Chapter 11
Sleep…doesn’t exist for me anymore. The nightmares of my own making hold me hostage. Hence, being in the kitchen so early in the morning. At least it gives me time to cook, which is something I haven’t done in years, although the memories of my aunt teaching me haven’t left. Fuck, I miss her.
Still, as I slide the perfectly done frittata out of the skillet, a proud smile stretches across my face.
It's odd, this sense of lightness. I add the frittata to the cart, along with coffee, orange juice, and the basket of pastries that the chef thrust at me. Frowning, I barely have a moment to even think about what I’m missing before someone adds silverware, plates, and napkins.
I struggle not to blush at missing something so obvious, before thanking them all.
The kitchen grinds to a halt as they glance between each other and me.
My shoulders twitch and rise defensively, but I ignore it, forcing myself to relax.
I go to push the cart forward, but a maid quickly steps in, taking charge.
Swallowing a sigh, I follow along. I’m lucky they even allowed me to work in the kitchen while I’m still recovering.
But…I needed to do something. And I’ve certainly rested enough.
I’m finally working with PT, and this is good exercise, as long as I don’t overdo it.
Jayden is cold, but effective. Being treated like a social pariah is…
exhausting. Not that I don’t deserve it, but I worry, especially for Cristian.
There’s only so much of being tossed carelessly aside that a person can take.
While I’m fine with the treatment, especially as most of my Boys are still warm toward me, Cristian has nobody.
When we stop in front of the room Lio is currently staying in, I tell the maid thanks before knocking gently on the partially opened door.
I take a deep breath and wait, my heart beating in time with the fear running through my veins.
There is a terror that will always live in me during these moments…
the moments when I’m not sure whether my love will recognize me again.
I’ve grown, and so has he, but fuck, it doesn’t change a damn thing for me.
I still love him as desperately as always.
Watching him become who he was always meant to be? It's priceless. And even if I have to exist on the edges of his reality, haunting this mansion like a wraith, just to be within range of him, that’s what I’ll do.
I know the Amatos hate me, and I accept that.
They certainly don’t trust me, and really, they can join the club—I fucking founded it.
But what they don’t see is how much more meaning my life has now.
They see me as nothing because I lost my title as Il Padrone…
Whereas I see myself as being set free. And this?
This is the first step in showing Emilio who I truly am now, and it’ll be up to him to accept it—or to turn me away.
It may kill me if he does, but I’ll walk away if that’s what he wants. If that’s what he needs. But I’ll always be here for him, waiting, because my life is tied to his. My soul will be bound to the man who puts me to shame—forever.
“Come in,” Emilio’s voice beckons groggily, and I take a deep breath, opening the door all the way as I walk in pushing the cart.
I smile at him and Roman, both sitting in the same bed, despite there now being two in the room. “Breakfast delivery for you both.”
Emilio draws in a deep breath and shyly returns the smile I give him, before narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Wait. I know that smell. I swear, that chef better not be here…”
I laugh, and both Emilio and Roman’s eyes widen at the sound. Feeling lighter than ever, I start to pour coffee and juice, and then plate the dishes. Shaking my head, I hand Emilio a cup of coffee first.
“No, Caro. I made your favorite frittata. It’s actually my aunt’s recipe, may she rest in peace. And yes, of course, I added extra mushrooms and the good bacon. I’m the one who taught the recipe to the chef.
“This morning, the kitchen staff kindly let me play around and make you both breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you enjoy eating, Roman, but there is a basket of pastries as well. And if none of that sounds good, I can make you something else.”
Roman blinks at me, seemingly overwhelmed, before managing a tired grin. “It seems wonderful. I’m not sure how much I can eat, but I’ll try some.”
I barely stifle the relief running through me. I’m not his favorite person—and I doubt I ever will be—but I’m so glad I can do something for him. Especially with how much he does for my love.
Turning my attention back to Emilio, I sit next to the bed, watching him carefully as he eats.
It’s such a simple yet fulfilling pleasure.
I can see why Zia Gia always loved to cook for people.
It fulfills the need in me to take care of others.
To nourish them. I may have fucked up with how I tried to help in the past, but this?
This I can do, especially based on the happy sounds Lio makes when he's eating.
While they both eat breakfast, things are quiet.
I’m happy to see that while Roman ate less than Emilio, he still had a fairly healthy appetite.
Although, he definitely doesn’t seem as addicted to coffee as my Caro.
With a satisfied sigh, Emilio sets his plate to the side, still guarding his cup of coffee, and I point to the carafe, silently asking if he’d like more.
At his pleased nod, I give him a refill before returning to my seat.
Humming as he takes a sip, his eyes fall closed in enjoyment. I can’t hide my happiness, even if it’s over something as silly as making him coffee. With a quiet sigh, though, I know I need to start asking the tough questions, even if I don’t want to.
Clearing my throat, I get Lio's attention. He opens his eyes and looks at me steadily. My heart thumps with the knowledge that I’m going to take away his smile, but I need answers, and he’s the only one who can give them to me.
The only consolation I have is that it will make things better in the long run.
“Caro, I need you to tell me what happened there at the end, yesterday.”
His moss green eyes lose their shine and he shudders, instinctively leaning into Roman, who glares at me.
I stay silent, accepting the accusatory glare without a word.
He could flay me to pieces and it wouldn’t matter to me.
At the end of the day, Emilio’s happiness is most vital—even if it means he has to face what happened.
“I…I lost my temper.”
“Rightfully! He was defending me!” Roman hisses, fury rolling off him as he sneers at me.
I nod toward him in understanding. “I don’t blame Emilio at all for it. Hell, if I could, I’d bring Stanley back to life so we can kill him again—even slower this time. But that’s not what I meant. I need to know what Emilio felt. In that moment, and then right after.”
Emilio swallows and shifts uncomfortably under my studying gaze, but I know there’s something off. He just has to decide whether he trusts me enough to tell me, or not.
He grimaces, but he takes a bracing breath before releasing it slowly.
“I’m…not too sure. When it was happening, it felt great—normal.
The anger, fury, all of it. But when you held me back…
at first, there was comfort, and then, well, nothing.
It’s like I lost myself. My emotions were cut off.
Numb. And I was left drifting. Alone. Again. ”
Tears choke him, and my own throat burns with the need to let go of the feelings of powerlessness and fear that race through me. Still, I hold them back. He's all that matters now. Not me. Not my needs. And this is my chance to prove it.
“Emilio, it’s alright. I promise. We’ll get through this. All of us, together. Thank you though, for telling me.”
“You…you don’t hate me?” he whispers, and I shake my head.
“Never, Caro. That’ll never, ever happen. I love you, and no matter what, I will be here.”
He sits up straight and holds out his open hands. Taking the cue, I stand up and grab him fiercely, hugging him tight enough to really feel it. I know that numbness…that coldness. He’s right to be concerned. And now? I’m the only one here who knows how to handle it with him.
When I let him go—which is a struggle—I retake my seat and move on to other subjects, but nothing stressful. Once the conversation dies down and Emilio yawns, I stand, putting everything back onto the cart. Walking over to him, I brush a kiss across his forehead and give Roman a tight smile.
“Get some rest. I’ll check on you both later, alright?”
“Yes, Master,” Emilio murmurs groggily, as he begins to fall asleep. Roman doesn’t fall that quickly, and instead, gives me a warning glance that I know to take seriously. Still, I wait until he’s comfortable before I leave the room.
Thankfully, there’s a medical professional right outside already. Catching his attention, I ask, “Will you keep an eye on them?”
He waves an acknowledgment, and I struggle not to sigh.
I’m back to being a ghost—and not like Antonio.
Instead, I'm the one that's shifted aside, to be ignored and barely tolerated. After the sunshine of my Emilio, this is difficult for me. But I square my shoulders, knowing this is the price I need to pay. For now, though…I need to do one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.
I walk the halls quietly before stopping in front of Javi’s door.
Raising my hand, I knock. And then, I wait.
I swallow hard, trying to hide my shaking hands.
It may be a flat no, but fuck, I have to try.
If I can ease Emilio’s pain, even a little, then that’s what I’ll do.
Fuck what anyone else thinks; he’s the only thing that matters to me—exactly how it should be.
“Enter,” says the deep voice, and I straighten my shoulders as I try to prepare myself. It’s time to face whether my idea will work or not. And fuck, I hope Javi is the kind of man who truly understands what people need. My Emilio deserves that.