. If there’s one thing the Giulianos do right, it’s making people disappear.

I spend the rest of the morning disagreeing with Ferraro about how best to shore up Astoria, and where to meet for this crowning of their new king, and all that arguing helps.

It helps me not think about what Caligula said, about never being able to pay off this debt to him. It’s true, and I knew it already, but it hurt.

And I don’t have the right to feel hurt.

The only thing I can do now with this wasted life of mine is protect his. So with that in mind, I work out what I want to say to him and rehearse it a few times, try to find the best way to say it so he’ll accept it.

I find him in D’Amato’s library after lunch, and I stand there until he looks up from his book. “What is it now?” he asks wearily, like I’m about to tell him I disobeyed orders again.

I got so used to doing what needed to be done without orders, it’s tough to backtrack now. I was trusted in the Giuliano Family, if only because Big Gee didn’t want to work too hard himself.

“I want to teach you to defend yourself,” I tell him. “In case you’re ever caught on your own.”

His eyes drop back to his book, and a moment later, he turns the page. “When would I ever be on my own, Dami? I’ll always have you with me. You told me you weren’t going to let me out of your sight ever again.”

I expected the sarcasm. So I ignore it. “If they get past me, you need a last line of defense.”

“They won’t get past you.”

“Can you be goddamn sensible about this? They did get past me, pretty fuckin’ easy, and you nearly burned alive. I wasn’t there, and if it hadn’t been for Sammy—” I break off, remembering my place at last.

I don’t get to snarl at him.

I never had that right, actually.

But he just takes it in, watching me with those golden eyes.

“Do you know what Sammy told me in the hospital?” he says at last. “That he helped me because he knew you would want him to. So whether you’re physically present or not, Dami, it seems that you’re still capable of protecting me.”

“It’s not the same,” I say doggedly. “I want you to have some basic self-defense skills. And I want to train you properly. An hour a day while we’re here, down in the gym.” And then the hard part, the part I practiced over and over: “If you’ll allow it, Don Clemenza.”

He looks down at his book. Then closes it, and he says, in that cold Don Clemenza voice, “I’ll allow it. When do we start?”

“Now.”

The Morelli gym is in the basement, which I worry about at first, watching Caligula as we descend the steps. But he doesn’t look concerned. And this basement is nicer than most. There’s a wine cellar and storage areas, neatly organized, and the whole place is brightly lit. The gym is in a separate, soundproofed room with mirrors down one wall, weights and barbells, a heavy bag, a few machines. There’s a bunch of blue mats stacked up in the corner.

And there’s a camera in the far corner, its little red light steady.

I plan to keep things simple. Caligula’s got no weight to put behind a punch and no time to build it. All I want him to focus on are escapes. How to break a wrist grip. Where to put an elbow, a knee, a thumb. How to go from held to gone in under two seconds, because his only physical advantage is speed.