50. Massimo
Chapter fifty
Massimo
I ’m overly keen on finishing what Alessia and I started back in that room.
Especially as we pick off the rest of the Russian bastards that captured and tortured me. To watch Alessia in action with her slicked-back ponytail and combat gear, looking like a modern-day Viking, I’m not a mess inside with worry over her safety like I thought I’d be. I somehow fall for her all over again. She’s fucking fearless.
We end up gathered in one area once all the gunfire has died down. “Happy they didn’t kill you, fratello .” Brother . Ezzo pats me on the back.
“Nice ponytail,” Armando teases, making others chuckle.
I smirk down at Alessia, and she reaches up to toy with some of my hair left down. “I think it’s sexy.” She grins.
A rumbling noise sounds in the back of my throat as I take her around the waist. “Sexy, huh?”
“Very,” she purrs and slides her hands up and around my neck, giving my hair a little tug.
“So, I assume you two have finally kissed and made up?” Tullio asks.
“More like calling a truce,” she responds without taking her eyes away from me.
I pick her up off her feet, and she wraps herself around me. Her brothers all begin to protest, but we tune them out as I pin her against the wall. The rest of the world seems to melt away, and we’re caught up in our own little reality. I stroke her face in disbelief that she’s really here. I thought I was going to die today. I thought I had reached my limit, and everything had finally caught up to me, with this being my only contrition.
“You didn’t leave me to die,” I murmur with no seriousness.
“I didn’t.” Her eyes dart all over my face and I can only imagine what she sees. “Sorry for getting you into this mess.” Her mutter is hardly audible.
If I could move my eyebrows right now, they’d jump up in shock. Though it was a half-assed apology, Alessia does not apologize. So, when she does, she means it wholeheartedly.
“But if you ever do that to me again, I will feed you your own dick.” Our lips come together as I chuckle, but all humor quickly fades when I have to pull away due to the pain it causes me. “Let’s go get these stitches out of you,” she says softly as she strokes my cheek amorously. I’ve longed for this softer side of her.
“ Sposami, amore mio .” Her face drops completely as she studies me for a long moment. “Tomorrow.”
Her eyes narrow. “You still have a long way to go, De Luca.” Then her face softens with a smile. “Plus, I want a wedding, which could not be put together in one day.
“I want you as my wife.”
“I want the dress,” she retorts quickly.
“You have the dress.”
“I want the flowers and music and chapel and everything. I want it all.”
I’m quiet as I admire her beauty and defiance. “A week.”
Her green eyes widen and her luscious lips part. “A year,” she finally counters with.
“Two weeks.”
“Two years,” she says with an eyebrow arched and I full-on laugh.
I missed her so fucking much. “This is the one and only time I’ll do this. You have six months.” She grins in victory. “But we sign the marriage license in one week.”
“Massimo Antonio De Luca. You—”
I cut her off with a kiss that is too painful to deepen. “I love ruffling those pretty feathers of yours,” I murmur against her lips.
“And I’ll admit I love it when you ruffle them.” She kisses my cheek. “Can we go home now? I fucking hate Russia.”
“You and me both, baby.”
Alessia isn’t parted from my side the entire journey back to the airstrip where both planes are waiting. As soon as I take a step outside the vehicle, Vinny comes rushing towards me despite all his obvious injuries. The guy has been through it over the last several weeks. “Oh, thank fuck.” Then his eyes widen when he gets a good look at me. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah, holy shit,” I mutter.
Alessia saw me trying to pull some of the stitches around my mouth out myself and chastised me before grabbing her brother. So, Santino joins us on my plane for the ride home.
Fucking sewed my mouth shut. I’m almost impressed by their level of sinisterness.
Once we’re up in the air, Santino sets up the medical supplies. “You’re going to have some gnarly scars,” he murmurs as he cleans the area first.
“Chicks dig scars,” Alessia says with a sliver of enthusiasm.
“ You dig scars, Less. Little psycho,” Santino teases though he’s serious. I eye her and she shrugs her shoulders totally unoffended.
“Alright. Now, stay still for me,” Santino says, and I close my eyes purely from exhaustion. The adrenaline has been slowly leaking from me draining me of energy and causing my other injuries to throb.
The stitches definitely do not feel good coming out, but a hell of a lot better than going in. It’s not like they numbed me or carefully did them. They made sure it fucking hurt.
“And…done,” he says several minutes later, and I feel something soft pressed to my mouth. Opening my eyes, I find an angel smiling as she holds some gauze against me. “Now, what else needs urgent attention other than your eye that has doubled in size?”
My hand is obviously broken, which will have to wait for x-raying after we land, but he was able to stitch up the gash on the back of my head and another one on my chest. Not much else he could do, though, for the bruising and broken ribs that will also need to be x-rayed other than give me ice to help manage the swelling.
Santino says he’ll be back with some ice packs and I lift my hand up in gratitude as Alessia verbally thanks him. He nods his head and disappears to sit somewhere else, giving us privacy.
“Well, it doesn’t seem like your lips are bleeding too badly.” She lifts the gauze then cringes before putting it back. “Maybe not.” I drop my head back, and my eyelids feel heavy with a crushing weight of fatigue. “Let’s lean you back, baby.” She leans across me and hits the button to recline my seat. “I’m going to go help Santino get you some ice and make sure to get you some water and painkillers.” I nod my head in response. “I’ll be right back. Hold onto this.” She lifts my hand to replace hers and then kisses my cheek before getting up.
My mind practically goes numb from overwhelming exhaustion. The only energy I have is to think about the fact that I’m alive.
“Alright, pain killers, water, and a shit ton of ice,” she says when she comes back. “Here.” She uncaps the bottle of water and hands it to me along with the pills. “Shit. You definitely need new gauze.” She takes the soiled stuff from me while I drink and she replaces some clean ones in my hand and I rest my head back down.
We’re both quiet as she begins sticking ice packs around me. One to my side with noticeably broken ribs, a couple of others in my torso where I’m black and blue, and one to my knee even though I haven’t said a word about it—she must’ve noticed me slightly limping.
“I’m going to hold this icepack on your eye for a little while.” I’m hardly able to nod my head as my eyelids finally succumb to fatigue and droop shut.
The ice pack is placed gently over my eye, and I’m out.