Chapter 30 Dom
DOM
I’m in heaven.
An angel hovers over me, a thoughtful look etched into her beautiful face.
The first thing I do is laugh.
The angel frowns.
Heaven? Me? Saint Peter must be a shitty sort of clerk to let an undeserving bastard like me in. Good things really do happen to bad people.
With honey blonde hair brushing against her shoulders, the angel floats to my side.
She looks exhausted. A twinge of worry touches me.
Maybe this is hell.
“Dom?” she asks uncertainly.
My memories come crashing into me with the force of a semi-truck.
“You have to get out of here, now,” I croak, sitting up. “The cops, they—”
“Look who’s awake,” a quiet voice says.
I take in my surroundings. I’m on a flimsy bed with thin cotton sheets. Beeping monitors circle me. How did I get into a hospital?
In his winter coat, Salvatore Luporini looks like a great black bat that fell into the armchair opposite my bed. He rakes a hand through his hair and blows out a sigh.
“Where are we?” I ask.
Turi doesn’t bother standing from his chair, the lazy bastard. He waves a hand. “The hospital, obviously.”
Jackass.
“That little wife of yours somehow got you to the ER. Set off about a hundred different alerts of mine. I paid a small fortune to have men go out and do a discreet cleaning of the huge fucking mess you made,” he says without heat.
He stifles a yawn. “I had you sent to Chicago after you were stable. Doctors said you barely made it.”
I glance out the window of my room’s door and spot the back of Eduardo’s head. Then to Turi and Annetta.
“So, I’m not in trouble?”
Turi scoffs. “If by ‘not in trouble’ you mean I’m going to have you do the most disgusting grunt work imaginable until I feel better about the mess you made, then yes.”
I set that aside. Turi thinks touching a public doorknob is disgusting, so we have vastly different ideas on the subject. “What about the Chiarellis?”
“Dead. All of them.”
“And the Commission just accepted that?”
Turi frowns. “I had to pull quite a few strings. Nico and Valeria will be married immediately—”
“Valeria?” Annetta blurts out.
Turi’s gaze cuts to her.
“I… I didn’t think they even knew each other.”
“Yes, well, somehow seeing Aceto on the verge of death stoked the flames of Nico’s desire for his absent daughter.
” He pauses, as though waiting for Annetta to object, but she chews on the news in silence.
“Nico’s marriage will be good for our relations with New York.
We’re also in negotiations to marry off Carlo.
And the old Chiarelli don in jail—he’s been taken care of.
” He sighs. “The Commission was happy enough to promote one of the Florida capos as the new, loyal leadership in place of the Chiarellis. One who will happily lick their boots and won’t encourage the skin trade like the old dynasty. ”
I lean back in my shitty hospital bed, feeling lighter than I have in months.
I reach for Annetta’s slender hand and rub my thumb along her knuckles.
She smiles at me, even as exhaustion lines her young face and ages her ten years.
In different conditions, it’d suit her, but right now, I’m aching to get her home and in bed so she can take a well-earned rest.
Turi stands. “Marisol is expecting me for dinner. You can leave after the doctor does her final check-up, and Eduardo will help you get back to the house. And, Annetta, we’ve explained the mix-up to the family. You can go by your real name now.”
Annetta sighs with relief.
“Turi,” I say. A dozen forms of gratitude cross my mind, but Turi appreciates efficiency above all else, so I just say, “Thank you.”
A rare smile pulls at his mouth. “Next time you pull a stunt like that, I’ll have you cut off your own finger.”
And with that lovely thought, he leaves.
I turn back to Annetta. She glances at the door. “Was he…?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, grinning roguishly at her. “Come here, angel.”
She shakes her head, tears filling her eyes, and touches her fingertips to her lips. “Dom,” she says in a choked voice, “I’m so sorry.”
“Angel, don’t cry.”
“I thought I’d lost you. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry I left. You were right. I never should’ve gone without telling you.” She laughs bitterly, rubbing her face into her palms. “I thought I was protecting everyone by leaving, and I almost got you killed.”
“It’d take a hell of a lot more than a few bullets to kill me.
” Or to kill Marco, apparently. I shot the bastard three times, and he still had enough strength to come after us.
I wish I could’ve dragged him to Turi’s basement for risking Annetta’s life, but he wouldn’t have survived the trip, and knowing he died in emotional agony is a good-enough compromise.
Annetta’s lower lip quivers. “You were lying in a pool of your own blood.”
“Hey. Most of it was the other guy’s.”
“I couldn’t lift you up! I thought…” A few tears escape and trail down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not all your fault. You might have had a chance if I hadn’t put on so much damn weight since you moved in.”
She laughs through her tears, and I grin. She looks so beautiful when she laughs, like her face is reflecting pure sunshine.
“Dom, could you ever forgive me?”
Why is she still talking about forgiveness when I’m in bed, and she’s all the way over there? I reach for her wrist. “Already forgiven. Now get under these sheets and on top of me.”
She slaps my hands away. “Dom! You almost died.”
“Exactly. Let’s celebrate life.”
“You told me you loved me.”
I slow, looking up into her dark, teary eyes. Strands of her hair catch the harsh, fluorescent lights and transform them into gold against her rosy cheeks and her elegant neck.
Maybe this is heaven.
“Of course I love you.”
She sucks in a tiny gasp and touches her fingers over her heart. I cup a hand on her hip. I’d better get it all out so she knows how I feel, and we can get to the good stuff.
“Annetta, I fucked this all up too. I did everything wrong in that church and made plenty of mistakes after, and you still treated me like the sweetest, most loving wife alive. You’re loyal, kind, and strong.
And a great cook. And a fucking bombshell in bed.
And everything a man like me doesn’t deserve but is going to hold onto anyway.
I’m going to cherish you for the rest of my life.
And if that ending comes sooner rather than later, you already know my final thoughts will be of you. ”
I want to kiss the tears streaming down her cheeks. She’s beautiful when she laughs, and she’s beautiful when she cries.
I never stood a chance.
I need her to stop crying so far away from me and come lie on top of me, or better yet, boss me around a little as she takes me inside her, so we can both feel better.
I clutch her waist and heave her to my side.
“I love you too!” she bursts out with wet cheeks and a wide smile as I tow her toward me. “I love you, I love you so much. I don’t know how I got so lucky to find a man like you, but I’m so happy I did. I’ll never let you go, Domenico Lombardi. I love you.”
I cup her cheek. “Oh, angel. I know. It’s why all your cooking tastes so fucking good. Now get over here.”
She laughs and kisses my fingertips. “You barely fit on that bed by yourself, you big idiot. There’s no way we can both fit.”
I laugh. “We’ll make it fit.”