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“I know. But does she?”
I glare at my best friend. Why is he so concerned about my wife? I know I should be thankful, but fuck him. I don’t bother answering his question. “Just drive me to her apartment.”
* * *
I knock on the door. It’s silent inside. Checking my watch, I see it’s a little after eleven. Fuck, she’s going to be pissed. I smile at the prospect of fucking the anger out of her.
“Maybe she’s asleep. Don’t you have a key.”
“Do you think I’d be sitting out here if I had a fucking key?” I growl. I nod at the four men standing with their backs to the wall. “She still in there?” I ask them. I had them stationed in front of Helena’s café before I even made it back to the house.
“Hasn’t left,” one of them says. I pivot, about to kick the fucking door in, when it swings open with an angry-looking Helena glaring at me with her arms folded.
“About fucking time,” I growl.
I push past her and stop dead in my tracks. There, sitting on the couch, is Angelica fucking Donatello. Fuck me. I don’t know how to process what I’m seeing right now. I’ve met her, years ago when we were kids. And I’ve seen photos of her in the tabloids. But looking at her now, it’s sinking in that she’s my fucking sister. Half sister. What the fuck is she doing here? I turn back to Helena. “Where’s Holly?”
“Bedroom. But, Theo, you should know…”
I don’t hear the rest of her sentence before I’m quietly closing the bedroom door behind me. The bathroom light is on, blanketing the space with a soft glow. I walk and bend over the bed, stroking Holly’s hair from her face. I gulp, preparing myself for the outburst she’s likely to spew my way. Deservedly so too. I fucking left her, alone and barely dressed. Granted, I left her protected, but she doesn’t know that. Was she scared?
“Dolcezza, wake up,” I say softly, peppering light kisses on her pouty lips. Her eyes spring open, like she’s been lying here awake. Waiting. Waiting for me, again. Even in the dim light, I can see the redness and swelling of her eyes. She’s been crying, again. “Fuck, Holly, I’m sorry. So sorry.”
She puts her fingers to her lips and looks behind her as she rises from the bed. That’s when I notice she’s not alone. What the fuck? There’s a kid next to her. “Do not wake her up. Out now!” Holly whispers harshly.
I stand and stare down at the little girl asleep beneath the covers. Something in my heart twitches at the sight of her. Is it because the sight of Holly with a child is bloody appealing to me, or is it because I know the kid’s my niece? Donatello’s granddaughter. This is the little girl that, that fucking bastard Giovani was planning on stealing right out from under their noses. If anything, the weeks I spent in Italy weren’t a total waste. At the very least, I’m thankful I got the information on that fucked-up plan and was able to put a stop to it. I let Holly shove me out of the bedroom door; she gently shuts it behind her.
“What the bloody hell, T? What right do you think you have to barge in here in the middle of the goddamn night?” she hisses as she makes her way to the kitchen.
“What right?” I raise my eyebrows and follow her. “You’re my fucking wife. That’s what right I have.”
“Your wife? Really. Well, as your wife, I would have thought—gee, I don’t know—knowing where you were all day would be a courtesy. Or how’s this? Not leaving me in a bloody coffee shop, wearing nothing but a bathrobe.”
“I told Helena to have you wait for me. I was coming back for you, dolcezza.” I keep my voice calm—well, as calm as I can. I can’t fucking help the fact that her anger turns me on. I pivot to glare at Helena. She had one fucking job.
“Don’t look at her. This isn’t her fault,” Holly snaps. “And why didn’t you two wake me up? That tequila had my name on it.” She points to the coffee table, where two bottles of Patrón sit. One empty, one half-full.
“Well, you just looked so peaceful. And you didn’t even make it through one story,” Helena answers, while Angelica just stares between Holly and me.
Fuck this… There are too many people here. I need to get my wife alone. I’m not having this conversation in front of an audience. “Dolcezza, get your stuff. We’re going home.” I’ve been on the receiving end of a fuck-ton of icy death glares before. But none have ever rattled me as much as the one Holly is giving me now.
“And where exactly is home, T? In your penthouse, where two people were murdered and left to rot in our bed? At the brownstone that just got shot up this morning? Tell me, where is home, because I’m starting to lose track.” She folds her arms over her chest, and my eyes are immediately drawn to her cleavage.
This is not how the night was supposed to go. I was planning on making her come so hard she forgot she was even mad at me to begin with. I can’t do that with all these fucking people watching us. “Home is wherever you are, dolcezza. Home is wherever we are together. Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there.” I wrap my arms around her rigid frame. It doesn’t take long for her to relax and melt into me.
Then she remembers she’s pissed and pushes me away. “No, you’re not doing your voodoo shit on me right now. I’m not leaving this apartment tonight. So, either you can go home by yourself, or you can… I don’t know what you can do, but I’m staying.”
Bending forward, I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder, walking towards the balcony to get some semblance of privacy. “Neo, take Helena home,” I tell him before I shut the sliding glass door behind us, ignoring the elephant in the room that is Angelica. I may not want to deal with her at the moment, but I’m not about to kick her or her daughter out in the middle of the night either. I don’t know how to process the feelings I’m having for those two right now.
“Put me down, T. Bloody hell, it’s freezing out here,” Holly yells.
“Fuck. Sorry, dolcezza. Here, put this on.” I take off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. She accepts the gesture. And I don’t miss the way she pulls the collar up and inhales deeply. I follow her to the ground as she sits with her back against the wall, staring out into the night sky.
“You left me… again,” she says, breaking our silence.
“I know. I’m sorry, Holly. Fuck, I don’t know what to do here.”
“You promised you wouldn’t leave me, and you just left me sitting in a coffee shop.”
