Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Two weeks have passed in a blur of doctors visits, business meetings, and sleeping with Zoe curled against my side. Tonight, for the first time since everything happened, I've gathered everyone for dinner.
The dining room buzzes with conversation as our family and closest associates gather.
I stand at the head of the table, my gaze sweeping over the faces of those I hold dear.
Zoe sits to my right, a soft glow about her that makes my heart swell.
To my left, Lucrezia manages a small smile, the first I've seen since that terrible day two weeks ago.
Enzo sits beside her, protective as always but less rigid than before.
Alessio and Noah take their places further down, deep in conversation about a football game they are going to attend.
Daniel stands by the door, ever vigilant.
Even Scarlett is here, sitting beside Zoe after finally meeting the family yesterday.
The sight of them all together fills my chest with something I haven't felt in years – hope.
I clear my throat, and the room falls silent. All eyes turn to me, expectant.
"Family," I begin, my voice steady and warm, "we've been through hell these past weeks. We've faced betrayal, violence, and loss. But we've also shown incredible strength and unity."
My hand finds Zoe's shoulder, squeezing gently. The weight of her engagement ring catches the light – a new addition from three days ago when I finally did things right. Properly. On one knee with words that came straight from my heart instead of calculation.
I look at my sister, seeing the shadows still lingering in her eyes despite her brave smile. Her recovery will take time, but she's fighting. My fierce lupacchiotta, always stronger than anyone gives her credit for.
I clear my throat again, meeting each person's eyes before continuing.
"Some of you already know this, but I wanted to share with everyone at once." My hand slides from Zoe's shoulder to rest over her stomach, still flat beneath her dress. "Zoe is pregnant. We're going to have a baby."
Alessio's eyes widen slightly before his face breaks into a rare, genuine smile.
"Congratulations, boss," Noah says, raising his glass.
Enzo's expression softens, and he nods once, the gesture carrying more weight than words could.
Daniel remains stoic by the door, but I catch the slight upward curve of his mouth.
"We're keeping the Feretti name strong," I add, unable to keep the pride from my voice. "A new generation."
I raise my glass, and everyone follows suit. "To family," I say, the simple toast carrying the weight of everything we've survived.
"To family," they echo.
Enzo snorts into his wine. "Never thought I'd live to see my brother looking so domestic."
"Fuck off," I say, but there's no heat in it. "Jealous I beat you to it?"
"Please," Enzo rolls his eyes. "Unlike you, I value my freedom."
Alessio chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "That's not what you said last month when that model from Milan kept calling."
"You're supposed to be on my side," Enzo throws a dinner roll at Alessio, who catches it with one hand without even looking.
Noah shakes his head. "Children, both of you. And in front of the boss's pregnant wife." They all laugh at that.
"Like you're any better," Daniel speaks up from his post by the door, surprising everyone. "Remember Barcelona?"
"We agreed never to mention Barcelona," Noah points a finger at Daniel, who just shrugs, the ghost of a smile on his usually stern face.
The banter feels normal. Good. Like we're healing.
Zoe laughs beside me, her hand covering mine on her stomach. "I can't wait to see what this child learns from all of you."
"Only the important things," Alessio says with mock seriousness. "Like how to properly break someone's fingers."
The door to the dining room swings open, and conversation halts.
Matteo Caruso stands in the doorway, a travel bag slung over his shoulder, confusion etched across his features as he takes in the scene.
"What the fuck did I miss?" he asks, looking between me and Zoe, then at everyone gathered around the table.
Shit. I completely forgot he was returning from Brazil today.
"Matteo," I stand, moving toward him. "Welcome back."
He drops his bag, still looking bewildered.
"It's a long story," I say, clasping his shoulder. "A very long story."
"Clearly," he says, shaking his head. "I leave you alone for a minute and everything goes to hell."
"You have no idea," Enzo calls out, raising his glass.
Matteo looks at Zoe more carefully now. "So you're the one who finally got him to settle down? I'm impressed."
"It wasn't exactly straightforward," Zoe says with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
"Nothing with him ever is," Matteo says, then turns to me. "You could have called."
"You were handling the Brazilians," I say. "And things happened... quickly."
Alessio snorts at the understatement, earning a glare from me.
"Sit," I tell Matteo, gesturing to an empty chair. "Eat. We have a lot to catch you up on."
As I close the door to our bedroom after dinner, Zoe turns to me, her eyes shining with anticipation. I pull her close, savoring the warmth of her body against mine.
Our kisses start slow, tender, but quickly ignite into passionate fervor. Clothes fall away as we explore each other with renewed appreciation. Every touch, every caress feels more intense, more meaningful.
I trace the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the swell of her breasts. She arches into my touch, her skin flushed and heated. I can feel her heartbeat, fast and steady, matching my own.
"I love you," I murmur against her skin, my voice rough with emotion. "More than anything."
"I love you too," she whispers, her fingers tangling in my hair.
I lay her down on the bed, my body covering hers. She welcomes me, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer. I can feel her heat, her need, and it ignites a fire in my veins.
Slowly, teasingly, I enter her. She's so tight, so wet. I savor the feeling of her, the way she envelops me, the way she fits so perfectly.
We move together, our bodies in sync, our hearts beating as one. I lose myself in her, in the feel of her skin, the sound of her moans, the taste of her lips.
"You're mine," I growl, my voice strained with pleasure. "Now and forever."
"Yes," she breathes, her nails raking down my back. "Yours, always."
I can feel her tightening around me, her body coiling like a spring. I know she's close, and I redouble my efforts, determined to bring her to the brink of ecstasy.
"That's it, amore mio," I encourage her, my words hot against her ear.
With a cry, she comes, her body shuddering beneath me, her walls clenching around my cock. I follow a, my vision whiting out, my release pouring into her in pulsing waves.
We collapse together, a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs and racing hearts. I gather her into my arms, cradling her against my chest, feeling her pulse flutter against my skin.
"This is perfect," Zoe murmurs, her voice dreamy. "Being here with you, like this."
"It is," I agree, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "But it's just the beginning, lupacchiotta."
She smiles up at me, her eyes shining with happiness. "I can't wait," she says, her voice filled with promise. "As long as I have you by my side, I'm ready for anything."
I run my fingers lazily along Zoe's spine as we lie together, our bodies cooling in the aftermath of passion.
Her head rests on my chest, her golden hair spilling across my skin like liquid sunshine.
In these quiet moments, I find myself wanting to tell her everything—every dark corner of my past, every scar on my soul.
"Tell me about your parents," she whispers, her voice gentle against the silence of our room. Her finger traces one of my tattoos.
My body tenses involuntarily. Even after all these years, the wound feels fresh. I've never discussed this with anyone outside the family—not with associates, not with lovers. But Zoe isn't just anyone anymore.
"I was sixteen," I begin, my voice rougher than I intend. "A rival family that now doesn't exist, was pushing into our territory. My father refused their terms."
Zoe shifts closer, offering silent encouragement as I struggle with memories I've kept buried.
"One night, I was supposed to be at a friend's house. I came home early." I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "The front door was open. I knew something was wrong."
The images flash before me as vivid as they were that night—the overturned furniture, the smell of blood heavy in the air.
"They were in the living room. My father first, then my mother. So much fucking blood." My fist clenches at my side.
Zoe places her palm over my heart. "You found them."
"I found them," I confirm, my voice hollow. "My father was already gone. My mother..." I close my eyes. "She was still breathing. Just barely. She died while I held her, and she was holding a terrified Lucrezia in her arms."
I feel Zoe's tears against my skin before I realize she's crying.
"I was supposed to become Don later, much later. Instead, I became the head of the family overnight. Enzo was only fourteen. Lucrezia was only two." The responsibility had been crushing, the grief paralyzing. "I buried my parents on Friday. On Monday, I ordered the hit on every lieutenant of them."
I look down at Zoe, at the tears glistening on her cheeks. "Within a month, the family no longer existed in New York. Not a single one left standing."
Her fingers brush against my face, wiping away tears I didn't know I'd shed.
"That's when I became the monster everyone fears," I admit quietly. "I had to be, to keep what remained of my family safe."
"We have so much in common," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "Both of us lost our parents so young. Both of us shaped by people who used our pain."
I tighten my arm around her, drawing her closer.
"The idea that I was sent here to destroy you..." She shakes her head against my chest. "It feels terrible now. Like I was going to destroy part of myself."
I run my fingers through her golden hair, considering her words. Despite everything between us now—the love, the child growing inside her—I can't let her forget who I am. What I am.
"I'm still the same man, Zoe," I say, my voice low and serious. "A man who can destroy anyone if I have reason to. You saw what I did to Byron's men. What I did to him." The memory of their screams still echoes in my mind, the satisfaction of revenge still fresh.
Zoe raises herself up on one elbow, looking directly into my eyes. Her gaze is unflinching, penetrating in a way that makes me feel exposed.
"I know exactly who you are, Damiano," she says with quiet certainty. "You're softer than you think."
I start to protest, but she places a finger against my lips.
"I've seen how you are with Lucrezia. How you look at Enzo. How you treat the staff here." She smiles softly. "How you held me last night when you thought I was asleep."
Her hand moves to cup my cheek, her touch gentle but sure. "Your capacity for violence doesn't define you. It's who you choose to protect that shows me who you really are."
Something tightens in my chest at her words—a mixture of fear and hope. Fear that she's right, that I'm not the untouchable monster I've cultivated; hope that maybe I don't have to be.
"You're wrong," I say, but there's no conviction behind my words.
"No," she replies simply. "I'm not. And you know it."