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Giovanni nodded, clapping him on his good shoulder, in the same way Vittore used to when he’d done something right.
His steps almost faltered at the thought, but he kept going. As much as he hated his uncle now, Antonio had learned his instincts from him.
Ever since the evidence had begun pointing at Rossi, those instincts had been screaming.
Besides, there was no way in hell Vespa had gone home to rest like she needed. He would go, help her relax again after a day from hell, and tell her it might be the last time for a while, even if that thought was killing him.
Giovanni was right. She deserved that. She deserved that, and so much more.
Montrell was tipsy enough when they returned to the estate that Vespa managed to avoid talking to him. She left her best friend to Beatrice’s gentler care as guilt created a pulsing headache that wouldn’t let Vespa go.
After the car crash, the torture session, climaxing so hard she’d blissed out, and then the sudden panic of a second attack, she was running on fumes. But she was still moving; still alive.
And someone had to order the capos around so that it would stay that way.
She tried to block the last conversation she’d had with Antonio from her mind. He’d been perfect in the pantry, but then he’d fucked it up by saying she relied on luck. She tried to get the anger back, but it was her own words ringing in her ears. They’d kind of sounded like a goodbye.
That was for the best. They’d only been fucking anyway. What the hell had she lost besides a few good orgasms? She needed to focus on herself and Montrell. The Coronellas came first.
Her head throbbed, and she lifted her hand, wincing when she pressed it against the cut along her forehead. The memory of Antonio brushing a kiss over it made her breath shudder.
“Vespa, we’ve got this.” Dominico tried to smile at her, but he looked too worried to be convincing. “Seriously, go lie down. I hate to say this, but you look like shit.”
Montrell had taken Vespa’s suggestion and promoted Dominico’s mentor to capo to replace Giorgio. Their crew was around the house that night, and they had been with her in the other vehicles during the car chase.
She nudged his arm. “You all did good, taking out the ones who rammed you.”
“That’s nothing compared to taking them out while flipped upside down,” Dominico gushed with a flush to his skin.
Vespa frowned. “That’s—”
“Vespa!” Beatrice snapped from the stairs. Her heels clicked in the sudden silence as she strode down the last few steps.
“Dammit,” Vespa mumbled, wanting to disappear. She turned to face the music instead. “Look, I fucked up. I shouldn’t have been—” She cut herself off as she remembered the men still scattered around the foyer and left out admitting to being railed in the pantry. “No excuses. I should have been with you and Montrell.”
Beatrice frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Vespa hunched her shoulders as she stared back. “The restaurant. I got distracted.”
Beatrice’s frown turned into a glare. “Are you implying I can’t protect my husband?”
“Fuck no! But it was stupid for all of us to hang out there. A goddamn idiotic move, like Antonio said.” Vespa cringed as she remembered the accurate accusation. “I was avoiding facing things and then even pushed wine on Montrell. I shouldn’t have. When I heard the bullets…” Vespa focused on Beatrice’s face, realizing every word was making Montrell’s wife angrier. She closed her eyes. “I keep fucking everything up,” she mumbled.
“Because you’re tired!” Beatrice crossed her arms as she continued to glare. “Get your ass to bed.”
Vespa reached back to grip her bun. “I can’t. We need to—” A hand clamped over her mouth from behind.
“You need rest, Vespa.” The voice in her ear sounded exactly like Antonio.
She shoved the hand away as she whirled, blinking at him standing there. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Without his jacket, Antonio’s cast was all too visible and annoying to look at. If he stuck around, worse could happen to him. He grabbed her arm with his good hand, trying to drag her toward the stairs.
Vespa’s temper flared. “I’ll give you one chance. Let go of me, or I’m breaking your other arm.”
Antonio released her, his hand moving to his hair and dragging through it. “I know you’re your own person, Vespa, but you’re swaying on your feet!”
“That’s none of your business!” Vespa’s headache twisted tighter. “Go back to where you belong.” Her gaze raked over the Coronella soldiers present. “We’re supposed to be on high alert, and you just let him stroll in here?” The soldiers’ feet shuffled, and they all looked away.
