31. Davide

It'd been a long time since I last told that story and spilling it that way was cathartic. Once she understood what had happened to me, I could tell a lot suddenly made more sense. Especially why I don't like tight, enclosed spaces.

I make plans with Simon and my father. We bring in some of the other Capos and more of our trusted lieutenants. Elena asks me what's going on, and even Angelo wants to discuss everything when he calls from prison, but we decided to keep everything in a very tight circle.

"I have a surprise for you," I tell Stefania about a week after Santoro's call. We're walking down the oasis together, holding hands. It's strangely natural, though a month ago I wouldn't have been able to imagine this level of intimacy with her. Fucking her was one thing—but strolling along like an actual married couple seemed absurd.

And now here we are, walking around like a couple of middle-class yuppies on the prowl for frozen yogurt.

"Let me guess. We're moving to Canada? You decided to learn French because you've always dreamed of becoming Quebecois?"

"Oui," I say and wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Although honestly, if I was going to go live in a foreign country, it wouldn't be Canada. Imagine living in a place so boring you actually decide to care about hockey?"

"Unthinkable," she agrees, rolling her eyes. "The height of horror. Socialized medicine? Might as well kill me now."

"No, this is a more personal surprise." I steer her into the house and toward the stairs. "Any more guesses?"

"Uh, well, the way you're looking at me makes me think it's something, uh, intimate." Her cheeks turn pink, which is both the cutest and the sexiest fucking thing, because I'm very sure she's having impure thoughts.

"Yes, darling, I purchased some silk ropes and I plan on leaving you tied to the bed. You'll be my little sex doll captive."

She shivers. "Seriously?"

"No. Not seriously. Although I do have silk ropes if you're interested?"

She licks her lips, the filthy little animal. "Another time."

"I'll keep that in mind." I squeeze her ass and kiss her neck. She laughs and fights me off.

"Surprise, baby. I want the surprise." She's positively beaming, which makes me smile back. I love when she's happy.

"If you don't like it, don't worry. It doesn't have to be permanent." I lead her up to the third floor and open her office door. "But I saw it and thought of you."

She steps inside and her hands fly to her mouth.

Her Ikea desk is gone. In its place is a beautiful mahogany executive tanker, the wood gleaming and perfectly refinished. The hardware is all original and polished to a gleam. Intricate wood inlays decorate the front and sides, the sort of hand-finished craftsmanship that doesn't exist anymore.

"Where did you get that?" she asks, running her fingers over the huge top.

"The estate of a very wealthy former chemicals CEO."

"I'm guessing I don't want to ask what this cost."

"No, baby, you don't, but you're worth it. I know I haven't gotten you a job yet like I promised, but this is proof that I'm still trying. I will find you something you love, something that's worthy of you, I swear, and when you're working here I want you to feel like a fucking queen."

She stares at the desk—then covers her face with her hands and starts sobbing.

Which is not the reaction I expected.

Maybe some happy tears, sure, a little laughter, fine, but she's crying like she just found out her entire family has super-cancer.

I'm not sure how to react at first before going to her and wrapping her in a big hug. "If you don't like it, your old desk is in the other room."

"No, it's not that," she says through the tears, then starts crying harder.

"Shit," I say, hugging her tightly. "I'm new at this, baby. Tell me what I did."

"You didn't do anything," she says, hiccupping once before wiping her face. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I don't know why I just did that. It's just, you've been so freaking nice to me, you've been so accommodating and kind when maybe I don't really deserve it, and I just stood here staring at this beautiful desk and thought about how it's such a nice gesture, but also I won't ever be able to repay you." She looks up, completely distraught. "Because I can't get you things, Davide. I have no money, and anyway, you live like a freaking monk, you barely have any stuff?—"

"Baby," I say, peppering her face with kisses and wiping away her tears. "Oh, Stef, you think I give a shit about that?"

"Maybe you don't, but I do." She tries to pull away, but I grab her hips and lift her up, sitting her down on top of the desk. She wriggles, but I hold her tight.

"Listen to me," I say, staring hard at her. "No, don't make a face, just listen. I don't want things. This marriage has been harder for you than it has been for me, because you're the one that was uprooted and dragged out to live with a bunch of strangers. I'm keenly aware of that, and yes, I've tried to accommodate you the best I could."

"You gave me walls. You hate walls." She chews her lower lip. "I'm sorry. This is so pathetic, isn't it?"

"You're not pathetic. I understand what you're saying, but I need you to believe me when I say that it doesn't matter. I don't need anything from you. I'm already happy."

She goes quiet. I take the chance to wipe away the rest of her tears before licking them off my fingers. She shakes her head, fighting off a smile, and I grin fiercely at her.

"You're a sicko," she whispers.

I lean forward and lick her cheek. "You're damn right."

"You're really happy though?"

"A happy, sick fucking freak." I kiss her throat and hold on to her hips. "Does that scare you?"

She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me, slow and deep. I growl into her mouth, tasting her tongue, loving the way she whimpers in response, her whole body reacting to me.

Every time I look at this girl, I see something new, something good. She's precious, she's beautiful. She's the light that keeps away the worst of my demons. I didn't even know a person could make me feel this way. If I have any strength in me, it's because she makes me want to dredge it up—she makes me want to be better, to stand taller, to fight harder.

"I want to take this seriously," she whispers, breaking off the kiss before I can fucking devour her.

"That's good, because I am seriously about to fuck you into a gooey mess right here on your new desk."

She grins huge but shakes her head. "No, not that. I mean, yes, please do that, but I was talking about our marriage."

That makes me pause. "You want to take it seriously?"

"Yes." She bites her lip again. "I mean, if you want to. I want to do this for real. You know what I mean?"

I nod and kiss her. "I know what you mean."

"Well? What do you think? Do you want to do this with me? You don't have to, I was just thinking?—"

I kiss her again, taking my time, because she doesn't realize that I've been serious about this from the fucking start.

"Yes, baby," I whisper as I pull off her shirt. She shivers, smiling like she just won the jackpot on a scratcher. "I want to do this for real. With you and only you."

"You really know how to make a girl special. You're only saying that because you want to see my tits."

"I don't need to say a damn thing to see them." I unhook her bra and latch my lips onto one of her stiff nipples to prove a point. "I want you, Stefania. Do you believe me?"

"Yes," she whispers as I kiss up to her mouth again, biting her and making them puckered and beautiful.

"I want you. I want this. And I'm going to have both."

"Right now?" she asks, wriggling her hips, all nice and eager.

"Right now," I confirm.

And I fuck her into a sticky, gooey mess right here on the top of her new, fancy desk, as promised.