Her eyes move past me and stop. I turn to see Stefano watching. He stares at Alessia, and she stares back at him. “Ba.”
He freezes when she leans forward. Her hands open and close in a clear demand. “Ba!”
“I think she wants you.” I bite my lip to hide my smile as he stiffens.
“I don’t…,” he clears his throat. “I’ve never held a baby.”
But he reaches out for her, and she says it again as he lifts her, settling her against his large chest. His hand is large enoughto cover her entire back as she buries her face into his shirt, smearing sauce over it. A small yawn sounds. “Ba.”
Dante frowns. “Like I said. No taste.”
I scowl at him, but he looks unrepentant. Across from me, Gio smirks. “What did you say about being the… what was it…favorite uncle, Morelli?”
Luc narrows his eyes. “Eighteen years is a long time,Fusco. She’ll come back to me. Won’t you,cuoricino?”
Stefano’s voice is a low, uncertain rumble. “She’s…ah, asleep.”
My eyes slide over them all. At Stefano, with Alessia curled up against his chest. At Gio and Luc as they rib each other. And at Dante, who glances at the door before looking back to me. “Go. We’ve got her. Or… Asante has, it seems.”
Slowly, I push my chair back. “Gio… where are my knives?”
One of us is missing, and I’m not going to let him hide away.
11 – Domenico
Iflex my hands again. Glance down at the array of scars that cover my knuckles in layers of broken, battered skin. Some are older. And some… some are more recent.
One deep red gouge opens up as the skin stretches, a bead of blood trailing down my hand. It looks almost black in the cool darkness of the room, the curtains pulled shut to block out the warmth of the sun.
As I’m trying to block out… everything.
The knock on the door has my head jerking up. Ignoring it, I wait for them to leave. But it only comes again.
Again. Louder this time.
Her voice rings out. “I’m not going anywhere, Domenico Rossi. Answer the fucking door.”
I purse my lips. Wait her out. The door is locked.
My brows dip down at the scraping sound. Then the bang. Several of them, one after the other.
And my door… opens. Splinters of wood rain down against the floor.
Cat stalks inside, meeting my glare with one of her own. “Why are you on the floor?”
My jaw clenches as I take in the knife she twirls between her fingers. “Heard of privacy?”
“Youneverwant privacy.” Her eyes travel over me. Over my bare, battered skin, the towel around my waist as I sit on the floor against the wall. “Not from me.”
I stiffen as she pauses in front of me. “Cat – just leave me alone.”
She doesn’t leave. She drops to her knees instead, her eyes running over my body, and I inhale sharply as her fingers reach out and brush against one of the bruises on my neck. She doesn’t say anything, only tracing the shape before she moves on to the next.
The next.
And the next, her lips moving although I can’t hear the words.
I stay silent, watching her.
