Chapter Thirteen
Marcello
On the ride home from the hospital I can still taste him on my mouth.
The kiss Elio initiated was nothing and everything.
The fact he kissed me makes me feel stupidly warm and fuzzy.
I can feel his kiss sitting on my lips the whole ride, the soft pressure of his mouth and the way he pushed up on his toes to reach me.
He’s turned me into a sap. I’ve never been the kind of alpha who sat around daydreaming about an omega. But it’s all so different with Elio.
I’m different.
He seemed pleased I wasn’t returning to Italy.
That sends another warm, hopeful pulse through me.
Carlo and the others can handle the remaining meetings.
I need to be with my omega right now. During my trip, I was distracted and unable to push him from my mind.
I could literally feel his pain from another country. Our bond grows stronger every day.
Anthony pulls through the gates, passing the armed guards with a nod.
The estate is quiet in the late afternoon light.
The limestone glows amber. The gardens are deep green and still.
I go inside and the house smells like whatever Ornella is baking.
It’s good to be home. The trip was long and stressful, and I’m looking forward to sleeping in my own bed without having to keep one eye open.
I slip upstairs to shower and change, shedding the stink of travel, before saying hello to Mama and my sisters. Then, exhausted or not, I go to my study to work. Leaving Italy early doesn’t mean the work is finished. It just means I have to handle it from here instead.
I sit at my desk and read financial reports so dry and dull my eyes cross.
Carlo calls to brief me on a few of the meetings he’s sat in on in my place.
I listen. I respond. None of it sticks. While usually I’m consumed by work, I can’t focus today.
It’s difficult to resist the urge to go back to the hospital.
So many days without my omega beside me has given me an ache deep in my chest. The only time it halted was when I was with Elio at the hospital.
But he needs this time with his brother.
I can’t be there. I have to accept that.
He texts later that night around 9:00 p.m.
Fabio’s awake and talking. Staying tonight. Don’t want to leave him yet.
I type back, Glad he’s doing well. Get some rest if you can.
What I want to type is something else entirely.
I want to tell him to come home to me. That I need him in my bed.
But I restrain that selfish, controlling impulse and instead set my phone on the desk and breathe.
I need to give him his space. I must be understanding and not grasping.
He’ll come home to me eventually. Right now he needs to be with his brother.
Around midnight I give up on work and move to the library.
I pour a scotch and sit in the leather chair by the cold fireplace.
I’m glad I made the decision to come back.
The thought of him sitting there alone in the hospital waiting room, trying to keep it together, had been too much.
And he’d been happy to see me, which makes the jet lag worth it.
I go to bed feeling proud that I put him first. It’s new for me to consider an omega’s feelings before my own. I’m careful with my family, but other than them, I’ve always allowed my selfish side to lead. I’ve always taken what I want from others without thinking about the consequences for them.
I didn’t treat Sandro very carefully. Work always came first. Hell, everything always came first. I feel a nudge of guilt at how I was with Sandro.
In hindsight, I could have been kinder. While giving me an ultimatum wasn’t smart on his part, I guess I understand why he did it.
When you love someone, you can’t help but claw for more of them.
Poor Sandro hadn’t realized how expendable he was.
It was different with Elio from the start.
Yes, I was still a selfish asshole with him, and my needs mattered more than his.
But there was something about him from the beginning that tugged at me.
Something that made me crave his company.
His taste. His approval. I didn’t like it when he wasn’t near me.
After our first meeting, I couldn’t get him out of my head.
Then when I claimed him, everything changed exponentially.
Everything intensified. I hate it when he’s away for more than an hour.
There’s a physical ache when he’s gone from me.
I crave his scent and his warm body near mine.
His happiness now means more to me than my own.
That’s probably the biggest tell. To put another’s needs before my own isn’t my usual MO. But I’ll do it for Elio.
I’ve never believed in fated mates, but my devotion to Elio, my need to please him, the ache I feel when he’s not near, it’s made me a believer. The connection we share is visceral. Painful at times like these, when I can’t be with him.
I finish my drink and go to bed missing Elio. The next morning, I’m frustrated when Elio texts again saying he won’t be coming home right away.
Fabio’s color is coming back. Dr. Ashworth says his recovery is textbook.
I respond. That’s wonderful.
The dots bounce for a bit as he types his response.
I might stay another night. If that’s okay.
Gritting my teeth against my disappointment, I force myself to type the words he needs to hear.
Stay as long as you need.
He’ll never know how much it cost me to type those words instead of the ones I wanted.
I reassure myself that by giving him space, he’ll want to return to me more willingly.
I must learn to give him a choice, instead of demanding what I want from him.
With an omega like Elio, it’s the only way to keep him happy. And I want him happy.
The next day, he finally comes home. It’s not until around 7:00 p.m., but at least he’s finally back.
I’m in the library when he arrives. I’ve been trying for an hour to read the same damn paragraph of a quarterly report from a baseball team I own, when I hear the car outside. My pulse picks up speed as I set the report down and rise. I hear Mama’s voice in the foyer as well as my sisters.
When I enter the vestibule, Elio is being fussed over by my family.
He’s distracted so that gives me time to look at him.
While he has shadows under his eyes, he looks happy.
Relieved. Maybe even glad to be home? There’s stubble along his sharp jaw, and his shirt is wrinkled.
His blond hair is mussed, but despite his disheveled appearance, he’s the most beautiful sight.
“Is it possible you’ve lost weight in two days?” Mama is saying, poking at his ribs. “Did you eat? Please tell me you weren’t eating out of vending machines? I should have sent food. Of course you weren’t taking care of yourself. You were worried about your brother.”
Elio looks uncertain of how to respond. He rubs the back of his neck, laughing gruffly. “I ate. The food was pretty good too. Not like typical hospital food.”
Noemi wrinkles her brow. “Mama’s right. You’re definitely skinnier.”
“I don’t think I am,” Elio mumbles, looking down at himself.
“Goodness, leave him alone.” Ginevra rolls her eyes. “He’s not a child. He looks the same to me.” She’s her usual blunt self, but the fact she bothered to greet Elio shows me she actually likes him.
Elio turns his head and when he sees me his face changes. The guarded expression he’s worn for weeks, the coolness, the measured distance, all of it is gone. What’s underneath is tired and warm. He’s glad to see me, and he doesn’t bother hiding it.
“Welcome home,” I say huskily, moving toward him.
“Thanks.” His smile is a little on the shy side.
I give him a quick kiss, and Noemi giggles. Mama nods approvingly, and Ginevra makes a gagging sound.
“Get a room,” Ginevra mutters.
“It was just a peck,” I say, stepping back. “It’s been days since I saw him.”
“Whatever.” Ginevra smirks.
“Ignore her, Elio.” Noemi says, giving our older sister a dirty look. “Ginevra hates love.”
“That’s not true,” Ginevra says. “Love is a wonderful thing. For other people.”
“Come with me, Elio,” Mama says, taking hold of Elio’s arm. “I’ve been cooking all day, hoping you’d come home today. Ornella has the day off, so I made ragu that I only make on special occasions.”
“Sounds great.” Elio smiles.
Noemi takes his other arm and the two of them steer him toward the kitchen. I watch them, amused and relieved at how my family has taken to him. They truly seem to care about Elio and that’s more than I could have asked for.
The kitchen is warm with the scent of my mother’s cooking. The deep smell of tomato, pork, and basil filling the room. The broad stone island is covered in dishes. Fresh bread sits on the counter, and there’s a green salad with oil, lemon, and fresh parmesan.
Mama sits Elio down at the kitchen table. “Would you like some wine?” She doesn’t wait for his response, instead giving Noemi a look that sends her to fetch a bottle of red wine.
The kitchen table is set for all of us and we each take a seat. I sit beside Elio because I need to touch him. The minute I sit, I put my hand on his thigh and he smiles at me. I’m so happy he’s not being cold to me anymore, I’m over the moon.
Mama sets large bowls of pasta and salad on the table, along with a basket of fresh bread. We all pile our plates with the delicious food. Even Elio takes a nice large portion, which earns him an approving look from Mama.
Despite saying he’d eaten at the hospital, Elio’s appetite is big.
He answers Noemi and Mama’s questions about Fabio’s condition between bites.
From what Elio is saying, it seems that Fabio is doing fantastic.
It’s a relief because if anything had gone wrong, I’m not sure Elio would have been able to handle it.