Page 124 of The Beast Who Begged Me

“Caligula.”

I’ve always hated that name. Hated the implications, the weight of it, the reasons behind it. But coming out of Dami’s mouth, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.

Then he kisses me.

His forearm comes around my waist, drawing me closer, and I go carefully, mindful of his ribs. He makes an impatient sound against my mouth and pulls me the rest of the way himself. I cup his jaw, and a shudder runs through him as I kiss him back.

He’s shaking. This man who tore himself apart climbing into a death cage to protect me is shaking in my arms, and I hold him as tightly as I dare.

When he lifts his head, he keeps me close. “I thought I’d lost you,” he says. He rests his forehead against mine for a moment, before his fingers find the chain around his neck. They’re too torn to manage the clasp.

“Let me.” I lift it over his head, but he catches my hand before I can lower it. He presses the ring into my palm, warm from his body, and folds my fingers around it.

“Tell me again,” he rasps out.

“I love you, Damiano Orsini.”

“Again. Please.”

“I love you.” I brush my mouth against his. “And I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it.”

He bows his head and presses his lips to my knuckles, lingering there until I stroke his cheek and he looks up. He doesn’t ask again. He kisses me instead, slow and sweet.

And then he holds me close as Gallo drives us through the dark, following the car taking Daniel King to his fate.

CHAPTER 38

DAMIANO

By the time we get inside the Morelli warehouse, King is already in the chair. Fontana has zip-tied his wrists behind his back and anchored his ankles to the legs, but he acts like a man whose dinner reservation is running late.

My hands throb in time with my pulse. I want to put them around King’s neck and squeeze, but Caligula takes one look at them in the light and pulls me toward a bathroom at the back of the warehouse instead.

Fontana finds us a first-aid kit in a supply cupboard. Caligula washes my hands and wraps them in gauze, then gets the blood off his own face and neck. When he’s done, he changes out of my jacket and into a Fontana-supplied sweatshirt and drawstring pants, both too big for him, and a pair of battered sneakers. I think they’re Fontana’s workout clothes, and I don’t like seeing them on Caligula, but I shut up about it.

He slides the ouroboros back onto his finger. The sleeves of his top hang over his hands until he pushes them up, and I try not to think about how close I came to never seeing that ring on his hand again.

“These really do need medical attention,” he says, looking at my bandages. “As soon as we’re finished.” He borrows my phone and calls Ferraro, telling him to have Darla waiting at the townhouse when we get back.

“Let’s finish this.” I pull my jacket back on, checking the pocket for the capsule. It’s still there.

Gallo is waiting outside in the car. Fontana said he just wanted a few words with King and then he’d leave us to it.

“Mr. Orsini,” King says as I come back to the main floor. His English accent is back. “I believe we should begin by acknowledging that this evening has been a regrettable misunderstanding.”

I stare at him. “Sure.”

Caligula comes in behind me and moves closer to King than I’d like. King straightens in the chair, trying to restore some order to his clothes with his shoulders. “Mr. Clemenza. I’m relieved to see you’re unharmed.”

“It’s Don Clemenza, actually.” Caligula holds out his hand. Shows the ring on his finger.

King’s gaze stays on it a moment too long. Then he looks up at Caligula’s bruised face. “Of course. Don Clemenza.”

Caligula pulls up a seat in front of him. He lowers himself into it carefully, although his voice gives nothing away. “Let’s talk.”

King begins by explaining what a valuable arrangement we could make. Fontana opens a notebook and lets him get through three sentences before asking who owns the Obelisk.

“I do.”