Chapter 29
DANTE
Morning light spills through the medical wing blinds, painting everything gold.
I wake in stages. No gasping, no fighting, no clawing my way back from darkness. For the first time in days, the surface finds me on its own.
There’s a warmth against my chest. Real.
Cassia.
She’s curled into my side, her head on my shoulder, one arm draped across my stomach. Her breathing is slow and even. Deep sleep.
She let herself rest at last.
My left arm is dead. Pins and needles from shoulder to fingertips. She’s been lying on it for hours, cutting off circulation, and I couldn’t care less.
I try to shift, to get some blood flowing back. Bad idea. The pins and needles turn to fire. I grit my teeth and stay still.
Worth it.
I remember last night. Asking her to come here. Pulling her onto the narrow hospital bed beside me because I couldn’t stand another minute of watching her fold herself into that chair.
She protested. Said she’d hurt me. Said I needed space to heal.
I told her the only thing I needed was her.
She climbed in with care. Settled against me like she was afraid I’d break. And somewhere in the quiet hours before dawn, we both fell asleep.
Now morning is here. I’m alive. She’s in my arms.
I let myself look at her. Her hair is tangled, escaping from whatever style it started in days ago. Her dress is wrinkled, and there are shadows under her eyes.
Cristo. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
This woman sat in that chair for three days. Held my hand while I coded on the table. Watched the monitors with her lips moving in silent words. Refused to leave even when Gia tried to make her eat, sleep, take care of herself.
She stayed. Through all of it. For me.
My hand moves without permission. Brushes a strand of hair from her face. Traces the curve of her cheek.
She stirs. Makes a small sound. Her eyes flutter open.
She just looks at me. Confused. Then awareness floods in and her whole face changes. Her lips part. Her hand flies to my chest like she needs to check I’m still breathing.
“Hi.” Rough with sleep.
“Hi.”
She blinks. Takes stock of herself. I watch the self-consciousness creep in. She pulls back. Touches her hair. Grimaces.
“Oh God. I must look terrible. I should go clean up before—”
I catch her hand before she can pull away.
“Stay.”
“Dante—”
“Cassia.” I tug her closer. Cup her face in my hands. Make her look at me. “You sat beside me for three days. You didn’t leave.” My thumb traces her cheekbone. “Stay. Please.”
Her eyes fill. She laughs. Wet and broken and beautiful.
“Okay.”
The word hangs between us.
I said I loved her last night. Meant it. Mean it now. The confession is still in the air, still settling into the spaces between us.
She goes still in my arms. Her chin lifts. A decision settling into the set of her jaw.
“I need to tell you something.” Quiet. Steady.
I wait.
She sits up. Takes my hand. Presses it against her chest, over her heart. I feel it pounding beneath my palm. Fast and hard.
Her lips move. No sound comes out.
She closes her eyes. I watch her throat work, watch her lips shape silent numbers. Steadying herself the way she always does when everything gets too loud.
Cazzo. My ribs wrench apart watching her fight for the words.
“I love you, Dante.”
Four words. Her voice breaks on every one of them.
That’s it. That’s all she says, and the room tilts sideways. My vision blurs. Something detonates behind my ribs, warm and devastating, and I can’t fucking breathe.
Her tears spill over, tracking down her cheeks. She’s shaking. Her hand squeezes mine so hard her knuckles go white.
“I tried to wait.” A shaky laugh that sounds more like a sob. “I was going to find the right moment. Say it when I wasn’t a mess.” She shakes her head. “But I woke up and you were here. Alive. And I nearly lost you without ever—”
Her voice gives out.
Dio. My eyes are burning.
“You saw me.” She presses my hand harder against her sternum. “Nobody ever saw me before you.”
One line. Simple. The kind of truth that doesn’t need decoration.
I can’t speak. My throat is locked shut. Eleven years of keeping everyone out, and this woman just kicked the door down with four words and a shaking voice.
So I pull her down and kiss her.
Not like last night. Not hungry or desperate. This is something else. The kind of kiss that seals a wound closed. Her tears are wet against my cheeks. Or maybe they’re mine. Fuck. I can’t tell anymore.
When we break apart, I keep her close. Keep her forehead pressed to mine. Keep my hands on her face.
“Marry me again.”
She pulls back. Blinks. “We’re already married.”
“I know.” My voice comes out wrecked. “That was a contract. I want it to be real.”
She waits. Listening. Her pulse hammering against my fingertips where they rest on her neck.
“I want you to stand in front of my family and say yes because you want to. Not because you had to.”
Cristo. My hands are shaking. The Don of New Orleans, trembling like a kid asking a girl to prom. If Nico could see me right now, he’d never let me live it down.
Her chin lifts. Her jaw sets.
“Yes.”
One word. No hesitation. Fierce and certain and so goddamn steady it wrecks me.
“Cassia—”
“You heard me.” She takes my face in her hands. Her thumbs brush the dampness off my cheeks. “Yes. In front of your family. In front of God. In front of anyone who asks.”
I kiss her again. Slower. Pouring everything into it because the words aren’t enough. They’ll never be enough.
When we separate, she settles against my chest. Her head on my shoulder. Her hand over my heart.
The bed creaks. It’s not designed for two people. My IV line is tangled somewhere under her elbow, and I’m losing feeling in my leg now too.
I don’t mention it.
“So.” Lighter now. A smile in every syllable. “When’s the wedding?”
I laugh. It hurts. My ribs protest. Worth it.
“Soon. As soon as I can stand at an altar without collapsing.”
“That could take a while.”
“Careful. I might take that as a challenge.”
She laughs too. Warm against my chest.
“Nico will give a toast that makes everyone uncomfortable,” I tell her. “Marco will pretend he’s not emotional. Renzo will stand next to me and say nothing, which is how I’ll know he’s happy.”
“And Gia?”
“Gia will check my vitals before the ceremony and lecture me about overexertion during the reception.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Yeah?”
She lifts her head. Looks at me with those eyes that have seen me from the beginning. That saw through the Don to the man underneath.
“It’s been a yes since the moment you asked.”
She presses a kiss to my chest, right over my heart.
I tug her back down. We lie there in the morning light, tangled together in a hospital bed that’s too small for two people.
The Benedettis are still out there. War is still coming. There are questions that need answers, plans that need making, a family that needs leading.
But right now, with her heartbeat against my side and her hand warm on my chest, none of that touches me.
Minutes pass. The light shifts. The monitors beep their steady rhythm.
“I should clean up,” she murmurs. “Before your sister comes in and lectures us both.”
“Probably.”
Neither of us moves.
“Five more minutes,” she says.
I tug her closer. My lips find her hair.
She shifts against me and my dead arm screams back to life. Thousands of tiny needles stabbing from shoulder to wrist.
I must have made a sound because she freezes.
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“My arm fell asleep three hours ago.”
“What?” She scrambles up. “Dante! Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because you were sleeping on it.” I flex my fingers, wincing as the blood rushes back. “And I wasn’t about to wake you up.”
She stares at me. “You let your arm go numb for three hours?”
“I’d let it fall off if it meant keeping you close.”
She shakes her head. “That’s either the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me, or you need serious help.”
“Probably both.”
She laughs. The sound fills the room, fills my chest, fills all the empty spaces I didn’t know existed.
Then she climbs out of bed. Stretching muscles that have been cramped in chairs and hospital beds for too long.
At the door, she turns back. Looks at me.
“Don’t go anywhere.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I flex my tingling fingers. “Couldn’t if I tried. I think my whole left side is dead now.”
She grins. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” The words come out easier now. Like breathing.
She smiles. The kind that transforms her whole face. The kind I want to spend the rest of my life earning.
Then she’s gone, off to wash away three days of exhaustion.
I watch the empty doorway. Listen to her footsteps fade.
The medical wing is quiet. Morning light. Monitors beeping. The hum of machines that kept me alive long enough to get here.
I’m going to marry her. For real this time. Rings. Vows. Nonna Rosa crying in the front row.
Cazzo.
I’ll cry too. And if anyone says a word about it, I’ll put them in the ground.
I shut my eyes. Let the warmth of the morning sun wash over me. Flex my dead arm and grin like an idiot.
She loves me. And my whole left side is numb.
Worth it.