Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
I'm folding a small onesie Scarlett brought over when Damiano walks into our bedroom, loosening his tie. The fading evening light catches on his sharp jawline, highlighting the day's stubble that's starting to darken his cheeks.
"Pack a bag," he says, shrugging off his suit jacket. "We're leaving for the weekend."
I set down the tiny garment. "Where are we going?"
"Just us. Away from everything." He unbuttons his shirt, revealing the intricate tattoos that map his chest and arms.
I watch as he pulls his shirt off completely. The sight of him still makes my breath catch.
His muscles flex as he reaches for a t-shirt, the movement highlighting the perfect V-shape from his broad shoulders down to his narrow waist.
"See something you like, lupacchiotta?" Damiano's voice drops to that dangerous purr that sends heat pooling low in my belly.
"Just appreciating the view," I answer, trying to sound casual even as my pulse quickens.
He smirks, knowing exactly what effect he has on me. His hands move to his belt buckle, and I find myself unable to look away as he slides the leather through the loops.
Damiano stalks toward me with predatory grace, his eyes darkening. I can't help but bite my lip as I admire the way his muscles ripple beneath his tattooed skin.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that rough velvet tone that makes my skin tingle.
I lean back on my palms, tilting my head with exaggerated innocence. "Am I? I thought I was just packing for our trip."
"Doesn't look like much packing is happening." He's at the edge of the bed now, towering over me.
I reach out and hook my finger through his belt loop, tugging him closer. "I got distracted by this incredibly hot Italian guy who just started stripping in my bedroom."
The corner of his mouth twitches. "Your bedroom?"
"Our bedroom," I correct, unable to contain my grin.
Damiano's hands cup my face, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. "Good girl."
I wrinkle my nose playfully. "Don't push it, Feretti."
His laugh is low and warm, washing over me like honey. In one fluid motion, he places a knee on the bed and leans over me, forcing me to lie back as he hovers above.
"My beautiful, stubborn wife," he whispers, his lips just inches from mine.
I reach up to trace the thorned rose tattoo over his heart. "Your pregnant, hormonal wife who still needs to pack."
"Packing can wait," he says.
When his lips touch mine, everything else fades away. The kiss starts gentle, almost reverent, but quickly deepens into something urgent and consuming. My hands slide up his arms to his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength beneath my fingertips as I pull him closer.
I zip up my small overnight bag, still wondering where Damiano plans to take me. He's been mysteriously tight-lipped about our weekend destination, only telling me to pack casual clothes and a swimsuit.
The door opens and Damiano strides in, looking relaxed in dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that shows off his muscular build. My heart skips a beat - even after everything we've been through, he still has this effect on me.
"Ready to go, lupacchiotta?" His eyes sparkle with mischief.
"You know, you could just tell me where we're going." I cross my arms, trying to look stern despite the smile tugging at my lips.
"And ruin the surprise?" He picks up my bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "Not a chance."
"At least give me a hint?" I follow him out of the room, my hand automatically finding its way into his free one.
"Hmm." He pretends to consider it. "You'll need that swimsuit I told you to pack."
"That's not a hint! You already told me that yesterday."
His deep laugh echoes through the hallway. "Patience isn't your strong suit, is it?"
"Not when someone's being deliberately mysterious." I bump his shoulder playfully with mine.
We head downstairs where Daniel waits by the front door. The morning sun streams through the windows, promising a beautiful day ahead. My excitement builds - wherever we're going, it'll be just the two of us, away from family obligations and business matters.
"The car's ready, boss," Daniel says, opening the door for us.
Damiano guides me outside with his hand on the small of my back. A sleek black Mercedes waits in the driveway, its engine purring quietly.
"No security detail?" I ask, surprised.
"Just us this weekend." He opens the passenger door for me. "Though I did have the location thoroughly checked beforehand."
Of course he did. I slide into the leather seat, watching as he walks around to the driver's side. It's rare to see him drive himself - another sign this weekend is meant to be special.
He settles behind the wheel, starting the car with a smooth rumble. "Ready for an adventure?"
I reach over and squeeze his thigh. "With you? Always."
"Jersey Shore?" I ask, trying to figure out our destination.
Damiano just smirks, his eyes on the road.
The Mercedes slows as we pull into a private drive lined with tall pines.
The trees part to reveal a stunning beach house perched on a small bluff, with weathered cedar siding and massive windows facing the ocean.
It's not what I expected at all - not some palatial mansion, but something intimate and relaxed.
"What is this place?" I ask, my voice soft with surprise.
"Mine," Damiano says simply, parking the car. "Or ours now, I suppose."
I step out of the car, breathing in the salt air. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing fills my ears, and a cool breeze tugs at my hair. This doesn't feel like the kind of property a mafia don would own. It feels... normal. Special.
"I've never heard you mention this house before," I say as Damiano retrieves our bags.
"Because I never bring anyone here." He moves beside me, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. "This is where I come when I need to escape everything. No business, no family obligations. Just... peace."
My heart tightens. The significance isn't lost on me - Damiano rarely shows this side of himself to anyone.
"It's beautiful," I whisper, genuinely touched.
He leads me up wooden steps to a wide deck that wraps around the house. Through the glass doors, I can see an open living area with comfortable-looking furniture, all oriented toward the panoramic ocean view.
"I bought it five years ago," he explains, unlocking the door. "After a particularly rough period. Needed somewhere that wasn't... tainted."
I step inside, immediately drawn to the wall of windows overlooking the Atlantic. The interior is surprisingly cozy - natural woods, soft blues and whites, with none of the opulence of the mansion. There are no pretenses here, no image to maintain.
"This doesn't seem like you," I say, running my hand along a weathered driftwood table.
Damiano sets our bags down. "Maybe it's more me than anything else you've seen."
I turn to look at him, this man I thought I knew completely. The man I once planned to destroy, who became my protector, my lover, the father of my child. And now I'm seeing yet another layer.
"Thank you," I say simply. "For sharing this with me."
Damiano steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as we gaze out at the ocean. His warm breath tickles my neck as he pulls me closer against his chest.
"I have plenty of things to share with you, lupacchiotta," he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. "Not just this house."
I lean back into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my spine. "Like what?"
He turns me gently in his arms until we're face to face. His dark eyes, usually so guarded and calculating, now look at me with such naked vulnerability that my breath catches.
"Like every part of me I've kept hidden." His voice drops lower, rougher.
His hands come up to cradle my face, thumbs tracing my cheekbones with such tenderness it makes my heart ache.
"You crashed into my life and shattered every wall I built." His Italian accent thickens with emotion. "Even when you came to destroy me, you ended up saving me instead."
I swallow hard, feeling tears prick behind my eyes.
"Ti amo con tutta l'anima," he whispers. "I love you with my entire soul. Not just pieces of me, but everything I am. The monster and the man. The darkness and whatever light you've somehow found in me."
His forehead touches mine, our breaths mingling.
"Before you, I existed. With you, I live." His voice breaks slightly. "You are the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins. My redemption when I thought I was beyond saving."
One of his hands slides down to rest protectively over my stomach, where our child grows.
"You've given me a future when I was trapped in the past." His eyes shine with unshed tears. "A family when I thought I'd lost my chance. Hope when I'd forgotten what it felt like."
I can't stop my own tears from falling now, overwhelmed by the raw emotion in his words, in his touch.
"You own me completely, Zoe," he says fiercely. "Not because I gave you power over me, but because loving you has become as natural and necessary as breathing. Without you, I would be a fucking dead man walking."
Zoe's naked body is tangled in the sheets, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow like liquid gold. We've spent the last twenty-four hours making love in every corner of this place - against the windows, in the jacuzzi, on the kitchen counter.
Fuck, I never thought I could feel this way about anyone after. But here I am, staring at my wife like a lovesick teenager.
The vibration of my phone on the nightstand cuts through the peaceful silence. I reach for it quickly, hoping it doesn't wake Zoe. My eyes narrow at the screen - Alessio calling at 2:17 a.m. is never good news.
I slip out of bed and pad naked to the balcony, sliding the glass door closed behind me. The cool Atlantic breeze hits my skin as I answer.
"This better be important," I growl into the phone.
"Damiano." Alessio's voice is tight, controlled. I immediately recognize his crisis tone. "We have a problem. A big one."
My body tenses, hand gripping the railing. "What happened?"
"The Venetian Rose. There's been an incident." He pauses, and I can hear muffled voices in the background. "I can't discuss details over the phone, but we are demanding your presence. Now."
"Fuck." I run my hand through my hair. "Did anyone get hurt?" I ask, my mind already calculating worst-case scenarios.
"No casualties on our side. That's all I can say."
I turn to see Zoe standing in the doorway, wrapped in a sheet. Her eyes are alert despite being woken from deep sleep.
"I'll be there in two hours," I tell Alessio. "Keep everything contained until then."
"Already working on it." A pause. "I'm sorry, Dam. I know this weekend was important."
I hang up and meet Zoe's questioning gaze. The disappointment washing over me is almost physical.
"We have to go back," I say, crossing to her. "There's an emergency at the casino."
Her face falls momentarily before that steel I love so much returns to her eyes. "How bad?"
"Bad enough that Alessio called instead of handling it." I cup her face gently. "I'm sorry, vita mia."
She leans into my touch. "It's okay. I knew what I signed up for when I married you."
I press my forehead against hers, breathing her in. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."
"You better," she whispers, attempting a smile. "Now let's get dressed."
My woman. Always stronger than she should have to be.
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