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After I’ve got the record spinning, I turn toward Giana, and just as every other time I look at her, I’m in awe. Of her beauty, her resilience…her strength. I swear to God, she could make a sinner fall to his knees and pray.
She’s done it to me more times than I can count.
She’s also started asking me to go to therapy, and I don’t know how to tell her it’s not my style. Hell, I know I could use it. Who the fuck couldn’t? Especially in my line of work and with a fucked-up past like mine. But feelings?
I do my best to shove them down and throw myself into work or other things to take my mind off it. Especially what that Martínez fucker did to her. He’s still paying for that, and I intend to keep him paying for a very, very long time.
I feel my anger start to get the best of me, so I try to shut it off, but it’s difficult. He’s fucking gutted the woman I love. He’s forever changed her in a way that’s going to take a long fucking way to come back from. And while my promise to her is solid, and I’m not going anywhere…it just fucking kills me that she’s in pain.
And just like many times in my life, there’s nothing I can do to fix it.
She looks over at me and smiles, and I see the thoughtful look in her eye. I can only hope whatever she’s thinking about is something good and she’s not getting sucked into everything that happened.
She’s wearing a teal tank top that exposes her shoulder and the scar that’s set deep into her skin. It’s started healing, but it’s got a long way to go. I roam my gaze over her body, her face—to the other scar, the one on her cheek, which is also healing; the result of being hit with a pocket watch when she was kidnapped.
We came here to get away. To rest and not think about her family or mine or The Blood Syndicate fuckers. We came to this little spot so we could heal. Both of us, even if I am pretending I’m just a big, bad mafia man who is only soft for his woman.
I know there’s shit I need to work through, but I’d rather keep my tough exterior up for a while longer.
For some reason, Enzo crosses my mind as I’m thinking of the things I need to get a handle on. And my nerves ignite. The fucking traitor. We have a whole other issue on our hands. One we’re still sorting out. But he’s waiting for me underneath the club. And I can’t wait to decide exactly what I’ll do to the bastard.
“What are you thinking about over there?” she calls out to me as she catches me watching her for the second time. “Something I can help you with?”
She cocks her head, and that little messy bun thing she’s got going on flops around on her head with the sudden movement. She’s so fucking sexy, and she’s not even trying to be.
I chuckle and hold my hand out, feeling like our timing has always been a bit off, so why not keep it up?
“Come dance with me,” I demand, and she obliges.
Fuck if I don’t miss that sweet pussy of hers. Especially when she wears tiny little panties like the ones she’s got on right now, barely there little things. But at the same time, I really did mean it when I told her I liked our relationship building up in this way too.
And I really will wait forever if that means she’s comfortable.
More than anything else in this fucking world…I just love her.
She saunters over to me after setting her coffee down, and I take her in my arms as “Let’s Stay Together” starts crackling through the speakers. I try to sing a couple words, but I’m fucking tone deaf, and although she doesn’t laugh, her smirk tells me as much.
“Keep going. I liked it!” she commands, and it’s my turn to oblige.
“Resta com me per sempre,” I tell her. “Stay with me forever.”
She mutters an “Always,” and I relax. The feeling of her body loosening in my arms and her hand in mine is pure fucking magic. Actually, Giana herself is magic. The best fucking kind.
I sing to her as I spin and sway her all around the cabin’s living room, and the smile on her face is so similar to the ones she had before all of this happened… It gives me hope.
Dangerous, dangerous hope.
But at the same time…it’s necessary.
So fucking necessary.
The song ends, and I take a bow, hoping she’ll do the same. When she does, I quickly get down on one knee and pull a small black box out of my pocket.
As she stands back up and realizes I’m now on the floor, a shocked gasp leaves her lips as both of her hands fly up to her mouth.
“Dante!”
“Shh, angel. Spotlight’s on me.”
