Chapter 15
DAMIANO
The ugly motherfucker caught me by surprise. I fall back, one foot behind the other, before finding my balance.
Alessia is behind me. I put out an arm, hoping to protect her. Seth stands in front of Madison.
“Francesco, listen to me,” I say in Italian. “It’s time to let go. Alessia loved you, but the relationship is over. You must move on, just as she must.”
“Oh, and you think she should move on with you?” Spittle flies from his mouth and his cheeks darken with anger. “You criminal bastard, thinking she could ever love you again—”
“We aren’t together, Alessia and me.”
“That is bullshit!” He puts his hand to his waistband and whips it back with a gun.
Fuck. I hold up my hands. Usually Seth would already be on this situation, but he’s also protecting Madison, and I can’t fault him for that.
“Listen, please, Francesco.” I keep my hands where he can see them.
But of course, he still views me as a threat. His finger moves on the trigger.
I drop down, pulling Alessia with me, and the shot echoes above my head.
While I leap to my feet, Seth moves into action, grabbing Francesco’s arm and squeezing it behind him. Francesco drops the gun. I kick it behind me, far from Francesco.
As Francesco elbows himself free of Seth’s hold, he reaches into his jacket pocket at the same time.
This time, instead of a gun, he pulls out a knife.
“Don’t do this, Francesco,” I warn. “It won’t end up well for any of us.”
Behind me, Alessia picks up something. I want to make sure it isn’t the gun. Unfortunately, I have to keep my eyes on Francesco, who dances on his feet, ready to lunge with the knife at any second.
“Francesco.” I keep my voice calm and even. “It’s over, just put down the knife.”
He yells and lunges toward me, slashing with the blade. It catches me on the forearm before I kick him back.
Stinging pain spreads through my arm, and blood stains my white shirt. I curse, knowing I need to cover the wound. No time, though—Francesco still holds the knife. A victorious smile twists his mouth.
He believes he has already won this fight.
When he readies himself for another attack, Alessia appears in my peripheral vision.
“You wouldn’t dare, bitch,” Francesco says in Italian.
I turn my head to look at her fully. Dread pools in my gut. She holds the gun in both hands, shaking with effort, fear, or adrenaline, I’m not sure.
“Alessia, no—” I start to say.
Francesco darts toward us.
Alessia screams and pulls the trigger twice.
Two spots of red bloom over Francesco’s gray t-shirt. He clutches his chest, a look of pained disbelief in his eyes as he stumbles backward.
Seth hustles Madison out of his way. Francesco’s back hits the edge of the dresser and he slides down to sit in front of it. He coughs, blood tingeing his mouth and lips a deep red. “Alessia—”
He coughs again, and his eyes roll back.
Just as violently as he lived his life, Francesco Colombo dies.
* * *
MADISON
The police kept Alessia with them. They wanted to talk to her at the station. I gave them my statement at the motel, as did Damiano and Seth. They didn’t have further questions, but they asked that we remain available in case they need to talk to us again.
And now we’re back at Nove, the three of us walking into Damiano’s penthouse apartment. Sad, battered, bruised. In Damiano’s case, bandaged.
I still can’t believe Alessia shot Francesco.
I don’t know that there was much choice, although I think eventually Damiano and Seth would’ve been able to subdue him.
But then what? He’d probably go to prison.
Would Alessia live every day in fear of his escape or release?
Maybe, maybe not. Or perhaps he wouldn’t go to prison at all—it’s possible he could somehow evade conviction and remain in town to terrorize her.
It’s impossible to know.
“Drinks.” Damiano strides into the kitchen, leaving Seth and me facing each other.
I start to follow Damiano. “I’ll give him a hand.”
“Wait.” Seth holds out an arm. “Do you know what today is?”
Despite everything that happened with Francesco, I haven’t forgotten. “It’s Kyle’s birthday.”
“I got you flowers. I don’t know why.”
Because he was thinking of me. And his brother. He probably can’t think of me without thinking of his brother—in his mind, Kyle and I are irrevocably together.
Without a word, I step toward Seth and wrap my arms around his waist. “I understand now. And it’s okay. If you want distance, I’ll tell Damiano to back off, and we’ll leave you alone—”
“Distance is too painful.”
I’m afraid to look at his face. “Then…what? Where does that leave us?”
Before Seth can answer, Damiano returns with three tumblers of whiskey. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No.” Seth steps back from me and takes a glass from Damiano. He retreats to one of the chairs near the couch.
Damiano kisses my cheek and leads me to the couch, wrapping his uninjured arm around me. His other arm bears a bandage, his torn sleeve rolled up to reveal it. He brushed aside the EMTs’ offers to bring him to the hospital for stitches. Because the cut wasn’t very deep, they didn’t insist.
“I didn’t know you were coming to Nove today,” Damiano says. “Were you here to see me?”
I nod, suddenly feeling shy. Earlier, I’d been full of confidence and flush with warm feelings after reading about Irina and Vivienne. Now, I keep seeing Alessia with the gun in her hand and Francesco falling backward against the dresser.
I push away the thoughts. That horrible memory doesn’t belong here. I’m safe here, with Damiano and Seth, two men who have demonstrated again and again that no matter where I am, if I’m in danger, they’ll show up to save me.
“Is there a reason you wanted to see me?” Damiano asks.
“I wanted to talk to you.” I snap my mouth closed, not wanting to reveal more. Seth is sitting right there, and this has to do with him, too.
Damiano seems to understand, but does he take pity on me and drop the subject? Heck no. That isn’t how he operates.
His dark brown eyes stare intently into mine. “What did you want to talk to me about, Madison?”
“It’s…just some stuff I was thinking about.” I can see where this conversation is going—he’s going to push and pull until I spill everything. I could get up, excuse myself, and walk out of this apartment. Nobody is holding me here against my will.
But after what Seth said, distance is too painful, maybe it’s better to say it all now, together with the three of us.
That doesn’t make it any easier to blurt out my feelings.
Damiano lightly moves his hand over my waist, stroking my side. It’s both soothing and arousing at the same time. “Bella, did it have anything to do with what we talked about the other night at Low Vice? Is it about having a relationship with not just me, but with Seth as well?”
Seth looks up, his hazel eyes sharp. Before, I had a sense he was listening intently to Damiano and me, but now there’s no doubt.
“Well?” Damiano prompts.
“Yes.” The word comes out as a whisper, but it might as well be a shout.
He continues stroking my side, except he lifts my shirt slightly so that his fingers are on my skin. On every downstroke, they dip into the waistband of my jeans.
“And what are your thoughts on the matter?” he asks.
“My thoughts are…” My voice stops working because the slow, light touch of his fingertips just beneath my waistband is driving me insane.
Seth leans forward. “Yeah? What are your thoughts, Madison?”
“My thoughts are I’m willing to try,” I blurt out before I can lose my words again.
“I’m pleased to hear that,” Damiano says. “And Seth? What do you think?”
“Staying away from Madison is torture. I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to.” Seth laughs and points at Damiano. “Don’t look so smug, asshole. I came to this realization without your so-called help.”
Wait…Seth is willing? He’s on board with this whole crazy arrangement? I thought he’d storm out, upset that we’re even discussing it. But distance is too painful.
He wants to be with me.
Fucking in that private booth at the baseball game. Watching me in the hot tub in Mirarosa, watching me with Damiano in Low Vice. He might have done all of that reluctantly, but he still wanted it.
He still wants it. He wants me.
My heart gives a happy extra beat in my chest.
“I think it’s time the three of us showed our feelings together. Don’t you?” Damiano is looking at me when he speaks, but I have a feeling the words are just as much for Seth as they are for me.
Seth leans back in his chair. “Miss M. It’s time for you to take off your clothes.”
“And once you do,” Damiano adds, “I’ll get to watch you fuck Seth.”