Page 89 of Revenge on the Mafia

He followed my nervous gaze to where I’d only begun to carve the letter A out.

He smiled. Brushed his palm against my forehead. “You don’t have to do that, mi solecita. Everything of mine is yours.”

I stared at him. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirmed.

I cocked my head. “What about your heart?”

“Definitely that.”

I pouted. “You won’t forget me when the new baby comes?”

He laughed. “How can I forget you, Anna? You are my sunshine. Without you, my world would be dark.”

I giggled. Crawled over and hugged him. He held me tight, then loosened his grip. “Go on. Finish it up. Can’t leave a job half done.”

The memory hummed in my heart. Vibrated in my hands.

His feet moved. He’d kept it. Preserved this special thing that lived and breathed with memories. This man was connected to my life far longer and more deeply than my understanding. He rounded the piano, ducked, and reached for my wrist.

A sob broke out of me. My chest split open right in the middle. In the gap was my bleeding heart.

His fingers soothed my pulse. His gaze too intense.

I couldn’t help it. He was the comfort I sought. My shelter on a stormy night. I crawled closer to him. “Why did you do it?”

His thumb traced my lip. “I couldn’t not do it,” his voice cracked.

“Why?” I urged.

“I’ll tell you another day.”

“Why?” I sniffled. “I deserve answers.”

His hand curled against my cheek. “You deserve all of it.” His hand slipped away. With it, he took the heat off my skin. “But I just can’t give it to you yet.” His gaze dipped to my knee. Touching his. When it came back, he gave me a promise. “Soon.”

I crawled into his arms. He picked me up. I didn’t know when he’d become my safe place, but he had. I snuggled into his chest. His heart thundered beneath my cheek. I hated myself. I didn’t want to be the one to stop that beat. I wanted to tell him I didn’t want to anymore. I couldn’t. I wanted something else more. But I didn’t. I was trapped. Indecision my crime. He carried me and brought me to bed, and even though I tugged, even though I pleaded with my eyes, just like the other day, he left me behind. But before he did, his warm words touched my eyes as he kissed my eyelids and let bitter words chill my heart.

“Play that piece at my funeral.” My breath crushed in my lungs. Then he sealed it with his next words. “Por favor.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

NICO

It was a good thing she was going to end me because, fuck, living in that house without her wasn’t an option. It was already bad enough that I’d made Daria design it for her. But seeing her in it was far worse. Each room, each corner held a languid memory. The armchair of her first time with me, the sofa where I’d laid her down and fucked her. Now even the goddamn piano was destroyed, like the history of vintage furniture, where every crack held a story. The memory of her scent, her breath, her moans. If I touched the bench, the roll of her hips would vibrate through my skin. I wanted to capture each sound and shift. Stuff them into the rim of the piano and lock it with the lid.

She was fast asleep. In my bed. Wrapped in my silk sheets. While I prowled from room to room. A ghost in my own house. Sleep was for the happy few. I wasn’t one of them.

I half expected Magda to come and find me. Give me a cup of coffee and the pep talk that went along with it. But she was nowhere in sight. Maybe she’d come when I was fucking my wife. The world could have ended, and I wouldn’t have noticed it, anyway.

But I needed someone to restrain me because bitterness was building inside me, and there was only one way to obliterate it.

Stefano answered with an annoyed groan on the third ring. “Do these nightly calls mean you aren’t being fucked?”

“I could ask the same since you always pick up.”

He growled. “Long story.”