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“I’ve been worse.” Though there’d only been a couple of times she could remember feeling worse than she did in that moment, it was still true. “It’s not like I got shot this time or broke a bone or, hell, got yeeted off a damn building.”
Giulia didn’t chuckle like Vespa had expected her to. “I asked how you’re feeling, Vespa. I wasn’t only referring to your injuries. Yesterday had to have been tough.”
“Fucking Maeve,” Vespa muttered, closing her eyes.
“I heard Beatrice killed her. Montrell seems to be coping better than I expected. I brought them both something to eat a little earlier.”
Vespa hated the writhing inside her. It said that Montrell was fine because Beatrice was the one who had killed his mother. He loved his wife more than he’d ever loved Maeve.
So many times, he had begged Vespa not to kill his mother.
She ripped a piece of the bread off with her teeth, the cut on her lip pulling and bringing her out of her sulk.
“I’m glad she’s dead,” Vespa said around her chewing.
Giulia studied her. “I was surprised to see Antonio Di Salvo stick around here last night.”
The quicksand springing up around her feet made Vespa’s nerves skitter. “That so?”
Giulia laughed. “You still have no poker face. You look ridiculous with that bugged-out black eye.”
“Then don’t bring shit up that you already know the answer to.” Vespa sighed. She wouldn’t have lied anyway, especially not to the closest person she’d had to a mother. “How’d you figure it out?”
“I saw your name on his phone before he left the kitchen last night.” Giulia considered her. “He’s a Di Salvo. And one of the most calculating made men I’ve come across.”
Vespa would have rolled her eyes if she wasn’t scared it’d hurt too much. “We’re just fucking.”
When Giulia’s gaze shifted over her shoulder, Vespa wanted to groan.
“You’re having sex with Antonio Di Salvo?” Montrell asked from behind her.
Vespa turned, wishing her arm wasn’t in a sling so she could cross both of them over her chest. “Yeah. What of it?”
He shrugged. “Nothing. I’m surprised, but good for you.” His eyebrow winged up. “Assuming he’s good to you?”
Vespa didn’t need to think about Antonio sucking her clit in front of her best friend and surrogate mother. “He’s decent, I guess.” Her hand curled against the pants that Antonio had helped her slip on that morning.
“Decent?” Montrell frowned. “He’d better be making you orgasm, or you need to ditch him.”
“You want me to tell you about my orgasms, Montrell?” Vespa asked, on even footing again when his cheeks flushed as red as her own.
“No need for details. Just making sure you’re having them.” He moved across the room, dropping a kiss to Giulia’s cheek before glancing back at Vespa. “I guess that means you no longer need a wingman.”
She barked out a laugh at the ridiculous conversation. “Not for now.”
Montrell ripped off his own piece from the loaf of bread, his brows drawing together. “And you were saying it’s nothing serious?” He hesitated. “It was Antonio who offered to help yesterday. I was surprised it wasn’t Giovanni. He and I are closer.”
“I’m not in love or anything,” Vespa said, surprised by the twinge of disappointment she got from admitting it out loud. “Not like you.”
Giulia beamed up at Montrell, distracted, as Vespa had hoped she’d be. “You finally told Beatrice that you love her?”
“Please. Hasn’t everyone heard him say it by now?” Vespa tossed the last of her own bread into her mouth and told herself the pitiful swirling in her stomach just meant she was still hungry.
She crossed to the counter for more bread as she listened to her family gripe and laugh around her. The perfect balm to her injuries was having them all alive.
Grape smoke clung to Antonio that night as he made his way to Enzo, who was waiting outside of Giovanni and Nera’s bedroom.
“You look like shit,” his uncle murmured in greeting.
