Chapter Eleven

Jillian

“It’s time for you and the rest of the men in this family to join us in this century, Damon. Women can do more than stay home barefoot and pregnant. Haven’t Carrie and I proved to you we are more than capable of contributing by now?”

“That’s not what I meant, Jillian. At all. We all recognize how smart and strong-minded you are. You became part of this family even before you knew what that meant. But there are a few important decisions you and I need to talk about first, and we haven’t had the time. We have some things to figure out together before you make this kind of commitment.”

I weighed his words and his request against what Vincenzo and I were talking about—in a nutshell, whether I could ever truly be part of the family. Could Damon and I be together if I was never taken seriously in the family? Would I always feel uncomfortable around everyone else, knowing they thought less of me? My heart and mind agreed on the issue, but maybe Damon had other ideas I hadn’t thought of yet. Then again, maybe he didn’t realize what was truly at stake.

“All right, Damon. I’m willing to hear you out. But this conversation isn’t over.”

“For now, the conversation is over, cara. I’ve heard some of the newer families have women capos, but our family doesn’t—and won’t as long as I’m the Boss. None of my men want to see their women in the line of fire.” Vincenzo rose, intending to have the last word.

“But their women are in the line of fire, whether the men want to see it or not. Look at Carrie and me, what we’ve been through. Do you honestly think your enemies care if we have a rank in your army? Do you think that’ll stop them from killing us if our death furthers their cause? Times have changed, Vincenzo, but you haven’t kept up.”

He stopped in his tracks when my words sank in, making him consider possibilities he’d never entertained before. The odds were not in his favor in that equation.

Damon eased onto the couch beside me and laid his IV bag on the backrest as his dad left the room. I watched Damon try to get comfortable, but he couldn’t find a suitable position. He was hurt worse than he showed the others. Probably more than he even realized while his adrenaline was freely flowing through his veins. After he’d had time to slow down then sleep, his injuries started catching up with him.

“Here, lie back.” After I helped him turn, I leaned forward, pressed against him, and helped support his weight as he leaned backward. With his back against my chest, he settled between my legs, and I wrapped my arms around him. “How’s that?”

“Perfect. I’m not too heavy on you and the babies, am I?”

“No, my love. Most of your weight is on my chest, not my stomach, but you’re fine. Don’t worry about us.”

“I have no idea how long I’ve already slept, but I’m sure I could take another long nap right here.”

“You slept for about fourteen hours, Damon. I’d say your body needed the downtime to start repairing itself. You should’ve stayed in the hospital.”

“Maybe you’re right. Or maybe I just needed you in the bed with me to feel better. For the record, I’ll always vote for the latter.”

“What did you want to talk about? I don’t like cliffhangers, so let’s hear it now.”

Perfect timing, as usual, Mama Lina came rushing into the room.

“Damon, I know this isn’t the best time, but you’ve been asleep all day, so I haven’t had a chance to talk to you.” Mama Lina patted his cheek.

“Now’s fine, Mama. What’s on your mind?”

“Jillian and I made funeral arrangements for Benny. Visitation is tomorrow afternoon, and his funeral is the next day. Maybe I should ask to postpone it a day or two until you’re better.”

“No, don’t do that. I’m well enough to sit in the funeral home for a few hours. Thank you both for doing that for Benny.”

“Of course. He was part of our family. It’s getting late, so Vin and I are going to bed now. But you two need to eat all of this food now.”

She put a tray with two plates piled with enough food for the whole family, two tall glasses, and a pitcher of iced tea on the coffee table beside us.

“My kids need to eat. You haven’t eaten all day because you’ve been asleep the whole time. I made your plates, but there’s plenty more where that came from if this isn’t enough. Now, eat, eat!”

Funny thing, I didn’t even realize I was hungry until the delicious aromas hit me, causing me to salivate uncontrollably. Pavlovian conditioning at its best—Italian-food style.

Damon’s low grumble vibrated through his chest, groaning because he’d only settled against me moments before. Plates of heaping mounds of food meant he had to move again for both of us to eat. He started to sit up, but I tightened my grip on him and held him in place instead.

“Wait. I have an idea,” I said to Damon. “Mama Lina, give me one of the plates and leave the other one on the coffee table. I’ll feed us both off one plate at a time so Damon doesn’t have to get up again.”

A small smile played on her lips. Her expression, combined with the way she stole glances at our intimate but comfortable embrace, wordlessly conveyed how pleased she was with my idea.

“Good night, kids.”

“Good night, Mama,” we replied at the same time.

She started to leave but stopped to watch our joint feeding plan in action. With the plate in Damon’s good hand and the fork in mine, I cut a hefty helping of stuffed shells with marinara sauce and offered the first bite to Damon. Only…I was behind him, leaning around his side to find his mouth…and I missed.

When I saw the long red streak of marinara sauce across his cheek, I started laughing and couldn’t stop. The harder I tried to hide it, the funnier it became, until we were both shaking because of my giggles. Mama Lina drew her lips between her teeth, trying to control her mirth while I took the plate from his hand and she passed Damon a napkin.

His exaggerated wipes along his cheek while trying to clean off his face only made my laughter worse. His whole body was relaxed, not a single tensed muscle, as he tried to clean off the sauce that only smeared across his skin. My imagination ran wild as I pictured his expression while he also tried to hide his laughter.

“You did that on purpose.” His tone was calm and casual, but I didn’t miss the hint of playfulness. Or that he waited for his mom to leave the room first.

“No, I didn’t, Damon.” He probably couldn’t even understand my broken words spoken through my continued fit of laughter.

“You’d deny it either way, doll. You’re not fooling me. So just remember this moment and how you took advantage of me in my weakened condition. Remember how you laughed and picked on me when I’m virtually helpless and starving. I only have one good hand. I look like I went head-to-head with Iron Man. Not to mention, I still have an IV stuck in my arm. But that’s all right, you go right ahead and have your fun.”

I couldn’t stop laughing throughout his entire mock tirade. Even though it was an accident, I wouldn’t have changed it for anything. We needed a reminder that we’d laugh and be carefree again. That we had more to look forward to than a lifetime of fighting the world and seeing our loved ones die.

That we could choose to be normal, or at least, our version of it.

“Here, open your mouth and take this bite of food before it gets cold. You can’t falsely accuse me anymore if your mouth is full.” I successfully found his mouth that time.

“I can still talk.” He made a point to prove me wrong, even if his words were muffled. “And, for the record, it’s still warm. Had I gotten to eat it instead of having it smeared across my face, it would’ve been hot instead of warm. You gave me a hot marinara sauce facial.”

“I’m cutting off a bigger bite for you next time. Big, hot, and delicious. Stuffing it right in your mouth.” I sliced through the shell, making sure to coat my piece with extra sauce, and brought the fork to my mouth.

“I’ve got something big, hot, and delicious I’d like to stuff in your mouth right now.”

A huge drop of sauce slid down the shell…and onto Damon’s bare shoulder. I couldn’t do anything but watch it happen in slow motion. With the plate in one hand and a fork in the other, there was no way for me to catch it midair. Damon’s yelp of pain when the hot sauce landed on his shoulder probably should’ve made me feel bad for not being more careful.

But I burst out laughing again instead.

“Talk about adding insult to injury.” He shook his head. “Want to grab some salt and just pour it directly into my wounds next?”

“You’re such a baby.” I lowered my mouth to his shoulder and licked the sauce off his skin. Taking my time, I lapped up every trace of it, noting the change in his breathing, the tensing of his muscles, and the low growl from his throat. “I licked it all up. It tastes too good to waste a single drop.”

“Now I know you’re trying to kill me. Count your blessings I’m not able to spank your ass right now.”

“You never told me you were into that. Have you been holding out on me, Marchetti? I feel so betrayed right now. Maybe I should talk to Marco about this…get his opinion.”

He turned his head to the side enough for me to see his arched eyebrow and the warning in his eyes. When he opened his mouth to counter, I quickly pushed another bite of food between his lips. He chuckled, knowing I was only teasing him, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning in to place a soft kiss on his cheek. Getting lost in him was so easy—too easy. He didn’t know, but just being by his side helped me focus on the wonderful things in our life and forget about the terrible things. Or, at least, push them out of my mind for longer stretches of time.

He was a ruthless killer; I knew that. I justified his actions by separating the man from the job, since his targets weren’t innocent bystanders by any means. But the lethal mafia capo was so far removed from the playful, affectionate man I loved, that most of the time I had a hard time seeing him as both. The man who I knew showered me with all his love, made me feel protected, desired, and fearless.

To my surprise, we finished every bite on both plates while talking, sharing memories, and laughing together. He held the plate in his good hand while I fed us. After he put the second empty plate on the coffee table, he slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position.

“Are you ready to go back to bed with me?”

“That depends. Are you going to be good in bed?”

“You and I both know I’m always good in bed.”

“Let me rephrase that. Are you going to behave?”

“I have no plans to behave anywhere, least of all in bed with you.”

“Marchetti, you are incorrigible.”

“Take me upstairs, and I’ll let you attempt to fix that. For you, maybe I’m corrigible and can be fully redeemed.”

“I’m almost positive you’re beyond the point of redemption by now, but I’m happy to give it my best shot.”

He waggled his eyebrows, his gaze instantly changing to that sexy but lethal stare that slayed me every time. The hooded eyes. The unintentional swipe of his tongue across his lips when he looked at me, like I was his next meal he couldn’t wait to taste.

My intention, however, was to have him for dessert.

When we woke the next morning, I felt more rested than I had in months. Damon did too, because he called the nurse into the bedroom almost immediately to remove his IV. She protested at first but ultimately gave in to his demands. His main argument was directly related to Benny’s funeral. Damon refused to carry a saline bag around in front of his men and anyone else who could be watching. Sickness was a sign of weakness, a trait that wasn’t in his DNA, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to question it. He compromised by agreeing to drink extra water throughout the day and stay off his feet as much as possible.

After I showered, fixed my hair, and applied a little makeup, I walked into the bedroom to find Damon. He stood in front of the full-length mirror, attempting to button his shirt with one hand in a cast. I stepped between him and the mirror and took over dressing him. Within a couple of minutes, I applied the finishing touches to his custom-fitted gray pinstripe Armani suit. The pink shirt and matching tie he chose only added to the suit’s overall elegance—and to my libido. Merely the sight of him, dressed to kill with that inherently dangerous edge to his demeanor, made me weak in the knees, even with a bruised and battered face.

“You keep looking at me like that, doll, and we won’t leave this room for a week.”

“It’s your fault. Look at that sexy man in the mirror. How can I look away?”

“You do wonders for my ego, doll. Keep talking.”

I slipped my arms under his and around his waist, being extra careful with his still fresh injuries. “I’ll stroke your ego anytime, babe. It’ll be my pleasure.”

“Block your calendar for two weeks. You’ll be locked in the bedroom with me the whole time as soon as I’m back to one hundred percent.”

He pressed his lips against mine, his kiss full of need and desire. There was no gentle swipe of the tongue. No waiting for permission to enter. He claimed my mouth as his. He invaded me in every sense of the word—mind, body, and soul. The kiss was both the most simplistic and most intimate I’d ever known. I felt the words he didn’t say in his embrace. Love. Gratitude. Desire. Devotion.

“Wow, what did I do to deserve that kiss? I’ll make sure I do it again.”

“You deserve much more than that. I love you more than you know.”

Before I could press him for more information, Vincenzo stepped into the room. “It’s time to go. Are you two ready?”

“Yeah, we’re ready, Dad. We’ll be right behind you.”

We walked hand in hand to the garage and slid into the back seat to ride with Damon’s parents to the funeral home. The somber mood permeated the car and kept conversation to a minimum. That was fine with me, though. Damon pulled me to his side, wrapped his good arm around my shoulders, and kept his lips pressed against my temple.

The parking lot was already full of cars when we arrived, but the parking spot closest to the entrance was left vacant. When Vincenzo drove straight to it, I realized the family took care of even the smallest details for the Boss. Like saving the best parking spot for him.

The moment we stepped inside, the low roar of chatter stopped, and silence filled the room. The Boss had arrived, and everyone was well aware of his presence. After Vincenzo greeted a few of the men, everyone else took their cue and resumed conversations. Damon and I kept walking through the crowd. Several people spoke to him when we passed, but Damon didn’t stop to engage with anyone.

The respect they had for Damon was apparent in their expressions, but I couldn’t miss the way most of the family men sneered at me. Word that I shot Leo must have started working its way through the ranks. If they suspected the rumors were true, I wondered how long we had before they looked differently at Damon.

True to his word, Damon led us to a set of chairs close to the open coffin. People walked by and said their final goodbyes, and Damon kept his hand wrapped around mine the entire time. Blatant stares at our joined fingers became more uncomfortable for me, but Damon’s resolve was unchanged. When a new wave of murmurs flowed through the room, I looked up just in time to see the crowd parting to give Carrie a clear path. A smile lit her face when she spotted me.

Vincenzo approached us on the other side of Damon. “Son, come sit with me for a few minutes, yes?”

“Sure, Dad.” Damon turned to me. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, doll.”

“I’ll keep her company.” Carrie took his vacated seat and hugged me hello. “How’s my preggie sister?”

“I’m okay. It feels like forever since we’ve talked, even though it’s only been a couple of days. A couple of very long days. How are you holding up? What’s going on with you?”

“I’m holding up okay, physically. Mentally, I’m trying to deal with everything that’s happened. As for what’s going on with my personal life—it’s complicated. I’ll tell you all about it when there aren’t so many snooping ears eavesdropping on our conversation.”

Carrie turned her head and looked directly at the man who was standing unusually close to us. With his motive exposed, he tried to move away nonchalantly, but his curiosity got the best of him. His gaze dropped to us briefly before he walked away.

“What’s the deal? They’ve been giving me dirty looks too.”

“They think we let Geno escape on purpose. They think I did it for Lorenzo, and you did it for me. These men are worse gossips than little old women, making up shit as they go.”

I checked around us for anyone standing too close for comfort before asking about what had been on my mind. “So they don’t know about what I did?”

“No. There were questions and speculations, but Marco squelched it quickly. He told them he did it, and if they had a problem with it, they could take it up with him personally. No one has been too keen on tangling with Marco.”

Carrie and I chatted for a while longer, limiting our topics to only those we didn’t mind the rest of the family overhearing. Every few minutes, I caught myself searching the room for Damon. He was in the far corner of the parlor, huddled around a table with a group of older men. His expression was impassive, his classic poker face when he was in business mode, but something was off in his body language. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I could tell he wasn’t pleased with the conversation.

“Who are those men with Damon?” I shifted my eyes in their general direction but kept my face turned toward Carrie.

“That’s the Marchetti Family Council. They’re probably talking about the chain of command with Leo’s death, Dad’s upcoming retirement, and Damon’s imminent promotion. Or they could be plotting to take over the world. Either topic is just as likely as the other.”

When Damon stood from the table, he walked straight back to Carrie and me. One of his men moved quickly to place another chair beside me then he stepped back, giving Damon a wide berth to claim the seat. Damon nodded at him as a thank-you but didn’t speak. I recognized him as one of the two men from my fender bender with the dump truck that started me on this whole crazy journey.

Damon was unusually quiet the rest of the time we remained at the funeral home. He answered when spoken to, but with as few words as possible. He was cordial but aloof. He didn’t make anyone feel as if they were intruding, but he wasn’t warm and welcoming either. He was part of the family, but he was all business. Damon Marchetti was an enigma I still hadn’t figured out completely.

We walked out of the funeral home with Carrie at the end of the evening. “I’ll call you soon, and we’ll go grab some coffee together. I’ll fill you in on all the drama in my life.”

“Sounds like a date to me. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.” We said our goodbyes while hugging each other. I still felt eyes boring into us from every direction. Seeing us together probably started the rumor mill up again.

Vincenzo and Lina carried the majority of the conversation on the way back to their house. Damon and I chimed in when it was appropriate, but they mostly talked about wanting to return to Italy to see family and old friends who remained there. They wanted to stroll through the small village where they grew up and observe what changes the years had brought. Listening to them talk about doing the same things normal families would want was comforting, especially after the emotionally draining hours we spent listening to others recount memories of Benny.

He died while trying to save me. I supposed that also had something to do with the side glances from the family. Had I not gone to confront Lorenzo, I wouldn’t have needed saving, and Benny would still be with them. That felt like a debt I could never repay.

“Do you want to have a nightcap with me before going to bed?” Vincenzo asked Damon when we walked into the house.

One side of Damon’s mouth lifted in a half smile, but his eyes remained unaffected. “Better not. My nurse is waiting to shoot me up with pain medicine. I doubt she’d approve of mixing it with alcohol.”

“You’re absolutely correct. She would not approve at all.” Michelle appeared out of nowhere from behind us, stealthy as a ninja. “No mixing pain meds and alcohol, unless you don’t appreciate breathing on your own anymore.”

“I guess that’s settled, then.” Damon pulled me with him toward the stairs. “We’ll get ready for bed. Michelle, you can come up in a few minutes and knock me out.”

“Just open your door when you’re ready for me. There’s no rush.” Michelle smiled good-naturedly before returning to her temporary guest bedroom upstairs.

Inside our bedroom, I helped Damon remove his jacket and shirt, maneuvering the sleeve over his cast. “How did you manage to get this shirt on without me in the first place?”

He shrugged one shoulder in answer to my question. “I just shoved it through. Didn’t care if it ripped the shirt or not.”

Then I unbuttoned his pants, and he pushed them the rest of the way off. I didn’t want to pressure him in his current state, but not being able to run my tongue over every inch of his muscular physique while he wore nothing but his boxer briefs was cruel and unusual punishment. Not that he would’ve stopped me, but after I’d insisted on pleasuring him the night before, there was no way he’d sit on the sidelines for a second time.

“What’s going on up here?” I lightly tapped his head with my finger. He grabbed my hand and pressed my palm against his cheek. The warmth from his skin flowed through me, relaxing and exciting me at the same time.

“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” His voice was unusually soft, yet his expression was sincere.

“I think we do. We complement and balance each other well.”

“For as long as I can remember, Mama has pushed all of us to get married and have kids. I’m convinced her only goal in life is to be a grandmother. When I was young, I’d daydream about what my life as an adult would be like. I’d placate Mama when she threw strong hints my way, telling her it would happen someday. Even though I knew nothing would make her happier, I couldn’t see myself as a husband or a father.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of settling down. I wanted freedom and adventure. Fortune and fame. For my name to make people tremble with fear. I worked hard to get where I’m at in the family. My men worked hard for me because I earned their respect. I’m even in line ahead of my older brother to be the next Boss. I’ve achieved everything I set out to do—and more. But now…”

Damon stopped speaking for several seconds while he stared at my slightly protruding stomach. Then he placed his hand over my baby bump. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, the muscles in his throat tightening as he swallowed.

“And now?” I asked, prompting him to finish his thought.

“Now, reality has slapped me across the face. If I don’t have you, I have nothing at all. Everything I’ve worked for and accomplished means nothing if you’re not by my side. I would walk away from it all as long as you walked with me.”

I was stunned speechless. So many questions raced through my mind, but I wasn’t sure which one to ask first. The man had a habit of thoroughly shocking me—either with his brutality or his thoughtfulness. One extreme to the other, but never down the middle of the road.

“Damon…”

“This is part of why I interrupted your little talk with my dad earlier. When I heard you volunteering to be our first female capo, I nearly had a stroke. I realized, right at that moment, my heart already knew what I wanted. My mind just had to catch up and accept the truth.”

“What do you want?”

“A safe home for our kids. A happy life with my wife. You know, I realized I’ve had a lot of ‘firsts’ with you. First time I got shot. First woman to hear me utter the words ‘I love you.’ First time I went against my dad’s decree. First woman to carry my baby. And now, I’m about to admit something I’ve never felt or even thought about before meeting you.”

He stroked my cheek with his knuckles while piercing me with the intensity of his eyes. When he stared at me like that, I had the distinct impression he was peering into my soul.

“Tell me.”

“I’ve never needed anyone before. I’ve stood on my own two feet as long as I can remember. My men carry out my orders, but if one fails me, another is always waiting in the wings to take his place. Maybe I’d be mildly inconvenienced without most people in my life, but not you.

“Need isn’t a strong enough word for how I feel about you. When I said I couldn’t handle it if anything happened to you, I wasn’t exaggerating. I need you more than my next breath. More than I need food or water to sustain me. The reason I get up in the morning and continue to wade through all the bullshit that’s happened over the last few days is because I have to protect you. There’s only one thing I can’t live without, and that’s you. Without you, I wouldn’t have a reason to live.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Damon. Why are you telling me this? Why do you think you’ll have to live without me?”