Chapter 31
thirty-one
KITANIA
I wiped the sweat from my brow, body still buzzing from the self-defense lesson Gio and Enzo had just dragged me through in the gym. My muscles ached with a deep, satisfying soreness—the kind that promised I’d be feeling it tomorrow, but also meant I was getting stronger.
I could still feel the pound of my heartbeat as we crossed into the living room. Enzo peeled off toward the kitchen for water while Gio tossed a towel over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on me with that quiet, assessing look he always gave after training.
“Not bad, Omega,” he murmured, low and a little smugly. “You’re learning fast.”
I felt the warm glow of accomplishment as Gio’s approving gaze swept over me, his earthy scent intensified by exertion.
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, then immediately grimaced. “Sorry. I’m all sweaty.”
I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. “I like you best when you’re all sweaty.”
His eyes darkened instantly, casual affection giving way to heated intensity. “Behave yourself.”
“What fun would that be?” I challenged, tilting my head back to meet his gaze.
Gio’s hands found my waist, steadying me against him as he lowered his head to capture my lips in a quick but searing kiss. When he pulled back, there was that devastatingly charming half-smile that never failed to make butterflies erupt in my stomach.
“Knew there was a reason I loved you,” he teased, giving my hip a gentle squeeze before stepping away. “I’m gonna grab a shower.”
I watched him head toward the stairs, admiring the play of muscles beneath his damp t-shirt. The bond between us thrummed contentedly, and I felt his satisfaction through it—both from the workout and from our banter.
Behind me, Marco’s deep voice cut through my thoughts. “So we’re agreed on Golden Dragon for dinner?”
“Hell yeah,” Tommy replied enthusiastically. “Haven’t had their Kung Pao Chicken in forever.”
I turned to find them gathering their wallets and keys from the side table. Enzo was nodding in agreement, pulling out his phone, presumably to place the order.
“Extra spring rolls this time,” I reminded them, moving closer to the group. “Last time, you guys demolished them before I even finished one.”
Marco grinned, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side. The familiar scent of leather and musk enveloped me, comforting and exciting all at once. “Not our fault you eat so slow, babe.”
“Some of us like to taste our food instead of inhaling it,” I replied, poking him in the ribs.
“Don’t worry, Angel. I’m only teasing. I’ll make sure to add extra to your plate this time. My Omega will want for nothing—even spring rolls.”
I snickered, then popped up onto my toes to give him a ‘thank you’ kiss.
Tommy jingled a set of keys, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, we taking the new Bugatti?”
Marco’s face shifted from relaxed to cautious in an instant. “Only if I’m driving.”
“Come on,” Tommy practically whined. “You haven’t let me drive it once.”
“There’s a reason for that.” Marco snatched the keys from Tommy’s hand. “Last time I let you drive something nice, you dented my Lambo.”
Tommy rolled his eyes dramatically. “That was when I was sixteen! Are you ever going to let me live that down?”
“When you’ve proven yourself worthy.” Marco twirled the keys around his finger.
Tommy sighed like the quintessential younger brother. “Which means never.”
Marco shot me a wink, letting me know he was teasing, though thoroughly enjoying his brother’s misery.
“I’ll come with you to pick up the food,” Tommy decided, following Marco toward the door. “At least let me drive on the way back.”
“We’ll see,” Marco replied noncommittally.
They both paused at the door, each taking their turn to give me a quick kiss goodbye. Tommy’s was playful, a gentle peck with a little nip to my bottom lip, while Marco’s lingered just a beat longer, his hand finding the small of my back to pull me closer.
“Don’t start anything fun without us,” Tommy called over his shoulder as they headed out, their bickering fading down the hallway.
I smiled to myself, the threads of our bonds stretching but remaining strong even as they moved away from the penthouse. The space suddenly felt quieter, though not uncomfortably so. Dimitri was in his office handling some business matters, his presence steady and reassuring through our bond despite the closed door between us.
A soft whine drew my attention to Beretta, our Doberman, who lay curled on his plush bed near the large windows. I frowned, noticing his food dish was still mostly full.
“He hasn’t been eating much today,” I said, more to myself than to Dimitri or Enzo as I picked up the dish. “That’s not like him at all.”
Enzo pushed off from the wall where he’d been leaning, approaching Beretta with an outstretched hand. The dog lifted his head, allowing Enzo to scratch behind his ears.
“Maybe he just needs a little exercise to get his appetite back,” Enzo suggested. “I could take him for a walk if you want.”
I hesitated, glancing at the dish in my hands. “You wouldn’t mind? I’ve got stuff in the oven...”
“Not at all.” Enzo was already reaching for Beretta’s leash hanging by the door. “We won’t be gone long. Come on, buddy.”
Beretta perked up at the word “walk,” obediently trotting over to Enzo and sitting patiently while the leash was clipped to his collar.
“Thanks, Zo. You’re the best.” I set the dish back down for later, hoping he’d eat it when they returned.
“No problem.” Enzo grinned, giving me a quick salute before heading out with Beretta.
I watched them go, noting how Niles—one of the security team who often guarded our door—nodded respectfully as Enzo passed. Then the door clicked shut, and I headed for the kitchen, excitement bubbling through me as I thought about the mini cheesecakes in the oven. I’d been experimenting with the steam function, and the results had been promising so far.
The kitchen timer dinged just as I entered, and I bounced on the balls of my feet as I grabbed the oven mitts. The rich aroma of tangy cream cheese and vanilla filled the air as I opened the door, revealing perfectly formed cheesecake.
“Oh, these look amazing,” I murmured to myself, sliding the tray onto the pot holders waiting on the counter. The second batch was ready to go in, and I carefully transferred them to the rack, adjusting the settings to make sure everything was just right.
I was so focused on my task that I didn’t hear Dimitri approach until his scent—sandalwood and honey—wrapped around me, moments before his arms did the same.
“Smells heavenly,” he said, his deep voice close to my ear, the rumble sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.
I leaned back against his solid chest. “I think I’ve finally mastered this recipe.”
Dimitri turned me in his arms until I was facing him, his chocolate eyes roaming over my face with an intensity that still made my heart race, even after all this time. “Yeah, Kitten, I think you have,” he agreed, “but I wasn’t talking about the baked goods.”
Before I could respond, he lifted me effortlessly and placed me on the kitchen island, stepping between my thighs as if it was the most natural thing in the world—which, I supposed, it was.
“You’re smooth when you want to be, you know that?” I teased, wrapping my arms around his neck.
His lips quirked in that rare half-smile that was reserved only for me and his brothers. “Only when it matters.”
My breath caught as he leaned in, one large hand cupping the back of my neck while the other settled possessively on my hip. When our lips met, molten heat curled through me. I melted into him, fingers threading through his short dark hair as the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine in a slow, sensual dance that made my whole body sing.
Dimitri pressed closer, the hard planes of his chest against mine, and I wrapped my legs around his waist to keep him there. His hand slid under the hem of my workout tank, rough fingers skimming over the sensitive skin of my waist, making me gasp into his mouth.
Just as things were getting interesting, the shrill ring of his phone cut through the moment. Dimitri pulled back with a sigh, his forehead resting against mine for a brief second before he reached for his pocket.
“Cristenello,” he answered, voice still husky from our kiss.
I watched as his expression shifted, the warm, attentive mate replaced by the dangerous mafia boss in the span of a heartbeat. His jaw tightened, brows drawing together as he listened to whoever was on the other end.
“I’ll handle it,” he said finally, then ended the call. When he looked at me again, there was genuine regret in his eyes. He winced apologetically, pointing toward his office.
“I need to call Emilio.”
I understood immediately. “Go,” I said softly, blowing him a kiss. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
Dimitri pressed his lips to my forehead before striding toward his office, already dialing, then closing the door behind him with a soft click that somehow felt like a physical separation between us. Through our bond, I could feel his agitation, the sharp edges of anger and concern that he was trying to contain.
I sighed, hopping down from the counter to free each cheesecake and transfer them to cooling racks. It had taken me a while to come to terms with the private parts of Dimitri’s life—things he kept separate for my protection, as much as for business reasons. I knew he’d open up to me when he was ready, when he could, but there would always be some aspects of his life that he kept locked away.
As I moved around the kitchen, I became more aware of the bonds connecting me to each of my mates. Marco and Tommy were the farthest away now, their presence in my mind growing more stretched and strained with physical distance. I could still feel their excitement—Tommy’s especially—probably as they argued over who would drive on the way back.
Gio’s thread was much closer, warm and content as he showered upstairs. I could almost feel the hot water soothing his muscles, easing the strain of the increased difficulty in his training routine as he prepared for his next fight. The thought still made my stomach clench uneasily—I hated the idea of anyone taking a jab at my mate—but I’d promised myself I’d grit my teeth and be supportive. It was important to him, so it was important to me.
Dimitri’s presence was nearest and strongest, despite the closed door, his tension a counterpoint to Gio’s relaxation. Whatever call he’d received, it wasn’t good news.
I was placing my mini spring-form pans into the sink when the penthouse door burst open with such force that I jumped, nearly dropping everything.
Enzo appeared in the kitchen doorway, breathless and wild-eyed. “Kit! It’s Beretta,” he gasped, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the door. “Something’s wrong with him.”
My heart lurched in my chest as I followed Enzo into the hallway. Outside, Niles was already on the phone, his usual composed demeanor replaced by urgent tension as he spoke rapidly to someone—the vet, I gathered from the fragments of conversation I could hear.
Beretta lay on the floor, his powerful body convulsing with labored breaths. The sight of our strong, proud dog reduced to this pitiful state made tears spring to my eyes. When he saw me, he let out a weak whine, his brown eyes seeming to beg for help. I dropped to my knees, hand hovering over his short, dark coat.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Enzo said, voice tight with what sounded like genuine fear. “He was fine, then suddenly he just collapsed. I had to carry him back. He’s not doing well, Kit. We need to move fast if he has any chance.”
I looked back toward the penthouse door, thinking of Dimitri in his office, of Gio upstairs. “I should get D and Gio.” I was already halfway to my feet.
Beretta whined again, a high-pitched cry that pierced through my chest.
Enzo’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist. “There’s no time, Kit. He’s fading fast. I could barely get him back upstairs.”
The raw panic in his voice made my decision for me. I grabbed my purse from the hook by the door, fumbling for my phone. “I’ll call D, let him know what’s happening. He can meet us at the vet.” Turning toward Niles, I made sure he’d called Dr. Berk at the Silver City Vet Hospital—the very place Beretta had recovered after being shot.
Together with Enzo and Niles, we carefully lifted Beretta, his body seemingly heavier than usual as we maneuvered into the elevator. I sat on the floor with him during the descent, stroking his head and murmuring reassurances, trying to ignore the cold dread seeping through me. Beretta was more than just a pet—he was family. I couldn’t let anything happen to him. I couldn’t.
When the elevator opened to the garage beneath the highrise, we gently transferred Beretta to the backseat of one of the guys’ standard sleek black town cars. I slid in beside him, cradling his head in my lap as Niles slammed the door shut, pounding on the roof to signal we were good to go.
The car lurched forward before I’d even fully settled, tires squealing as Enzo accelerated out of the garage. I fumbled with my phone, trying to call Dimitri, but it wouldn’t connect, the screen stuck in ‘dialing’ with zero sound.
I tried again, wondering if it had anything to do with being underground at first. We were on the streets now, weaving through traffic while Beretta whined softly. I stroked his head, tears blurring my vision as I hit D’s contact again. When it wouldn’t go through, I tried Gio next. Still, nothing.
Confusion gave way to the first flutters of unease as I leaned toward the partition between the front and back seats. “‘Zo! I can’t get my phone to work. Can you call D? Tell him to meet us at the vet?”
Beretta whimpered again, and I whispered soothing reassurances as I prayed for the car to go faster, for us to reach the vet in time.
When I looked up, Enzo was watching me in the rearview mirror, and what I saw in his eyes froze the breath in my lungs.
It wasn’t concern or panic for Beretta. It was pure, utter regret, quickly replaced by hardened determination.
He pressed the button that raised the partition.
“I’m sorry, Kit,” he said quietly just before it closed between us with a definitive click.