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The basement remained completely silent.
“Any objections?” the man asked. “Speak now or take it to the grave.”
Carmine looked around. The men appeared nervous, their shifty eyes everywhere except for on Corrado. The room once again remained silent, no one speaking up.
The entire scene was strange to Carmine.
“Moretti it is, then,” the man said. “This meeting never happened.”
Corrado turned back around, motioning for Carmine to go right back up the stairs without having spoken a single word. They headed out to the parking lot, pausing beside the car not more than five minutes after arriving. “Like I said, people like to believe they have a choice, even if they really don’t.”
Corrado got in the driver’s side and Carmine slipped into the passenger seat, eyeing him warily. “You’re the Don now?”
“Yes.”
“What would’ve happened if someone objected? Would they have been allowed to leave?”
“They would’ve certainly left the room,” he replied. “Just in a dozen pieces.”
* * *
Carmine listened for sounds as he opened the front door, noting the house was completely silent, but the glow from the television illuminated the living room. Haven lay on the couch fast asleep, her shoes kicked off and sitting on the floor in front of her.
Carmine walked over and crouched down, stealthily slipping his gun under the couch before pushing some stray hair from her face. She stirred a bit but still slept, and he remained there for a moment, just watching her breathe.
If he hadn’t been sure before, it was at that moment he knew it. It was then, watching her sleep, that he felt it. He didn’t know what would happen in the future, but somehow they would make it if they gave it a try.
He fought back tears again, still unable to get himself under control. Life overwhelmed him, tugging him in opposite directions while he stood stagnant, trying to remain whole. He was surrounded by violence and death, the ugliness eating away at him, but then, on the other side, there was her. She was peace, and hope, and pure fucking beauty. She was the good that he hoped would overpower the bad.
“Haven,” he whispered, running the back of his hand along her cheek. “La mia bella ragazza.”
She stirred again and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly with confusion. It seemed to strike her where she was, a sleepy smile curving her lips. “You’re back.”
“And you waited.”
“Of course I did. I told you I wouldn’t run from you, Carmine.”
“I won’t either,” he said, smiling softly. “I won’t leave you again.”
“You swear?”
“You fucking know I do.”
She laughed, eyeing Carmine curiously as she sat up. She placed her right hand on his cheek, gently stroking his skin and brushing her thumb along his mouth. “Have you been crying?”
“Maybe,” he replied, leaning forward to softly press his lips to hers. She didn’t pull away that time, didn’t turn her head. Instead, she moved her mouth in rhythm with his. It was sweet, and innocent, but it was enough.
He ducked his head and nuzzled into her neck, inhaling deeply as he kissed the exposed skin. Her presence was overwhelming, the touch and scent and taste of her driving him wild.
“Do you still feel that?” he asked, nipping at the skin near her collarbone. “The electricity between us? Please tell me you feel it.”
“I feel it,” she whispered.
“I need you, Haven,” he said, his voice cracking as the words caught in his throat.
“I know.”
A strangled sob escaped his throat, the sound causing her to grip him tighter, and she whispered quietly as he cried in her arms. He couldn’t seem to stop himself—she destroyed his walls all over again, broke Carmine down so it all came flooding out.
