"Packing can wait," he says.
When his lips touch mine, everything else fades away. The kiss starts gentle, almost reverent, but quickly deepens into something urgent and consuming. My hands slide up his arms to his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength beneath my fingertips as I pull him closer.
I zip up my small overnight bag, still wondering where Damiano plans to take me. He's been mysteriously tight-lipped about our weekend destination, only telling me to pack casual clothes and a swimsuit.
The door opens and Damiano strides in, looking relaxed in dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that shows off his muscular build. My heart skips a beat - even after everything we've been through, he still has this effect on me.
"Ready to go, lupacchiotta?" His eyes sparkle with mischief.
"You know, you could just tell me where we're going." I cross my arms, trying to look stern despite the smile tugging at my lips.
"And ruin the surprise?" He picks up my bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "Not a chance."
"At least give me a hint?" I follow him out of the room, my hand automatically finding its way into his free one.
"Hmm." He pretends to consider it. "You'll need that swimsuit I told you to pack."
"That's not a hint! You already told me that yesterday."
His deep laugh echoes through the hallway. "Patience isn't your strong suit, is it?"
"Not when someone's being deliberately mysterious." I bump his shoulder playfully with mine.
We head downstairs where Daniel waits by the front door. The morning sun streams through the windows, promising a beautiful day ahead. My excitement builds - wherever we're going, it'll be just the two of us, away from family obligations and business matters.
"The car's ready, boss," Daniel says, opening the door for us.
Damiano guides me outside with his hand on the small of my back. A sleek black Mercedes waits in the driveway, its engine purring quietly.
"No security detail?" I ask, surprised.
"Just us this weekend." He opens the passenger door for me. "Though I did have the location thoroughly checked beforehand."
Of course he did. I slide into the leather seat, watching as he walks around to the driver's side. It's rare to see him drive himself - another sign this weekend is meant to be special.
He settles behind the wheel, starting the car with a smooth rumble. "Ready for an adventure?"
I reach over and squeeze his thigh. "With you? Always."
"Jersey Shore?" I ask, trying to figure out our destination.
Damiano just smirks, his eyes on the road.
The Mercedes slows as we pull into a private drive lined with tall pines. The trees part to reveal a stunning beach house perched on a small bluff, with weathered cedar siding and massive windows facing the ocean. It's not what I expected at all - not some palatial mansion, but something intimate and relaxed.
"What is this place?" I ask, my voice soft with surprise.
"Mine," Damiano says simply, parking the car. "Or ours now, I suppose."
I step out of the car, breathing in the salt air. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing fills my ears, and a cool breeze tugs at my hair. This doesn't feel like the kind of property a mafia don would own. It feels... normal. Special.
"I've never heard you mention this house before," I say as Damiano retrieves our bags.
"Because I never bring anyone here." He moves beside me, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. "This is where I come when I need to escape everything. No business, no family obligations. Just... peace."
My heart tightens. The significance isn't lost on me - Damiano rarely shows this side of himself to anyone.
"It's beautiful," I whisper, genuinely touched.
