Chapter 25 – Penelope
“ I want the doctor to look at you,” Mancini barked as we moved through the front door.
Ignoring him, I marched to the kitchen. I’d tried to hide the injury. I hadn’t wanted to have the don fuss over me in the aftermath that ensued.
There was no fooling him.
“I’m fine, Mancini,” I snapped as he stomped into the mansion’s kitchen behind me. “I’ve been kicked by our hinny and thrown from more horses than I care to remember.”
The mobster paused beside the island, bracing his hands against the side and breathing hard.
Too hard.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
Space, I needed space. Today had been too much. The kisses, both on the mouth and the ones between my legs, were threatening to mess with my head. Part of me wanted to give in. My brain was tricked into believing he wasn’t a complete monster. Hell, I felt my resolve disappearing as we spoke! There was no way I found this violent beast attractive.
My pussy clenched in protest.
Okay, yes, he would be a fantastic lover. But at what cost! The deeper I entrenched myself with this life, the harder it would be to escape. Besides, one look at Mancini and it was obvious he wasn’t the kind of man who was capable of love and devotion.
He’s a protector. A provider too.
I took the frozen veggies out and lifted my tee and placed them against the skin.
“What’s a hinny?” he croaked.
I snorted. Because right now, this stubborn man wore the same look as that cranky little snowball I bottle-raised.
“The dad was a stallion and the mom a donkey,” I explained.
“A mule.”
I smiled, shifting the veggies higher. “No, that’s a dad donkey and a mom horse. Both are technically sterile, though. They don’t make their own breed of babies. I did a science project on them in high school. Won top prize at the county fair.”
Jeeze, could I sound anymore small town than talking about sperm quality on farm animals?
Mancini cleared his throat—twice. “What if the rib is broken?”
I shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Penelope—”
“Fine, bring the doctor, but I want him to give you an exam too.” I planted my other hand on my hip and stared the mobster down.
His metaphorical hackles raised. “What for? I didn’t get hurt.”
“But you’re getting a cold,” I countered, enjoying the shock that flashed through his unguarded gaze.
His protest would have been more convincing if he didn’t have to wrestle the frog from his throat to speak. “I most certainly am not. Made Men don’t get sick.”
“Mmhm, pretty sure humans do. So unless you’re confirming that you’re an ice planet barbarian in disguise, Mr. Polar Vortex, I think you’re coming down with something.” As I spoke, I stalked him around the island. He looked warily at my hand, which I slapped on his forehead.
Hot—very hot.
I knew he felt unusually warm . Earlier, I’d chalked it up to the passion of the kiss.
The don jerked away. “I haven’t been sick since I was a child.”
“Good for you. But your body begs to differ.” I took the veggies from my side and slapped them on his neck. “You should go lie down.”
“Not happening.”
“Then so be it,” I sighed. “I’m going to hunt up some Epsom salts and soak in the tub before I spend the afternoon on the couch with a heating pad and ice alternatively. If you send a doctor in here, I’ll raise Cain until he sees you too.”
The impressed look on the mobster’s face did things to me. He clearly wasn’t used to this level of defiance, and I secretly was enjoying pushing his buttons.
“I’m not seeing a doctor,” Mancini insisted.
“Act tough, just like every other man on the planet! When the sickness takes you down, don’t cry to me,” I called over my shoulder, leaving the kitchen.
“Stubborn woman!” he shouted after me.
“Impossible man!” Smirking, I went to take care of myself.
Lost in a book, cozy on the couch, it was well after eleven at night when a noise deeper in the house drew my attention.
I crept down the hall and poked my head into the dark kitchen. The don was back and sat at the island looking like death. His fingers played with a tumbler of whiskey, but it looked untouched. Dante spoke rapidly in Italian. Something about image and strength.
Tiptoeing forward, neither man noticed I was there until I popped to my husband’s side. Dante jumped—actually jumped—and garbled a string of curses. It was sweet payback for the death eater interrupting my run.
Only then I remembered Mancini’s threat because Dante touched me. I frowned, hoping the don hadn’t actually hurt one of his men for following an order. That would be insane, even for the beast I’d married.
“You don’t sneak up on Made Men, sweetheart,” Dante barked.
“Dante!” Mancini scowled at him, but the effect was lost because of the hoarse quality of his voice and the putrid color of his face. “That’s my wife. Watch how you speak to her.”
I pressed the back of my hand against Mancini’s cheek. “You’re burning up, Mr. Don.”
His gaze swung to me, and lost was the powerful frigid quality. “I’m fine.”
“He fainted,” Dante snapped.
“Dante.” That one word packed a violent weight.
The number two didn’t take the warning. “He did. Passed out in the middle of a negotiation.”
“I’m fine!” Mancini shot to his feet but leaned heavily against the counter a second later.
Turning to Dante, I clasped my hands in front of me. “I wonder if you would be so kind as to run to the store for me? Since I’m new to town, I’m not sure where to go.”
The scary man arched a brow. “I’m not a personal shopper, sweetheart.”
“And I’m not your anything. No…wait.” I gave him a sardonic smile. “I’m your don’s wife. And I need you to run an errand for me. So you’re going to give me your phone number. I’ll text you a list. You’ll go to the store to get me what I need, and you’re going to do it with a fucking smile on your face. Capisc?”
“ Capisce ,” he corrected.
“I know that, dumbass. But that’s how we say it in America.” I tugged the don’s arm, wondering how the hell I was going to carry him up the stairs with my incredibly sore side. But like every other male across the species, he was too damn stubborn to admit his condition in front of another.
I began to rattle off my cell, but the death eater cut me off.
“I have your number,” Dante said tightly.
Of course he did. I pushed down the feeling of annoyance. It could always be worse. Poppy had said that she expected her phone to be monitored. At least there’d been no mention of my apps turned off or my accounts banned. The breech of privacy wasn’t the point right now, but I would bring up the fact that someone had my number without my permission at another time.
“Good. Now hurry,” I snapped, tugging the swaying mob leader toward our bedroom.
It took ten minutes to reach the space. I ordered the don to strip and climb straight into bed as I began to tap out a list. We needed vitamin D3 with K, a zinc and vitamin C pack, and organic kombucha amongst other things. I also told the number two to pick me up an Ace bandage.
“If you wanted to get me into bed, all you had to do was say so, vespina.”
I looked up from my phone. “Did you just…make a joke?”
“I’m capable of more than you think, including the occasional joke,” he muttered before coughing again.
Going to the bathroom for the bottle of over-the-counter pain pills and a wet cloth, I returned. “You should have stayed home this evening.”
With an angry huff, he rolled over. “I’m fine now. Just let me sleep this off.”
Staring at the ceiling, I let out a strangled breath. “A cold is not a weakness! Shit happens, Mancini.”
He didn’t respond.
What a big, fussy baby. “Are you going to take these?”
“No.”
“Alright then.” I sent a second message to Dante, telling him to leave the purchases in the kitchen. Being nice to the don was a quid-pro-quo. We had to coexist in this close proximity, so it wouldn’t kill me to take care of him.
What surprised me was how easy it was.
That was not something I was prepared to deal with. So instead, I shut off the overhead light and moved to the far side of the bed to slip under the covers.
Mancini’s voice broke through the dark. “You’re joining me?”
I sighed. “The floor isn’t an option with my ribs. Looks like we’re stuck together.”
He hummed roughly. “What an interesting turn of events.”
“Indeed.” It took a half-hour of shallow box breathing before I was able to quiet my mind enough to fall asleep—where I began to dream about being kissed by a monster.