Chapter 7
SEVEN
Violetta
When Damiano leaves, I huff out a breath of relief. Though he didn't raise his voice or show any outward sign of anger, I sensed it bubbling beneath the surface of his calm exterior.
The man's control is as impressive as it is terrifying. I can't help wondering what will happen if it snaps. I don't want to be the one standing in front of him when it happens.
I take another look at Lorenzo Volante. I don't know him, but I've seen him at the club.
He's a walking violation of our strict dress code.
A complete contrast to his older brother, Lorenzo goes for that just-tumbled-out-of-bed look with messy brown hair and stubble.
He's always in jeans and a battered brown leather jacket.
He must have some sentimental attachment to the thing because he doesn't lack the money to buy a new one.
A born charmer, he's popular with the club's female clientele. One night he bought roses for every woman in the lounge. The other men hated him for that.
It's unsettling to see him lying there so still. Men like Lorenzo are meant to be unbreakable.
The tall, pretty brunette who witnessed that brutal exchange between Damiano and me steps forward.
She's dressed beautifully, but her hair is messy and her makeup smeared.
It's obvious she's been through a lot today.
She runs her hand across Lorenzo's brow, the action seeming to soothe herself as much as him.
"Are you his girlfriend?" I ask.
"Hell, no." She laughs as if my question is ridiculous. "I'm their cousin, Olivia Volante." She turns and pins me with a curious stare. "And who are you?"
"Violetta Caruso. I work for Damiano."
"Oh, where?"
"La Stanza Rossa."
Olivia nods. "I've been trying to get Damiano to take me there, but he's being a jackass about it." She tilts her head to the side as she studies me. "Why does Damiano think you're responsible for what happened at the church?"
I hesitate, unsure how she'll react to the truth. I take a deep breath and give her a condensed version of the story.
"The security team at the club had a man locked in a storeroom. I heard him crying out in pain, so I helped him escape."
"Right, and then he attacked us at the church."
"So it seems."
"But you knew nothing about that?"
"No. I didn't even know the man. I just felt bad for him."
"Hmm." Olivia is as inscrutable as her cousin. "I get why Damiano's pissed."
"Yes." Now I've seen the state his brother's in, I understand the anger.
"Why did he bring you here?"
"I don't know." Perhaps at some point Damiano will share his reasoning with me. I nod toward Lorenzo, who has a line of stitches on his forehead.
"What happened exactly?"
"He got in the way of a bullet."
"Fuck!" My heart lurches. I know the world Damiano inhabits is dangerous, but the idea of people shooting at each other has always been an abstract one. Seeing the result of it shocks me to the core. "That's…."
"I know," Olivia says when I can't find the right word. "It's scary."
"Was anyone else hurt?"
Olivia nods.
"But we were lucky. It was my brother's wedding and he and Giulia were just walking back up the aisle when the shooting started. They escaped unhurt."
I hadn't known until now that it was Giulia's wedding. A weight presses down on me as I realize I must have misread the whole situation at the club. Adamo Gianotti must have posed some threat to Giulia for Damiano to react the way he did.
The fact he was involved in an attack on her wedding proves I made a horrible mistake. One that can't be undone.
"Sounds like a mess."
"My family's been through worse." Olivia offers me a reassuring smile. "You should go. If Damiano comes back, I doubt his mood will be any better."
Taking her advice, I return to my room. I scoff at myself for calling it that. It's not as if I have a place here among people whose lifestyle I want no part of. I get into bed, but I can't settle.
Even when I work late at the club, I need to read for a while before I sleep. I hate that my phone hasn't been brought to me. It has my favorite reading app on it.
I wouldn't be able to focus on a book right now anyway. My mind churns with thoughts pulling between optimism that my being here means Damiano won't hurt me and fear that he's just biding his time.
Not knowing what Damiano is planning is driving me to distraction. Before I can change my mind, I get out of bed, slip out into the corridor, and walk next door to Damiano's room. I knock once, but there's no answer, so I try again.
"Come in," he calls.
I push the door open to find him standing in the center of the room, a towel wrapped low around his hips. His hair is wet from the shower and water traces thin lines down his muscular chest. There's tension in his stance, and something about the way he holds his right arm tells me he's hurt.
"What do you want, Violetta?" He doesn't sound angry that I'm there, but he's not a man who expresses emotion.
"To apologize. I didn't know what sort of man Gianotti was."
Damiano says nothing. Perhaps he wants me to grovel, but I can't bring myself to do that. I doubt he'd respect me for it anyway. He pulls back his shoulders and winces.
"Are you okay?" I don't know why I give a damn.
"My shoulder was dislocated." He surprises me by sharing. Men like him don’t usually let you know they’re vulnerable, even accidentally
"Sounds painful."
He gives a short, humorless laugh. "It's nothing."
Of course, I forgot. He's the manly type who laughs off pain. I manage not to roll my eyes.
Silence stretches into something uncomfortable between us, a strange awareness that doesn't need words. A tingle runs through me.
I should leave but find myself frozen to the spot, staring at his incredible physique. He's muscular without being bulky. His chest has a light dusting of hair and he has a single tattoo over his heart.
It's a letter V with wings sprouting from it, symbolizing his name, I suppose. It’s also my initial but there’s no way the tattoo could be for me.
When I realize I'm openly ogling him, I avert my eyes.
"I should go." My feet stay rooted to the spot.
"Don't you want to know why I brought you here?"
"Of course, but…" The intensity in his gaze makes me uncomfortably hot. "It can wait until morning."
"No, dolcezza, I don't think it can.”
I shuffle nervously from one foot to the other. "What do you want from me?"
"Everything."
His eyes bore into me relentlessly.
"Everything?" I swallow hard.
"Your body, your mind, your soul." His lips twitch as panic rears its head inside me. "But until I can possess those, I will accept marriage."
For a moment I'm sure I misheard. Marriage? I stand there like an idiot with my mouth hanging open. "What?"
"You. Will. Marry. Me." He enunciates each word slowly.
A laugh bursts out of me, sharp and disbelieving.
"That's not funny."
"I'm not joking."
"You seriously expect me to believe you kidnapped me, accused me of betrayal and now you want to marry me?"
"I didn't kidnap you." His voice lowers. "I protected you from your own foolishness and I will continue to do so."
There's not a glimmer of amusement on his face, but I still can't believe he means what he's saying.
"I don't understand this. Why would you want to marry me?"
"I need to think about the future. It's time for me to settle down and raise a family."
My throat tightens. "You want children?"
"Eventually."
This is nuts. "Why me?"
"You're a beautiful, intelligent woman, Violetta.
A little too compassionate for your own good, but we can work on that.
" He presses his lips together and studies my face as if he's weighing whether to say more.
"And there is also a piece of land my brother wants.
Your grandfather owns it and will only sell once you're safely married. "
I was shocked before, but now I'm totally confused. Assuming he's talking about my paternal grandfather because my other one doesn't have two euros to rub together, this makes no sense. I've never met the man. As far as I know, I've never been in the same room as him.
"My father never claimed me." It's a bitter truth to admit. "I don't know my grandfather."
"Perhaps not, but he's been watching you."
"What? That's crazy. Why would he…." I trail off mid-question. That's for my grandfather to answer, not Damiano.
"You can't expect me to marry you just so your brother can get a piece of land."
"I've already told you the other reasons."
My mind is swirling. "Do you even like me?"
"What has liking you got to do with it?" The casual way he throws out the question hurts more than I care to admit. "You're suitable and thanks to your interference you're in a tight spot. This gets you out of it."
Suddenly the light in the room feels too bright, like a precursor to a migraine. I clench my fists to keep my fingers from trembling. Damiano is serious about this, and I don't want to think about what he'll do if I refuse. I rub my temples.
"Well, how would it work? You said children, so I assume you expect a real marriage."
Damiano inclines his head. "I only intend to marry once and my wife will bear my children."
This is so much to take in. I've only ever thought of having children as something that might happen in the future. I've never factored in the possibility of raising them in a loveless marriage to a mob boss.
As the threat of a headache subsides, I find myself wishing it wouldn't. Losing all sense of time and place would be useful right now, but migraines are a rare occurrence for me and I can't summon them at will.
"So you would want to…." There's no way I can ask him outright about what he'd expect in a physical sense.
"You're an attractive woman, Violetta. Fucking you won't be a hardship."
"And they say romance is dead," I huff. Damiano's lips twitch. "So what would I get out of this marriage?"
"Protection. Influence. Access to my money."
My jaw clenches. "I'm not a whore."