Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
I hear light footsteps, then Becca appears beside me, her chin tipped up. “Long enough.”
She looks like a scholar trapped in a vixen’s skin.
Her long blonde hair is pulled back in that low, no-nonsense ponytail I remember, and her new wire-frame glasses sit perfectly on her delicate nose.
But that’s where the prim psychiatrist ends.
From her red stilettos to her tight, low-cut dress, to her painted red lips, the rest of her is pure, will-testing mafia queen.
My fire queen.
“Are you following your husband, cara mia ?”
She shrugs. “What? You’re the only one who can track people?”
I stare at her, but the corners of my mouth betray me and stretch into a smile.
Becca mirrors me, her pout tipping into the same unprompted grin. “Actually, I came to put flowers on Leo’s grave, and I saw your car.” She sobers, her gaze shifting toward the tombstone. “How long has it been since you’ve visited her?”
“Twenty-two years.”
“Sounds familiar.” She’s quiet for a moment, then lets out a dramatic exhale. “Well…?”
“Well, what?”
“This is my first time meeting my mother-in-law,” she says, gesturing toward my mother’s grave. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
It’s a ridiculous request .
Pointless and awkward.
And something I’ve waited two decades to do.
I slip my arm around her waist and pull her to me, my smile widening. “Ma, I’d like you to meet my wife, Rebecca.” Becca raises an eyebrow at my use of her full name but doesn’t say anything. “Becca, this is my mother, Rosalia Marchesi.”
Becca’s smile brightens. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Marchesi.
I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.
I’m sorry we never got the chance to know each other, but I promise I love your son more than anything in the world.
” Her gaze shifts back to me, my chest tightening at the devotion I see in it.
“And nothing will ever change that. He’s my hero-laced devil. ”
“I told you a long time ago I’m no one’s hero.”
“Tough shit. I’ve bestowed the title, and you’re stuck with it.”
I roll my eyes and glance down at my mother’s grave. “You had to pick Genesis.”
Becca tilts her head. “Huh?”
“Nothing.” I’m not being secretive or evasive. I just need some time alone with this … to process and come to terms with this new me … this new us . I’ll tell her about my mother’s note someday, just not today. “Just my mother playing matchmaker from the great beyond.”
“You think she would’ve approved of us?”
“More than you know. My mother believed love wasn’t something you fell into. It was a stain on your soul you couldn’t outrun.”
Becca stares down at her left hand, her eyebrows drawing together as she spins her wedding ring with the pad of her thumb. “ L'amore è una macchia indelebile sull'anima .” Love is an irreversible stain on the soul.” She peers up at me. “This is her ring, isn’t it?”
I nod. “My father had it engraved as a warning. I guess I gave it to you as one, too.”
She’s silent for a moment, then cocks her chin and looks back up at me, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip like she did in Providence when she was about to twist something simple into something insanely abstract.
“It depends on your interpretation. I think it’s an accurate reminder.
Love is an irreversible stain on the soul.
But when you’ve lived without color for so long, sometimes a stain is the only thing that keeps it from fading away.
You changed red for me, Gianni. It used to be the color of pain, hate, and suffering, the tint of all my nightmares. ”
Damn. Will this woman ever fail to surprise me? I hope not.
“And now?”
“Now, all I see is love, passion, and power.”
Three words that four months ago I would’ve never believed belonged in the same sentence, much less in my life.
Becca Brennan changed me for the better, but I can’t help but worry I’ve done the opposite for her.
She claims to be happy in this marriage now, but what about a year from now …
five years from now … twenty years from now?
What if she wakes up one day and realizes I cost her everything?
“Do you have any regrets, Gianni?”
Her question takes me by surprise. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re somewhere else right now. Plus, you always grind your teeth when you’re thinking too hard.”
“I do not.”
She jabs a finger at my chin. “You’re doing it right now.”
Goddamn it, she’s right.
Unclenching my molars, I turn her toward me and cradle her face.
“While I regret what happened to Victoria, I wouldn’t change anything because it led me to you.
I just wish you didn’t have to go through all that pain and suffering.
” I stare at the fading bruise on her neck, the image of Flynn’s hands around it burned into my memory.
“Now that it’s been a few days, I have to ask…
Is this life something you can live with, even after it stole and ruined yours? ”
“I told you on our wedding night that actions speak louder than words. You met the challenge. I decided it was my turn.” She lifts her wrist, and everything in my life comes to a halt.
She’s turned her darkest shame into something powerful.
A snake now coils around the rose my father forced on her skin, blotting out the dagger. The Marchesi tattoo has claimed victory over a symbol of deception and pain.
Over the monsters that tormented her.
Over the past that haunted her.
I stare at it. It’s more impactful than any ring. It’s a permanent stain on her skin, one that matches the permanent one on my soul.
“This is my vow to you, Gianni,” she says softly. “A symbol of how entwined our lives have been since childhood. My father may have saved me from a monster, but you saved me from myself.”
I watch every word fall from her red-painted lips.
Fire Queen. It seems like another lifetime since she first smeared that shade on and taunted me that day in her office.
She was so timid and unsure, a nervous kitten with sharp claws she didn’t know how to wield.
I overpowered her back then, toyed with her and bent her to my will.
Even as Johnny Malone, she knew things between us went far deeper than what lay on the surface.
And now here we are, over four months later, the same shade on her lips, both of us so different. Dynamics have shifted. Influence has surged. Love has replaced pain and resentment.
Becca claims it’s inevitable, that the only constant in life is change. You either bend with it or fold to it. But anchors don’t fold. They keep you grounded to weather the storms that come your way. Through fire and rain…
Hearts and spades…
And bullets and blades.
I press my lips to her wrist, sliding them up her arm until I find hers.
Our kiss is gentle and honest, an effort that takes extreme willpower.
That’s one thing about us that hasn’t changed.
Touching her will always awaken the darkest side of me.
Our connection will always be volatile and demanding, and behind closed doors, she’ll always be my wingless butterfly.
But that’s just for us. From now on, the world gets nothing but a united, unscalable wall no one can bring down.
I pull back, my demons licking their lips with anticipation. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where are we going?”
“Home, Doc.” Taking her hand, I lead her away from the past. “We’re finally going home.”