11. Aftermath

CHAPTER 11

AFTERMATH

The steady beep of the heart monitor was a comforting rhythm in the otherwise silent hospital room. Damien sat vigil by Antonio's bedside, his large hand engulfing the younger man's smaller one. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, evidence of sleepless nights spent watching over his injured boy.

Antonio's eyelids fluttered, a soft groan escaping his lips as he fought his way back to consciousness. Damien leaned forward, heart racing.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, voice rough with emotion. "Come back to me."

Finally, those stormy eyes opened, unfocused at first but quickly sharpening as they landed on Damien. A myriad of emotions flashed across Antonio's face—confusion, relief, and something deeper that made Damien's breath catch.

"Damien?" Antonio's voice was barely a whisper, hoarse from disuse. "What... where am I?"

Damien's thumb traced soothing circles on Antonio's palm. "You're safe, sweetheart. In the hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

Antonio's brow furrowed as he struggled to piece together the fragments of memory. "Rizzo... the warehouse. You came for me."

The simple statement, filled with wonder and disbelief, made Damien's chest ache. "Of course I did," he said fiercely. "I'll always come for you, Antonio. Always."

Tears welled in Antonio's eyes, whether from pain or emotion, Damien couldn't tell. "I thought... I was afraid you wouldn't..."

Damien brought Antonio's hand to his lips, pressing a fervent kiss to his knuckles. "Never doubt that again, you hear me? You're mine, baby boy. And I protect what's mine."

A flush crept up Antonio's neck at the possessive words, his pupils dilating slightly. But before he could respond, a spasm of pain crossed his face. He tried to curl in on himself, a whimper escaping through gritted teeth.

Damien was on his feet in an instant, hitting the call button for the nurse. "Shh, I know it hurts," he soothed, one large hand carding gently through Antonio's curls. "Daddy's got you. Just breathe through it, that's my good boy."

The term of endearment slipped out without thought, but its effect on Antonio was immediate. He melted into Damien's touch, his breathing evening out as he focused on the older man's voice.

"That's it," Damien murmured, continuing to stroke Antonio's hair. "Such a brave boy for Daddy. I'm so proud of you, baby."

Antonio's eyes fluttered closed, a soft, needy sound escaping him. "Daddy," he breathed, the word half-plea, half-surrender.

The moment was broken by the arrival of the nurse, who efficiently checked Antonio's vitals and administered a dose of pain medication. As she left, Damien saw the walls coming back up behind Antonio's eyes, uncertainty replacing the vulnerable trust of moments before.

"I should... my mother will want to know I'm awake," Antonio said, not quite meeting Damien's gaze.

Damien nodded, tamping down the surge of possessiveness that threatened to overwhelm him. "Of course. I'll let her know."

As he stepped out to make the call, Damien couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

***-

The next few days passed in a blur of doctor's visits, pain management, and tentative steps towards recovery. Damien rarely left Antonio's side, tending to his every need with a gentleness that surprised them both.

"You don't have to do this, you know," Antonio grumbled as Damien helped him sit up, plumping pillows behind his back. "I'm not an invalid."

Damien's eyes narrowed, a hint of steel entering his voice. "What you are is injured and in need of care. Now be a good boy and let Daddy take care of you."

The words sent a shiver down Antonio's spine, heat pooling in his belly despite his weakened state. He wanted to protest, to push back against the coddling. But a larger part of him craved the attention, the tender dominance Damien exuded.

"Fine," he muttered, a hint of brattiness creeping into his tone. "But don't think this means you own me or anything."

Damien's laugh was low and dangerous as he leaned in close, his breath hot against Antonio's ear. "Oh, but I do own you, baby boy. Every. Inch."

His hand slid up Antonio's thigh, stopping just shy of where the younger man ached to be touched. Antonio's breath hitched, arousal warring with lingering pain and exhaustion.

"Damien," he whimpered, torn between pushing into the touch and pulling away. "We can't... I'm not..."

"Shh," Damien soothed, pressing a gentle kiss to Antonio's temple. "I know, sweetheart. Not yet. But soon. When you're healed up, Daddy's going to remind you exactly who you belong to."

The promise in those words made Antonio shudder, equal parts anticipation and trepidation coursing through him. He wanted it—God, how he wanted it. But the rational part of his brain, the part not clouded by lust and pain medication, knew they needed to talk. To address the lies and manipulations that had brought them to this point.

Before he could voice his concerns, a knock at the door interrupted the charged moment between them. Vivian Lombardi entered, her sharp eyes taking in the intimate tableau with poorly concealed disapproval.

"Antonio," she said, moving to her son's bedside. "How are you feeling, darling?"

Antonio forced a smile, acutely aware of Damien's hand still resting possessively on his thigh. "Better, Mom. The doctors say I should be able to go home soon."

Vivian's lips thinned at the word 'home,' her gaze flicking to Damien. "Yes, well. About that. I've had the guest room at the compound prepared for your recovery. You'll be much more comfortable there, surrounded by family."

The implication was clear—family that didn't include Damien. Antonio felt the older man stiffen beside him, tension radiating from his large frame.

"That won't be necessary," Damien said, his voice deceptively calm. "Antonio will be coming home with me. I have everything arranged for his care."

Vivian's eyes flashed dangerously. "I hardly think that's appropriate, given the circumstances. Antonio needs to be with his family, not... whatever this is."

"Mom," Antonio started, but Damien cut him off.

"With all due respect, Vivian," he growled, "Antonio is a grown man capable of making his own decisions. And he's chosen to be with me."

The words hung heavy in the air, a gauntlet thrown down. Antonio's heart raced, torn between the fierce protectiveness Damien offered and the familiar pull of family obligation.

"Is that true?" Vivian asked, her gaze boring into Antonio. "Have you chosen... this?"

Antonio swallowed hard, feeling the weight of both Damien and Vivian's expectations pressing down on him. "I... I need time to think," he said finally, hating the weakness in his voice. "This is all happening so fast."

Disappointment flashed across Damien's face, quickly masked by a neutral expression. "Of course," he said stiffly, releasing Antonio's hand and standing. "Take all the time you need. I'll be outside if you want to speak with your mother privately."

As Damien strode out of the room, back ramrod straight, Antonio felt a piece of his heart go with him. But he pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the conversation he knew was coming.

Vivian wasted no time once they were alone. "Antonio, darling, you can't seriously be considering staying with that man. After everything he's done, everything he represents..."

"You don't know him," Antonio protested weakly. "He's not what you think."

Vivian's laugh was bitter. "Oh, I know his type all too well. Men like Damien Benedetti don't change, Antonio. They don't love. They possess, they control, they destroy. Is that really what you want for yourself?"

Antonio closed his eyes, memories of Damien's tenderness warring with the cold, brutal efficiency he'd witnessed. "I don't know what I want anymore," he admitted softly. "I just... I need space. To figure things out."

Vivian nodded, patting his hand. "Of course, darling. And you'll have all the time you need. At home, with your real family."

As she swept out of the room, leaving Antonio alone with his tumultuous thoughts, he felt the walls closing in. The weight of expectations, of family duty and dangerous desire, threatened to suffocate him.

When Damien returned, his face was a mask of careful neutrality. But Antonio could see the tension in his jaw, the barely contained emotion in his eyes.

"So," Damien said, voice deceptively casual. "Have you made your decision?"

Antonio took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation ahead. "I need time, Damien. Away from all of this. From you, from my family... I need to figure out what I really want."

Damien's eyes narrowed, a flicker of hurt quickly replaced by anger. "What you want? I thought that was clear, baby boy. Or was all of that just an act? The way you begged for me, cried out for your Daddy..."

Heat flooded Antonio's cheeks, arousal and shame warring within him. "That's not fair," he snapped. "You can't use that against me. Not when you've been manipulating me from the start."

"Manipulating you?" Damien growled, advancing on the bed. "Is that what you think this is? Some game I'm playing?"

Antonio lifted his chin defiantly, ignoring the way his heart raced at Damien's proximity. "Isn't it? The great Damien Benedetti, seducing the Lombardi heir for his own gain. Tell me, was any of it real? Or was I just a convenient fuck toy to help you take down my family?"

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and cutting. Damien's eyes blazed with a mixture of fury and something deeper, more vulnerable.

"You want to know if it was real?" he snarled, gripping Antonio's chin roughly. "This is real."

He crashed his lips to Antonio's in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperate need. Antonio moaned despite himself, fingers tangling in Damien's shirt as he pulled him closer.

When they finally broke apart, both panting, Damien rested his forehead against Antonio's. "Everything about us is real, baby," he murmured, voice rough with emotion. "The good, the bad, all of it. I love you, you stubborn little brat. Even when you drive me fucking crazy."

Antonio's breath caught at the admission. He wanted to believe it, wanted to throw caution to the wind and give himself over to Damien completely. But the nagging voice of doubt, of self-preservation, held him back.

"I need proof," he whispered. "Not just words or... or mind-blowing sex. I need to know I can trust you, Damien. That this isn't just another power play."

Damien pulled back, jaw clenched. "And how am I supposed to prove that? What do you want from me, Antonio?"

"I don't know!" Antonio cried, frustration bubbling over. "That's why I need time. Space to think without you clouding my judgment every time you touch me."

Hurt flashed across Damien's face, quickly masked by cold anger. "Fine," he bit out. "Take all the time you need. But don't expect me to wait around forever while you figure out if I'm worth the trouble."

The words stung, hitting Antonio's deepest insecurities. "Maybe you shouldn't wait at all," he snapped. "Go find someone else to be your obedient little boy toy. I'm sure there's no shortage of willing victims."

Damien's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful, brat. You're treading on thin ice."

"Or what?" Antonio challenged, recklessness overriding common sense. "You'll punish me? Sorry to burst your bubble, Daddy, but you don't own me. Not anymore."

For a moment, Damien looked like he might actually strike him. But then he stepped back, his face a cold mask. "You're right," he said, voice devoid of emotion. "I don't own you. I never did. Clearly, this was all a mistake."

The finality in his tone sent a chill down Antonio's spine. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He opened his mouth to backtrack, to say something—anything—to fix the chasm opening between them.

But Damien was already turning away, striding towards the door with purpose. "I'll have your things sent to your mother's," he said over his shoulder. "Goodbye, Antonio."

"Damien, wait—" Antonio called, struggling to sit up despite the pain lancing through his side. But it was too late.

The door closed with a quiet click, leaving Antonio alone with the crushing weight of what he'd just done.

As tears began to fall, hot and bitter down his cheeks, Antonio couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life. He'd pushed Damien away, hurt him in ways he wasn't sure could be mended.

And now, faced with the prospect of a life without the man who'd become his entire world, Antonio realized just how deep his feelings ran.

He loved Damien. God help him, he loved that possessive, infuriating, beautiful man with every fiber of his being.

But was it too late? Had he ruined everything in his misguided attempt at self-protection?

As Antonio curled in on himself, body wracked with sobs, he prayed for a chance to make things right. To prove to Damien—and to himself—that what they had was worth fighting for.

Even if it meant going against his family, against everything he'd ever known. Because a life without Damien... it wasn't a life Antonio wanted to contemplate.