Epilogue
EPILOGUE
MARISOL
“Don’t be nervous,” Salvatore says gently.
“I’m not nervous,” I lie, and he laughs. The damn man can read me like a book.
I reach out my hand, and the second it brushes against warm fur, tears prick my eyes.
“How does it feel?”
“So soft,” I whisper.
“Stroke. Like this.”
He places his hand over mine and glides it down Buck’s back. My orange cat’s little spine arches up to meet my palm, and he starts honest-to-God purring .
“Sal.” My throat is thick with emotion.
“I know, passerotta. I know.”
Buck hasn’t let me touch him like this since Kristin died. And even when she was alive, he’d barely let me scratch his head before he ran off.
I get one more pet in before Buck lashes out and bites me. He launches off Salvatore’s lap and scurries to his palace.
Salvatore observes me carefully. “Are you okay?”
I hold my bitten hand to my chest, tears crowding my vision. “Yes,” I say. “That was amazing. Thank you so much.”
Salvatore sighs with relief and pulls me onto his lap. We’ve been working for weeks to get Buck comfortable enough to let me pet him, and this was the longest he’s ever tolerated. My chest expands with happiness. All thanks to my husband.
“Does this mean you’ll take your ring back?” he asks hopefully, making me bite back laughter.
We’ve been working non-stop since he’s taken the helm of the Chicago Mafia. I thought with the threat of Junior gone, things would slow down, but we’ve barely had a chance to sit together like this. When we meet each other in bed at night, it’s with a desperate flurry of kisses and sex before we fall asleep for a few hours in each other’s arms. Even so, Salvatore’s found time to bring me little gifts: my favorite gummy worms, new locks, the entire set of figurines from Demon Blaster, a jar of gourmet peanut butter when I got my period. A jar of crappy, generic peanut butter when he noticed I wasn’t eating the fancy stuff with my usual enthusiasm.
And no more secrets. I show him everything I’m working on, and he whispers all of the Family business into my ear at night while I trace shapes over his chest. He told me about Junior confessing to double-crossing Matteo while they were in the basement. And about his vow to kill his dad. Instead of trying to hide it to protect me, he asked for my help—and I said yes . We’re partners, in everything.
I drop my gaze to my empty ring hand. In truth, I’ve missed my ring every second after I threw it at him. And even though he hasn’t said a word about it, I think he’s guessed as much.
He’s been penitent and patient.
He killed Junior for me.
He does everything for me.
“Yes, Sal. I want my ring back.”
With almost startling speed, he fishes the ring out of his pocket and slips it back onto my finger.
“A little exc—” I start, but he swallows the next word with a hard kiss. His arms flex against my back as he folds me into him.
When he pulls away, he drops his forehead to mine. “I love you, Marisol.” His thumb catches my ring as it brushes against the back of my hand.
“I know,” I say and smile. “And I love you more.”
If love’s a competition, I’ll win that too. And for once, it’s okay, because my husband loves to watch me win.
He groans and drops his mouth to my neck to suck and nip at the skin.
I surrender completely to him for a few delicious moments before pulling away. “I still have to pack.”
This is the first week we’ve had a little breathing room. I finally accepted Salvatore’s offer to take us to the crystal blue beaches of Favignana while Worm, Dom, and Barbara handle our workload here. When we get back, Nico will move into the house, but thoughts of dealing with Salvatore’s half-brother are getting packed into a box and shoved to the side. For now, all of my energy is going into stuffing myself with Italian sights and foods. And a certain Italian man.
“Pack what?” Salvatore says as he continues his descent down my neck. “You’ll be naked the whole time.”
“But what about Grant and Calvin?”
It was Salvatore’s idea to fly out Grant, Calvin, and their families with us. I’d grown up with both boys, and we all shared a love for Kristin, even if I loved her the most. She’d want us to be on good terms. We could try again, for her sake. They’ll all visit for three days and then fly back while Salvatore and I spend another week at the resort he rented out.
“Fine. You can pack one dress,” he says before tugging my breast out of my bra and stuffing as much as he can into his mouth.
I moan and melt underneath him.
Favignana is even more stunning than the pictures. The view of the rocky coasts and neon blue waters stretches out endlessly from our room. Overhead, seagulls glide and dip with the salty winds. It feels like I’ve passed through a storm and arrived exactly where I was meant to be.
Salvatore comes up behind me on the banister and circles his arms around my waist, his bare chest brushing against my naked back. We’ve been making up for a lot of lost time since we’ve gotten here.
Grant and Calvin will touch down on the island today with Lilah and Calvin’s wife and kids. I’m excited to see my nephews and the rest of my family. Grant called ahead of time with Lilah to apologize for his cheating. He’d waited so that I could apologize for my “cheating” as well, but I’d said nothing. Seeing as how Salvatore had his head buried between my legs at the time, Grant was lucky the conversation lasted longer than thirty seconds. Grant had been fired from Snap Close, but “it was okay because he’d gotten a fantastic job at Black Shield Security with great benefits”. I’d smiled on the phone. Somewhere, I know Kristin is proud of me. That woman didn’t have an ounce of hate in her heart for anyone. She can rest easy knowing all her children are happy and taken care of.
And I am happy—happier than I’ve ever been in my life. I have someone who makes me feel special with every gesture and every glance.
I’m still terrified. I don’t think that’ll ever go away, but whenever I think of any of the hundred different ways I could lose him, I remind myself I have him now. And that I don’t give up easily.
As if echoing my thoughts, his arms flex possessively around me.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“I’m trying to decide if I’ll tie you to the bed or add another lock to the door. I don’t feel like sharing you quite yet.”
“Why don’t you try both and see how long it takes me to get out?”
Salvatore nips at my ear. “How about a game? Which do you think will happen faster? That you escape or that I catch you?”
The familiar threads of arousal and challenge wind through me. I twist in his arms and rise on my toes to capture his mouth with mine. He’s strong and sure under my touch as he deepens the kiss. I pull away to drink in the sight of the dangerous man who owns my heart and soul. His amber eyes stay fixed on me, never wavering. I trace my hand along the little sparrow— la passerotta —tattooed over his heart, and I know, I own him too. Salvatore wraps his hand over mine.
I smile. “Let’s find out.”