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Because he was oblivious after all, or because he cared more about my well-being than he admitted, he lifted me without further ado and carried me into the adjoining bathroom.
He set me down on the wide sink.
I opened my eyes and stared into Dario's face, who was watching me instead of inspecting my hand.
"You won't find the answer to how bad my injury is on my face, by the way." I raised an eyebrow and watched with satisfaction as he turned away and examined my hand instead.
He lifted it into my field of vision.
My middle finger showed an ugly cut. The edges of the wound gaped apart and blood flowed over my hand. I puckered my mouth. "I'll take the wrap," I said.
"I should hope so. You lost, so bleeding to death is out of the question."
"Oh, a relationship with a corpse is too much then?"
Dario swallowed, coughing. He stared at me with widened eyes. His grin looked shocked.
"Where did the dark humor come from all of a sudden?"
"–have to cope with the injury and the defeat somehow." I didn't let him notice I was satisfied with having lost.
"Whatever works," he muttered, pulling a small bag out from under the sink and some medical stuff.
I held out my hand to him, and he pampered me. Somehow this had developed into his new job.
"I wouldn't like it, by the way, if this became a standard thing now. I prefer you alive rather than dead."
"I like that better, too," I muttered, glad that the bleeding wound was disappearing under the bandage.
This also made the pain better. Not having to see the blood anymore gave me some relief.
"I was going to let you win," Dario said as he tied the ends of the bandage straight together.
Surprised, I looked at him. "Why?"
"Because I was going to let you have the extra money that working with Jerome will bring us. But I guess now I can just force you to take it. After all, you can't get rid of me now, and what's mine is yours, too."
"We're not married, Dario."
His laugh was dark. "No, something much worse."
Epilogue
Gia's feet rested on the dashboard, just below the windshield. She had the back of the seat reclined, the window wide open. Her arm hung outside. From above, the sun blazed through the open sunroof. To the side of us, the sea roared, several meters deep, as we drove the narrow road that ran along the Amalfi Coast.
A glance at the speedometer told me we were well over the limit. We wouldn’t survive an accident, but that was what made it thrilling, wasn't it?
"I haven't seen that guy in the rearview mirror in forever," Gia muttered, a little bored.
We had met a young man in front of the church, who had not only talked down to us, but had also challenged us. Did he really think there was something I'd enjoy more than to kick his ass in a race on the same day that I had tricked Gia into saying yes to me?
He believed that. So now, we proved him wrong, and also provided our weekly dose of action and adrenaline. I never got enough of that. Later we would pay a visit tothe Tycheand see which exotic beauty we would spend our wedding night with.
It was our ritual, which had formed in the last years, instead of only the half-legal things that came with this life.
Gia had become more and more involved in family matters as the months passed and had shed some of her anxiety with active participation in all the business dealings.
She had long since ceased to be just any woman in my life, but the most important part of it.
