Chapter 19

nineteen

KITANIA

The knife trembled in my hand as I chopped the onions, and I sucked in a deep breath to steady myself so I wouldn’t slip and cut one of my fingers. Every tiny creak of the penthouse or unidentified noise, like the distant thump from Beretta playing with a toy down the hall, had my heartbeat stuttering.

Rationally, I knew they were just normal sounds, but my nerves were stretched as taut as piano wire, ready to snap.

I felt Giovanni’s eyes on me as I cooked, tracking my every movement. Though his gaze was intense, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, I found his attentiveness sweet and reassuring, if anything.

“You don’t have to worry. The security measures here are ironclad,” he promised from where he sat at the kitchen island, easily picking up on the stressed notes of my scent that lifted into the air. “No one’s getting in here. You’re safe with me, I promise.”

I nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

All the guys had said the same before they left, explaining that they were only leaving Gio behind as extra precaution so they wouldn’t worry so much and could focus on what they had to do.

I wanted to believe them, but the dread swirling in my gut made it difficult. And it wasn’t just me I was worried about, either. My mind raced with concern for Dimitri and the others, out there facing God knows what danger. Because of me.

To distract myself, I focused on cooking, the familiar motions grounding me. I was making a hearty shepherd’s pie topped with creamy mashed potatoes, something to warm everyone up when they returned. I made it exactly the way my mother always had. She’d loved to cook, and I’d carted her recipe book with me from foster home to foster home after she was gone. It was one of the few things I had left of her—or it had been until I’d been kidnapped.

Now, I had to work from memory.

My thoughts strayed to my room at the OMA, wondering if they’d kept any of my stuff when I’d disappeared. Thankfully, I knew most of the recipes by heart after years of recreating them, but that didn’t replace the sentimentality of seeing my mom’s handwriting scrawled across the old paper of each recipe card.

Grief panged in my chest, the familiar pain more potent today after my conversation with Dimitri earlier.

He had pulled me aside before he left, taking the time to explain what was going on. He’d told me plainly what had happened to Nick, though I had the feeling he’d spared me some of the more gruesome details. While it meant the world to me that he valued me enough to confide in me, my heart was heavy for the loss of his friend.

If there was any silver lining to be found, it was that Dimitri’s blunt honesty showed the trust he had in me. My Alpha believed I was strong enough to hear the truth, and I wanted to prove him right, to handle the news with grace and fortitude.

But guilt gnawed at me relentlessly.

Nick would still be alive if Dimitri hadn’t sent him to hunt down the Valentinos because of me . An innocent man was dead, and their friend Enzo was missing, all because they were trying to avenge me.

My eyes burned, and I angrily swiped at them with my sleeve. I couldn’t fall apart, not now. My Alphas had done so much for me, so I had to be strong. I owed them that. But it was hard knowing that Rocco and Vincent were still out there. That one of my Alphas could be their next victim.

Working to pull myself together, I focused on browning the meat, letting the familiar scents of garlic and rosemary soothe me. Cooking had always been cathartic. An escape. I dumped the beef broth into the pot and brought it to a simmer before adding chopped mint and peas. All the while, my potatoes cooked, and when they were ready, I drained them and mashed them with more vigor than they called for.

The workout did little to unknot the tension in my shoulders or vent my frustration. Guilt and anxiety were a bitch to shake. Almost as much as the fear over my Alphas’ safety.

Giovanni, who’d stayed home with me, approached just as I was spooning the shepherd’s pie into a ceramic dish before topping it with the mashed potatoes. The savory aroma of the meat and vegetables was mouthwatering, and my stomach grumbled, reminding me I’d barely eaten all day thanks to my nonexistent appetite.

“That smells amazing, Dolcezza,” Giovanni murmured, his deep baritone sending a shiver straight down my spine.

I flashed him a small smile over my shoulder as I slid the dish into the oven. “It’s my mother’s recipe. Shepherd’s pie was my favorite growing up.”

“I look forward to trying it.” Gio’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back at me.

Timer set, I turned to face him fully, my heart skipping a beat at the sight of him casually leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. He’d changed into a soft-looking black Henley that stretched across his shoulders and biceps, the fabric clinging to every hard, delineated muscle.

Heat bloomed in my cheeks and I quickly averted my gaze, busying myself with cleaning up the mess I’d made.

“It’ll be ready soon,” I told him, my voice wavering slightly as it finally registered that we were alone together for the first time. “I figured making dinner is the least I can do to thank you for staying with me when I’m sure you’d rather be out with your brothers. Besides, I thought you might be hungry.”

Gio smirked, his mouth slanted sinfully. “I am, though not just for food.” His tone dropped an octave, and my pulse quickened.

God , how I reacted to this man.

Focusing on rinsing the pan, I tried to ignore the blatant innuendo. Gio was dangerously charming without even trying. And I was dangerously attracted to him, despite the fact that I was a mess of an Omega and far from worthy of his attention.

Gio’s smile fell, and he cocked his head, that all-knowing stare of his boring into me again. “How are you holding up?” he asked, seemingly concerned by whatever he’d seen cross my face.

I stilled, the cookware forgotten in my hands as I stared unseeingly into the sink. “I’m… managing.” Though it was a lackluster confession, the words still felt like sandpaper in my throat.

A warm hand settled on my shoulder and I jumped, whirling around to find Gio standing right behind me, his hazel eyes filled with understanding. “This isn’t your fault, Kitania. None of it is. And my brothers are going to be fine.”

Tears welled up, but I blinked rapidly, determined not to let them fall. “I know that. Logically, I do. But I can’t help but feel responsible. Nick is dead because of me. Your friend is missing because of me —”

“No,” Gio cut me off firmly, his hands coming up to cup my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. “Nick is dead because of the Valentinos. Enzo is missing because of the Valentinos. Not you. You are not to blame for the fucked up actions of others. You’re a victim in this just as much as they are.”

A sob caught in my throat and I squeezed my eyes shut. Gio pulled me into him, one hand cupping the back of my head while the other ran soothingly up and down my back. I buried my face in his chest, breathing in the comforting scent of earth and musk while I let his strength seep into me.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, kissing my hair. “You’re not alone in this, Kitania. We’re going to take care of everything, and we’ll get through it all together.”

I gave him a small nod, not trusting myself to speak. We stayed like that for a long moment, just holding each other, until the timer beeped, startling us apart.

Wiping hastily at my eyes, I turned back to the stove, slipped on oven mitts, and took out the bubbling pie. The cheesy, savory aroma made me groan in appreciation, and my stomach grumbled again.

“Perfect timing.” Giovanni walked over to the cupboard and pulled out two plates.

We dished up heaping servings and settled at the kitchen island, sitting side by side. It was casual, and just what I needed to take the pressure off our first solo dinner together.

Gio took a big bite, closing his eyes and humming appreciatively. “This is fuckin’ amazing.”

I ducked my head shyly, warmth suffusing me at the compliment. “I’m glad you like it.”

“What’s not to like? A beautiful woman who cooks as well as Gordon Ramsey?” he winked at me playfully before sobering. “Truly. This is delicious. Thanks for cooking.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

He raised an eyebrow at me sardonically. “I think I’ve said the same thing to you a time or two.”

“Fair enough.” I smirked before shoveling another small bite into my mouth. I hummed in happiness. “But honestly, it’s the least I can do after everything you and your brothers have done for me.”

An unhappy rumble that bordered on a growl resonated in Gio’s chest. Setting down his utensils, he placed his hand over mine, stilling my movements. “Kitania, look at me.”

I lifted my gaze to his, my breath catching at the intensity I found there.

“We didn’t save you expecting anything in return,” he said firmly. “We did it because it was the right thing to do. Because none of us could stand by and watch an innocent Omega suffer. Our mother was an Omega. So is my sister. We may be assholes in most aspects of our lives, but we value women. Our plan was always to rescue you and give you your life back. Finding out you’re our scent match? It changed things.” He squeezed my hand. “It’s a fucking gift that we found you. Every single one of us wants to take care of you and make you smile. We bought you clothing because you needed it, and our Alpha sides are brutish bastards who wanted to prove to you we could provide for you.” Gio shook his head slightly. “Nothing we’ve done was for personal gain. There is no debt that you owe. No trouble you need to atone for through actions or apologies. We do it because we…” he trailed off, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

My heart threatened to beat out of my chest. “Because you what?” I whispered.

His grip on my hand tightened. “I was going to say we do it because we care about you, but it’s more than that. So much more.” His eyes dropped to my lips before meeting my gaze again, molten heat simmering there.

I fought the urge to lean into him, to close the scant distance between us, to give in to the desires that had plagued me since we met.

Instead, I interlaced our fingers. “I care about you, too.”