Chapter 17
RENZO
Dr Conti fusses over Giada with calm patience I know is part of his routine but dammit, I wish he would hurry the fuck up.
I stand by the window of the second living room, jaw clenched, pretending not to watch every tremble of her lashes, every flicker of discomfort across her face.
Maddie hovers nearby, wringing her hands.
Cesare is in the living room pacing like a tiger.
Dante’s pretending to read messages on his phone.
Sofiya sharpens daggers with her eyes every time Rafa opens his mouth.
It’s a fucking family reunion in Ortigia.
And I’m seconds away from throwing half these people out the nearest window.
‘Her vitals have stabilised from this morning, which is good news,’ Dr Conti eventually murmurs. ‘Give me a few more minutes and I’ll be done. No lingering vertigo or headaches. She may join dinner, but keep her calm.’
I almost snort.
Calm?
In this goddamn house with these fucking animals I call blood?
As I herd everyone out of the room, the doctor gives me the tight, warning look he’s been perfecting since being dragged into my particular nightmare and steps aside.
I’m tempted to say fuck it and stay behind. Hold her hand. Place her in my lap where she belongs. Maybe—
‘No.’ Cesare’s voice cuts through my dirty thoughts and, oh yes, I want to punch him too. The droll but steely look in his eyes tells me he knows this. Doesn’t give a flying fuck. ‘We need answers, Renzo. Before dinner.’
And here we go.
I inhale through my nose. ‘Sure. Ask away.’
Rafa folds his arms, shoulder pressed to Sofiya’s. ‘Start with why you fucked off to Sicily without a word instead of coming home. With Giada.’ He points a damning finger at me. ‘Especially when you knew sure as shit that we all needed to know?’
‘Vacation,’ I say blandly.
‘Vacation?’ Dante barks a laugh. ‘You showed up at a burned-down convent, wearing a sling and a fever, with a crew you won’t name. That your idea of vacation?’
Rafa lifts a brow. ‘Tell me, did you get lost on the way to Taormina? Or were you hoping some random priest might offer you a discount on spiritual cleansing?’
My eyes snap to him. ‘You done?’
Cesare steps forward. ‘Renzo. What exactly were you doing in that convent? And don’t play word games with me.’
The air shifts. Even Maddie looks over.
I shrug one shoulder. ‘Getting what I needed.’
‘And that was?’ Cesare presses.
I tilt my head. ‘A woman.’
Rafa explodes. ‘What the fuck does that mean? You already had Giada with you when you left Modena. So just spit out what the hell you’re hiding or so help me fucking God, I’ll stick Orazio on your ass and walk away.’
Fuck. Orazio. Another headache I have to deal with. ‘Does he know?’ I snap.
Cesare’s eyes burn into me. ‘He will in the next two fucking seconds if you don’t tell us what we want to know.’
Footsteps approach, soft and hesitant.
Every head turns and there’s instant quiet as every man in the room freezes and every woman softens.
Giada stands at the archway, hands clasped in front of her, eyes bouncing nervously from one Salvatore to another.
She smooths down the soft chocolate dress that hugs her tits and waist. The neckline’s modest, but the way it skims her hips is not and my mouth waters and my fingers tingle with the reminder of the marks I’ve left on her bare skin.
Her hair is knotted in that prim little twist she thinks makes her look un-alluring but only makes me itch harder to prove her so fucking wrong. Because I know all it’ll take is one tug to unravel it… literally. To have it flowing over my eager fingers.
I’m already moving. I cross the room in four long strides, cup her jaw gently, tilt her face up, and kiss her.
Slow, claiming, no apology.
Her breath stutters and her fingers hover uselessly between us. Then she melts, leaning into me like every cell remembers exactly who I am.
As it fucking should.
When I pull back, her cheeks are pink, her eyes bright.
Dante whistles. ‘Well, well. Another one bites the dust.’
Giada chokes on air. I glare at Dante. He raises both palms.
‘Just saying.’ He grins. ‘Salvatore curse. Like dominoes into a fucking frying pan. You all fall hard.’
‘Stop it,’ she whispers, mortified.
I kiss the corner of her mouth just to hear her gasp.
Cesare clears his throat. ‘We were discussing—’
‘What happened when you left the hospital with Renzo, and what he was doing at the burned-out convent,’ Maddie probes softly.
Giada goes still but she doesn’t volunteer anything. Good girl.
A muscle in my jaw jumps.
Maddie steps closer, voice gentle. ‘But… we can get to that later. Right now, we thought… you should know everything we do about what happened the night you disappeared, if you’re up to it.’
‘Okay… but why?’ Giada whispers.
‘Because,’ Cesare says carefully, ‘you’re part of this now.’
Giada’s throat bobs. ‘What… Can you tell me exactly what happened? Why…?’ She pauses and a wave of uncertainty and pain washes over her face. I grip her hand tighter and I’d fold her inside me to keep her warm and safe if I could.
Rafa leans back in his chair, expression tight.
‘The same bullshit, sweetheart. If you’re top dog, everyone wants to pull you down.
In this case it was the Russians, pushed by your grandfather, El Topo.
They had their panties in a bunch because we didn’t want to invite them to the party.
They stormed the church knowing our loved ones were in there.
Started a gunfight that’s turned into a war that exploded all over New York and the Eastern Seaboard.
A war we won, but with a few essential culprits that got away. ’
Giada flinches, hand flying to her chest. Sofiya glares at her husband but he shrugs, unrepentant, before he takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. Sofiya’s hard expression eases, while mine intensifies.
‘Stop with that shit,’ I snap at him, then brush my thumb along Giada’s knuckles. ‘Remember what I said, baby. You’re safe now.’
But her shoulders curl inward.
Sofiya notices first. ‘Everyone, give her some fucking space,’ she warns. ‘Too much at once could… spiral.’
Cesare nods, backing off.
Rafa’s jaw grits until Sofiya elbows him hard enough that he grunts.
I slide my arm around her waist. ‘Dinner is ready. I’m going to feed Giada. Come. Or don’t.’
Of course they all come. And Cesare flashes me a look that warns me I’m edging the asshole of insubordination. I shrug.
Dinner is set in the courtyard beneath lemon trees, candles flickering, shadows dancing like old ghosts across stucco walls.
Giada sits by my side, stiff at first. Then she gradually softens when she recognises familiar dishes.
Maddie smiles wistfully. ‘You always loved polpette like this. And the way Nonna made caponata? You’d steal half before it hit the table.’
Giada looks down at her plate, blush blooming anew, glancing shyly at me.
I snort. ‘She’s been stealing mine already, so sounds about right.’
Her head jerks up, mortified. ‘I haven’t!’
I slide my forkful towards her. ‘It’s okay, baby. You can steal as much as you want. What’s mine is yours.’ I slide my eyes down her body, lingering on all my favourite places. ‘As long as you give me what’s mine.’
‘Christ,’ Rafa mutters. ‘He’s triple-whipped and domesticated.’
Dante snorts. ‘Barf. You better not be getting fat. Unless you don’t plan on fitting back into your race seat after the break?’
Shit. I haven’t even thought about racing in… days.
My eyes catch my twin’s and his widen a little. Yeah, colour me fucking stunned, frate.
‘I’ll be ready,’ I murmur, but I see he doesn’t look convinced.
Hell, he looks shaken.
Justified.
It’s the first time I haven’t lived, breathed and crapped Formula One racing since Cesare sat us down five years ago and told us his vision for the future.
Since, fresh from the devastation of losing my mother, the bloody carnage that followed, and the hell of Giada disappearing off the face of the earth, I threw myself into the first race car simulator and never looked back.
Since I won the championship last year and Dante came a very close second.
‘You sure? Because it’s not the end of the world or not at all tragic to admit I’m kicking your ass in the championship and so you need to take a breather?’ His gaze flicks to Giada. ‘Or admit that you’d rather play house?’ he mocks lightly.
My hand tightens on her hip and just to piss him off, I take my time feeding Giada another bite before I answer. ‘Fuck off. I said I’ll be ready.’ I point my fork at him. ‘And be ready to kiss those thirty-two points goodbye.’
‘Fighting talk. I like it,’ Cesare mutters in quiet approval.
‘W-when is the next race?’ Giada asks.
‘In two weeks. And you’ll be there, trackside.’ It’s not a question so I don’t expect an answer.
Talk drifts.
Wine flows.
Then someone – Cesare – mentions Nightowl.
The table groans again.
‘They’re a fucking pain in my ass,’ Rafa snarls.
‘Mine too,’ Cesare adds. ‘And yet they somehow always know everything before we do.’
Sofiya lifts her brows. ‘They’ve helped us more than hurt us.’
‘Because it amused them,’ Rafa spits. ‘But the motherfucker is running out of lives. And dark holes to hide in.’ There’s a relish to the statement that tells me my brother is on the hunt. As always.
Good. I’d love a word or ten with Nightowl.
But… as I let my gaze drift over Giada’s breathtakingly perfect features, I can’t help but acknowledge Sofiya’s words too. The infuriating asshole has helped us more than hurt us.
The door opens then and an older woman walks in, carrying a bundle I recognise instantly.
Nico.
Maddie, a beatific smile breaking over her face, rises instantly to take the baby.
The kid’s got Cesare’s scowl and Maddie’s eyes, and every time I see him I’m reminded that the Salvatores have somehow survived every war thrown at them.