Page 120 of The Savage

‘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.