50. Gigi

50

GIGI

I'm pacing the vast space that's Matteo's living room. It's almost dark outside now. Tasha is rocking herself on the sofa, knees pulled to her chest. She stares at me, and I can't help but think this situation is bringing back nasty memories for her. Matteo is out there, too, and what with this being the Mafia, neither of us have guarantees our men will come back, irrespective of the way things were when I left that warehouse.

We're alone. Benedict dropped me off and made sure I was okay, then he returned to the warehouse as backup.

My body is in a chokehold. "What if he dies?" I cry out to the void.

"He won't."

Tasha's unwavering faith seems childish to me. She doesn't know Franco.

"How do you know?"

"Matteo is there. And Luca."

"What if it was all a trap?" I can't let go of this feeling that things could still go wrong.

"Then Benedict will go blow the place up."

"God," I huff. "You're more Mafia than me."

"Don't underestimate Matteo." She hitches a brow. "And don't underestimate your husband. The first time I ever laid eyes on Stephano, he killed a man in this very room using only his steel-toed boot."

"Oh, God. This is the guy that had it coming?" I ask with a shudder.

She nods. "You see that massive square tile? I call it Execution Square."

I sink down on the sofa next to her and reach for her hand. It's easy to forget that Tasha's catapult into this family is so recent. "I don't want to know. Spare me the details."

She grips my hand and I follow her gaze to the square tile.

"Okay." Now that I see it, I can't unsee it.

The massive square tile would be so easy to clean. I recall her unease weeks ago when she said she doesn't like hanging out at the second-floor railing. I quiver inside, trying to reconcile in my head the man I love and the man who succumbs to any level of violence and brutality.

"I don't care. That asshole had it coming. Left one of the women who worked for their clubs for dead. Tatiana. She overdosed. Matteo told me what happened to her, and she couldn't live with…" Tasha trails off and starts rocking again.

I ball up next to her.

Franco had it coming too. From the moment Stephano saw Franco's cruelty on my skin, he promised revenge on my behalf. This is Stephano. This is my husband . This is what's in his blood, fueled by what he experienced as a child. To protect and avenge the women he loves. Not only women he loves—he'll protect all women.

Stephano can't see it for himself. I've never for a second felt unsafe with him, and in his arms, there's never been a safer place. Earlier, when he could have gone all out with Franco while we were still there, he had enough control to make sure we were gone before he started. None of us needed to witness what followed.

I drop my head to Tasha's shoulder, and for a long while, we just sit, bound in fate and in the love we have for our men.

"He said he loved me," I sob, tears welling up out of the blue. "And I never had a chance to say it back."

A soft whooshing comes from the front door, and we both look up as footsteps fall seconds later.

"Maybe you can tell him now," Tasha says, but she's already shooting up and running to where Matteo is walking into the apartment.

I'm still in shock at seeing Stephano by his side, not much worse for wear. He's wearing different clothes, but it's still a suit, still so freaking Italian. He looks so handsome, my blood rushes through my veins as a blush flushes my cheeks.

Tasha flings herself into Matteo's arms and he catches her, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist.

"Thank God," she calls out, and then all sound is muffled as she cries into his neck.

To have Tasha's confidence…to know this thing between Stephano and me isn't fake. To know this marriage doesn't have divorce written all over it now that Franco is dead. And yes, I can see he's dead by the look in my husband's eyes.

My darling, beautiful wife. I love you.

The memory of his words rockets me out of my seat, and I fling myself at him before anything else can hold me back.

He laughs as he catches me, and my body molds to his as I wrap my arms around him, my legs hugging his hips. His hands clasp my butt in support, hitching me high enough so I can look into his eyes.

"Hey, angel."

"What took you so long?" I ask, crying openly now. I sob and hide in his neck, still struggling to believe he's alive and real and here .

"We waited for the cleaning crew, and then I had to clean up, too, so I went home."

"Home? Like in your apartment?"

"Home like in our apartment," he whispers in my ear.

I cling to him as he walks us to the sofa. Matteo and Tasha are walking up the stairs, and Matteo hugs his wife close, whispering calming words to her.

Stephano lowers down to sit and makes me straddle him. He winces, but it's barely audible.

"Where are you hurt?" I ask, sweeping my hands over his cheeks, down his shoulders and his pecs. There's a swollen bruise on his cheekbone and one by his eyebrow on the other side. I reach for his hands and inspect them. They're covered in bandages, so I can't see the full extent of his hurt. "Did you break anything?"

"No, for the first time in my life, I think…I feel whole."

I blink at him, at the raw openness in his gaze.

"God, I love you," I whisper as I lean in and kiss him.

He kisses me back, and it's intense as his hands slide to my back, and then he clings to me as if I'm as much his lifeline as he is mine. As I draw away to catch a breath, all I can do is murmur, "Thank you."

"No. No thank yous. I'll do anything for you, angel, you know that, right? I'll do what I did this afternoon a thousand times over for you. To keep you safe. To rid the world of men like Franco."

Men like Don Scalera.

My heart breaks and heals at the same time, and I nod as I lean my forehead to his. "Still."

"Just say it again."

I pull an inch away so I can look into his eyes, making sure I understand what he needs. "I love you."

He brushes my cheek with his thumb. "I love you, too. I'd go on one knee, but I'm kinda trapped right now."

"One knee? I'm hurting you?" I'm very comfortable like this, his hand on my hip, squeezing possessively.

"No, Gigi." He smiles. "I never got to ask you because I was full of shit, but I want this to be real. Marry me? Again? Just for ourselves. To make it real this time."

I swallow at the pebble in my throat. "I'll marry you a thousand times if that's what you want. If that's what you need."

He kisses me then, and I sink into his body and into his love. After a long, hot minute, I pull away, his hands already underneath my shirt, cupping my breasts.

"If it's safe, take me home, Stephano."

"It's safe, angel. From now on, it will always be safe." He smirks. "Let's go. I don't think Matteo's sofa is up to us in any case."

I giggle. That's a promise, and if there is one man in the world who keeps all the promises he makes, it's this one. And he's mine.