“What does that mean? Did Marzio already make his decision?”
“No, baby. He didn’t. But nothing is ever certain with them, unless we have their word first.”
I honestly didn't know what he was going to do, but Rocco and I had our suspicions as to why he chose a nontraditional way to handle the terms of our wagers. I didn't want to get her hopes up though.
Marzio was known as a fierce soldier, but he was also a fierce romantic. Or so Tito Sala had told me. The old doctor was his right-hand man, his good-faith council.
“You almost seem…tempted,” she said, the tone of her voice cautious. Those exotic cat eyes narrowed, studying me like she wrote the book and knew my character better than I did.
I grabbed for the crystal filled with whiskey. “You poured this for me.”
“Yes.”
I downed it, putting it back on the counter. I kept a splash of it in my mouth, and when I kissed her, her tongue twirled with mine, taking some of it for her own. I took her hand, guiding it down, wanting her to touch me, to feel how much I wanted her.
“Mmm,” she said, the vibration against my lips making my muscles tremble with restraint. “The nuts!” She shot away from me, going for the cabinet.
I felt the loss of her bone-deep—the connection severed; the closest feeling to compare it to was if she were to pull away a nanosecond before I came inside of her.
“Scar—” I went to reach out, to warn her. She always forgot.
Too late, the cabinet came down with a heavydunkagainst her head.
She cursed and put a hand to the spot to stop the stinging. We looked at each other, the silence thick, before we both started laughing. But I went to her, picking her up and putting her down on the counter.
“My poor baby,” I said, kissing the small bump. “I’m going to kill that door.”
She became quiet, her glistening eyes hard on mine, yet the look was soft, like she was falling in love. “No, don't kill it,” she whispered.
“For you, I’ll fix it instead.” I kissed the spot again.
“Yes, let's fix it.”
“Right now.”
She laughed. “Or we might forget?”
I groaned, going to get my tools, but I stopped at the door. She didn't think I listened or paid attention to the small things about her. I always did. “You forgot to tell me something,” I echoed the song playing.
It took her a moment, but when dawned called, she answered with a brilliant smile. “I love you.”
“We’re not finished here,” I said.
“Promise?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Scarlett
He truly had no idea how much it meant to me that the cabinet was fixed. It took him no time, and I watched as he opened and closed it, making sure that my head was safe from any further attacks.
At this juncture, I was lucky not to have brain damage.
“There,” he said, staring at it with pride. “All fixed,mia moglie.”
“Thank you, my angel. You saved me from potential head trauma. I have no idea how I make it without you.”
All of a sudden, I was possessed by something I couldn't understand. A playful angel beating her wings around us, perhaps. My hands were knuckle-deep in dough. I released them, flicking a dangling piece at his head. It connected and stuck. The look on his face was so comical that I snorted, my hands coming down with a slap against my silk slip. Clothes were not important to me, and if a stain or two happened, I chalked it up to collected memories—proof that time had existed.
