24. Damien

TWENTY-FOUR

DAMIEN

GENEVIEVE

O ne bonus to being five years younger than Cross plus a professional ballerina, even if I’m a little rusty? I’m quick and I’m fast and I dance out of his reach before he can try to convince me that going downstairs and confronting Damien is probably not the smartest thing to do right now.

Of course it is. Wait? Me? Oh, no. Besides, with Damien bellowing like a wounded rhino out there, I should go see him before someone puts him out of his misery.

Main Street isn’t open after dark. I’m not too worried about Cross’s neighbors hearing my brother, but as annoyed as I am with him, I still care for him greatly. He’s not just my brother. He’s the head of the Dragonflies. He might have a truce with the Sinners, but what if some other enterprising gangster takes advantage of Damien being on Sinners turf, searching for me?

I know he’s not an idiot. If he’s here, odds are he either has Savannah or Vin with him.

Both, it turns out. Savannah is sitting in the front seat of Dame’s flashy red Maserati, with Vin’s legs up almost by his ears as the big guy is cramped into the back.

Damien is waiting outside of the studio, tapping his foot on the sidewalk as I struggle to get the door unlocked. By the time I do, Cross has caught up with me, but he knows better than to get involved as I march outside of his studio to confront Damien.

Nope. Like Savannah and Vin, Cross is my backup.

“Damien Libellula.” I perch my hands on my hips, glaring up at my older brother. Like always, his hair is perfectly styled, highlighting that silver streak of his. He’s wearing another of his expensively tailored suits, like this is just another business meet for the head Dragonfly, instead of a worried brother coming after his sister. But that’s the thing… how did he find me? “You swore that you wouldn’t put one of those stupid trackers in me.”

Unless Savannah snitched. I glance over at her, knowing that my voice carried enough that, through the open window, she could hear me. She gives me an answering shrug and rolls her eyes at Damien’s back.

I stifle a chuckle. Hey. She’s the one who chose to marry him.

Clearing his throat, Damien pulls my attention back to him. He gives me a pointed look. “You swore that I wouldn’t have to worry about my sister sneaking out anymore.”

I jut my chin at him. “I didn’t sneak anywhere. If you were checking our previous cameras, Dame, you would’ve seen me strolling on out to meet Christopher at the gate.”

Damien raises one eyebrow. “Would that be the same Christopher who hung onto his job by the skin of his teeth after he came to me and admitted that you went missing the first time? Or the Christopher who called me up when he discovered you slipped out of the Devil’s Playground tonight?”

Oh. That’s how he found me.

I can’t even get pissed at Christopher. It’s bad enough he had to take the fall for years of my risky behavior, but after Damien gave him a second chance, I should’ve known that he’d go running to my brother the second he couldn’t find me.

Whoops. I guess I was too busy getting banged by Cross to remember that Christopher was my ride tonight. When I disappeared right after I waved him off after Cross found me dancing with another man, it wouldn’t take a genius to realize I left with him.

Where else would we go? Since Cross owns the tattoo parlor and lives above it, it was a pretty safe bet we’d have gone here.

Does that mean Damien had to head across the city to confront us?

He takes in my mussed hair, wrinkled shirt, and crooked shorts. His gaze travels over Cross’s unbuttoned jeans and shirtless chest.

My brother is forty . I remember telling him after I accidentally walked in on him and Savannah that first time, I never expected him to be a virgin at his big age. Thanks to Winter being a voyeuristic freak with a mean streak, Damien knows I’m not a virgin anymore, either. Even if he tried to pretend that that first time didn’t count—since, look at him, the thought of his baby sister getting laid is turning his tanned complexion a little bit green—the scent of sex clinging to us, coupled with our obvious states of undress and… yeah.

We were fucking like bunnies earlier tonight, and Damien knows it.

Hell. If he hadn’t interrupted us, we might’ve been well on our way to round two.

All the more reason to send him on his merry way.

“Well, you found me. I’m perfectly safe. Look.” I gesture at myself. “Managed not to get kidnapped by one of your enemies and tossed in a cell, left to rot unless I fucked my cellmate.” Okay. Maybe I’m still really pissed that Damien turned Cross against my ‘for my own good’. “Aren’t you proud?”

Damien winces. He doesn’t even pull the old ‘pinch the bridge of his nose’ move and sigh like usual. The distinguished mafia leader winces , and I just don’t care.

I dare him to answer. Again, he clears his throat, and then his icy blue gaze lands on Cross.

“Butterfly,” Damien says thoughtfully. He nods at Cross’s chest. “Looks fresh compared to the others.”

“Fresh enough,” Cross agrees. “But it was a long time coming.”

“Mm.” He turns to me again. “Sorellina.”

Little sister.

Yeah. I know. That’s what I’ve always been to Damien.

“Fratello,” I retort.

Brother . It’s about all the Italian I know, and mainly because of how often Damien called me ‘sorellina’ when I was younger. But that’s the key word there: younger. I will always be fifteen years his junior. That doesn’t mean I didn’t grow up.

I did—and whether he likes it or not, it’s time he realizes that.

Damien can see something shift in my expression. He gives his head a royal shake, then gestures toward the car. “Come. We’re going home.”

The hell we are.

At my side, Cross stiffens. His expression is closed-off, but I look at his eyes and I see resignation. I challenged him to reject me again on his terms, whether he realized I did or not, by showing up at the Devil’s Playground. Did I know that he’d be there? Actually, I doubted he would be. But after everything that happened with Johnny Winter, I figured that there’d be more than a few Sinners lurking around the nightclub who would recognize me and jump to be the one to tell Cross that I was there.

It worked, too.

Part of me guessed that Damien was the reason behind Cross’s sudden silence. Cross admitted as much. But then he promised me forever, and backed it up with the reveal of the butterfly on his chest.

The least I can do is accept it.

I step back lightly on my feet, grabbing his bicep. “No. I’m staying here. With Cross.”

Damien firms his jaw. “Genevieve.”

“I said no, Damien.” I squeeze Cross’s arm. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m twenty-five-years-old. If I want to spend the night at my boyfriend’s house, I’m going to do that. Unless you’d rather I take my boyfriend home with me?”

“Boyfriend,” murmurs Cross.

“Okay. Boyfriend does sound kind of juvenile,” I admit. “But I thought, if I said ‘lover’, Damien might blow a gasket. Besides, you’re the first boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“The only boyfriend you’ll ever have,” he interjects.

I laugh. Now how did I know that would be his reaction. “Right. Still, I’ve never got to use the term before. Let me have it for now.”

Cross sighs in almost mock resignation. “I guess it’ll do until you call me ‘husband’.”

I kiss his butterfly, and for a second, I completely forget that Damien is still standing right there. It’s usually so hard to ignore his presence, but over the years, I’ve had some practice at it. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, I made my stance very clear. I’m not going anywhere with Damien.

Not now.

Not until I forget how stinking pissed I am at him.

Knowing my moods, that won’t take long, but for fuck’s sake? Can’t he at least let me have tonight?

Seems like that answer is actually yes .

“Well. It seems as if I might’ve interrupted something that I would’ve much preferred not to interrupt. In that case, I’ll leave you two to it. But Genevieve? I expect you home tomorrow for dinner.”

I try not to let my smile widen too much. “I need studio time. Don’t forget, I have that new company to audition for. Remember, Savannah? Riverside? So I’ll be home early and I’ll stick around—but only if Cross can eat with us.”

Damien exhales. “If he must. But just dinner. If you want to spend the night with your… boyfriend, then you can do so here.”

“It’s called fucking, honey,” calls out Savannah.

“Thank you, cara mia,” responds Damien. “And just to prove that your husband hasn’t forgotten the world at all, I’ll make sure to lead you right to the bedroom once we’re home again.”

Vin groans. “Can you drop me off at Il Sogno first? I could use a glass of wine before I pretend like I’m not the only Libellula not getting laid tonight.”

“I think that can be arranged, Vin. Especially since it seems as though I was a little hasty to think Genny needed another rescue.” He smiles indulgently at me as he reaches the driver’s side, then nods at Cross. “In fact, I’d be more concerned about her young man here.”

Cross’s arm lowers, draping around my waist as he tugs me close to him. “I think I can handle her.”

Savannah’s husky laugh carries over to us on the still night air. “That’s what he thought, too.”

As Damien lets himself into the car, head shaking even as he immediately grabs for Savannah’s hand, I can’t help but grin.

If my relationship with Cross ends up half as strong as the one Damien found in his would-be murderess, I might just get my happily-ever-after.