Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
STEFANO
TEN DAYS LATER…
“ I don’t think you ever officially asked me to move in with you, you know?” Katerina says with a wry smile as I help her out of the car. She’s still recovering, but her doctor gave her the all clear to be discharged this morning. If she could have, she’d have sprinted out of there. She’s been climbing the walls for the last ten days. She hates being idle.
“I promised I’d marry you, that’s the same thing,” I say, kissing her forehead as she reaches her full height.
“It is-fucking-not.” Her tone is light, and she’s not wrong.
I take her hand in mine and bring it to my lips, kissing the back of it. “Katerina Mancini, will you do me the honour of making this house a home by moving in with me?” I tilt my head, a slightly arrogant smile covering my face, knowing that there’s only one answer she’ll give me. She’s already claimed me in front of her father.
“Are you really hitting me with a dimple-laden smoulder right now? What if I want you to move into my house?” Her eyebrow quirks in a playful challenge.
“But all your stuff is here,” I say, pulling her towards my—our—front door.
“True, and I do hate moving.”
She leans in, claiming a soft kiss, and I moan when her eager tongue swipes against the seam of my lips. We lose ourselves in the moment, tongues tangling, breath ragged, and the taste of her stirring far more than my emotions.
“I would live with you anywhere you wanted, Katerina,” I whisper.
“It’s a good job I want to live here then, isn’t it, vecchietto? ”
Doctors make the worst patients. It doesn’t seem to matter that hers gave her a long list of things she could and couldn’t do while she was recovering, Katerina seems to be going out of her way to ignore it and test the limits of my patience.
“Sit your ass down and let me fetch you what you need, woman.”
She sits back against the cushions and folds her arms in front of her while fixing a glare at me. She can scowl at me all she likes; it’s not going to stop me from doing everything I can to look after her.
“I’m perfectly capable of finding my e-reader without assistance.” She couldn’t sound any more contrary if she tried. Adorable little brat that she is.
“And the doctor said to take it easy and let me do the heavy lifting.”
“My e-reader isn’t heavy,” she snarks back at me.
“No, but the bag it’s in is upstairs and heavy as fuck. Keep your ass on that sofa. That’s an order.” I try to temper my frustration, but with her incision still healing, the last thing I want is for her to cause herself any further injuries.
I still feel guilty every time I catch her glancing at her scar, overcome by waves of shame that I couldn’t spare her the pain she’s suffered. What if every time she sees it, it reminds her of how I failed her?
“Fine.” She punctuates her reluctant submission by dragging the blanket from the back of the couch and flipping it over her outstretched legs.
She isn’t able to maintain the scowl when I lean over to kiss her cheek, whispering, “There’s my good girl,” in her ear. Katerina lets out the slightest of whimpers at my words, drawing out a contented low rumble from me in response.
“You make me happier than anything else in the world, baby girl. I’m going to take care of you for as long as you’ll let me. ”
KATERINA
I just might be the world’s worst patient. In my defence, I’m not a woman who’s designed to do nothing. However, I could get used to this.
I’m lazing on the sofa reading a book with my legs flung over Stefano’s lap, as the last rays of the afternoon sun stream through the windows. He’s reclining at the opposite end with a leather-bound book in one hand while the other strokes gentle circles along my calf.
I place my e-reader down and reach for the glass on the coffee table, immediately drawing the attention and wrath of my overprotective nurse.
“I’ll get it,” he says, dropping his book and handing me the glass.
My face drops. I hate being so fragile, but it will be a while before I feel like myself. There appears to be no damage to my heart, which I’m thankful for, but it’s no mean feat recovering from a sternotomy. It’s not the foot-long scar that reminds me of my injuries every day, it’s the ache in my chest where my bones are literally knitting themselves back together.
I look down at my incision. It’s been a few days since the surgical dressing was removed and honestly, it doesn’t affect me as much as I expected it to. I think it was scarier when it was fully covered. I worried that it would make me look damaged; that I was in some way broken. But the longer I look at it, the less it bothers me.
It changes a little every day, and while it’s currently an angry red line nestled in a bed of mottled bruises, I know from experience that all scars fade .
“Does it upset you?” Stefano asks quietly, like he’s scared to hear the answer.
“Do your bullet wounds bother you?” He raises his brows in shock. “Don’t think I missed the scars on the back of your inner thigh when I was on my knees for you all those times,” I tease.
“I mean, no, not really.” He takes a moment, canting his head as he thinks about it. “They hurt like hell at the time, but I hardly notice them these days.”
“Well, there’s your answer then,” I say matter-of-factly, taking a sip before handing it back to him to place on the coffee table.
He strokes my ankle with his palm as he says, “It’s hardly the same thing, baby girl.”
“No, I guess it’s not. And honestly, it’s tough to look at it some days, but ultimately all scars heal in time.”
Time stretches out as my words hang in the air for longer than feels natural. Stefano casts his eyes down before asking. “Will you ever be able to forgive me for failing you?”
My heart breaks for him. The anguish in his voice is unbearable.
I shuffle across towards him, glaring when his expression shifts to one of panic, like he thinks I’m going to hurt myself. My chest is tender as I stretch and move to my knees, but it’s not painful. I lift my leg and carefully straddle his lap, masking a smile when his face blanches with concern and his palms shoot to my hips to steady me. I run my fingers along his jawline and tip his head back, demanding all of his focus .
“You listen here, vecchietto . You did not fail me. You saved me, amore mio .”
“I couldn’t protect you,” he replies, anguish lacing his words.
“I never asked for you to be my protector, Stefano. I need a partner in crime, not a knight in shining armour. I only ask that you promise to be mine.”
It takes a moment, but eventually, he returns my smile, and I get lost in his midnight-blue eyes. They show me everything I need to know.
“Sempre tuo, Katerina.”
“Always yours.”