Salvatore #2
"Baby brother." His tone shifts. Calm. Certain. The way he says everything. "You and I both know I'm the true Don of this family."
Matteo's jaw tightens.
My hand closes harder around the phone.
Dante is the eldest and by standard, he should have been the don.
But he's not, I am. Our father's rejection didn't break him, it refined him into something harder and colder and more patient than any of us.
He disappeared and spent fifteen years becoming exactly what Father said he could never be, and he has been waiting, in his particular way, for the day to strike.
Today was apparently that day.
"Dante." I keep the name separate from everything else. "Don't make me kill you, brother."
The words land in the air between us and stay there.
Silence on the line.
And then, very simply, very quietly, in the voice of a man who is already three steps ahead and has been since before the conversation started:
"Catch me if you can."
The line goes dead.
I stand in the cleared waiting room of a hospital on what was supposed to be my honeymoon, my brother's voice still in my ear, and for a long moment I say nothing.
Then I turn to Raffaele who walked in just at the end of it. "I want him found."
Raffaele meets my gaze. "I know."
"Official. Every channel. Every contact. His face goes to every family on the eastern seaboard within the hour."
"Sal—" Matteo warns.
"He shot a man at my wedding, Matteo." The control in my voice is absolute because it has to be.
Because if I let go of it now, not even I know what comes out.
"He drew blood. I don't care what his reason is.
I don't care what he thinks he knows about who the true Don is. " I hold my brother's gaze. "Find him."
Matteo nods once.
Marco Marino will survive. The doctors have confirmed it. He will be on his feet soon enough.
I allow myself a few seconds to feel the relief of that.
Then I go back to Valentina.
She is sitting in the chair beside her father's bed when I open the door.
Marco is propped up against the pillows, color returned to his face, looking far more irritated than a man who took a bullet a day ago has any right to be. Sofia sits on one side of the bed. Their mother sits on his hospital bed, like she can anchor him there by sheer will.
Valentina looks up when we walk in, all four of us.
My eyes find hers, but I don't speak. There's too much in the room. Relief. Anger. The wreckage of a day that was supposed to be something else entirely.
We sort through it with a look, the way we're starting to understand each other without words. She studies my face, finds whatever she's looking for, and gives a small nod.
"Shadow?"
"Yes."
"Well, you can't kill him. He's your brother."
Matteo lets out a quiet chuckle. Raffaele shoots him a look.
I drag a hand down my face, already feeling the headache settling in. "I was afraid you'd say that."
Elio pushes off the wall with a sigh. "If we're done here, I've got a very hot date waiting for me at the penthouse."
Matteo snorts and reaches over to ruffle his hair. "Classy."
Elio swats his hand away, scowling. "Don't touch me."
Marco laughs, and I walk over, stopping beside Valentina.
"Thank you, all of you," he says, his gaze moving from me to my brothers. They nod, then turn and walk out.
"Thank me by getting better and getting out of that bed," I tell him.
Marco is moved to a private room with two of my men outside the door, his wife resting on the sofa inside.
Valentina reaches for my hand without looking, and I take it. I walk her and her sister to the car. They want to hang out a little before she comes home.
When we get to the car, Sofia opens the passenger door to find a black bag with a blue ribbon tied on it.
"Ooh, is this for me?" Sofia asks.
"No, leave that alone," Valentina says.
"Why? What is it?" Sofia opens the bag and pulls out the contents. Damn younger siblings.
"Blue socks?" she says disapprovingly.
I look at Valentina, and she's blushing.
"Who are they for?" I ask.
"They're for you. Your wedding gift."
"Can I have them? My feet are a little cold." I look down, showing her I'm not wearing any socks since she's fed up with black ones.
Valentina walks around, puts the socks back in the bag with the stuffing paper. She gives her sister a firm look, and Sofia shrugs. She walks back over to me and hands me the bag. "Happy honeymoon, Salvatore."
I lift her up and press her against the car. Her legs wrap around me and I kiss her hard, biting at her neck, then back to her lips.
"Ew, maybe we can save that for when you guys get back home, huh? I promise I'll send her back in three hours. Two hours, tops," Sofia says.
"See you tonight, in my bed?" I ask.
"Do I have a choice?" she asks.
I press my bulge against her stomach, making sure her sister doesn't see, and she bites her lip. "You always have a choice," I remind her.
“This thing is so uncomfortable, I have to take them off,” she reaches for the pin at the back of her hair, and I stop her.
"Let me." I spin her around and she goes still.
I take my time. Each pin, carefully. Her hair falls in dark waves.
When the last pin is gone, I press my lips to the back of her neck.
She breathes in. this whispers so her sister doesn’t hear, "Salvatore."
"Valentina."
"When I get home, don't be gentle."
I turn her around.
"I never am," I tell her.
She reaches up and kisses me again. "See you soon."
I watch them drive away, then head home to make arrangements for our honeymoon.
Because Valentina deserves a proper honeymoon.