"I know," Olivia says when I can't find the right word. "It's scary."
"Was anyone else hurt?"
Olivia nods.
"But we were lucky. It was my brother's wedding and he and Giulia were just walking back up the aisle when the shooting started. They escaped unhurt."
I hadn't known until now that it was Giulia's wedding. A weight presses down on me as I realize I must have misread the whole situation at the club. Adamo Gianotti must have posed some threat to Giulia for Damiano to react the way he did.
The fact he was involved in an attack on her wedding proves I made a horrible mistake. One that can't be undone.
"Sounds like a mess."
"My family's been through worse." Olivia offers me a reassuring smile. "You should go. If Damiano comes back, I doubt his mood will be any better."
Taking her advice, I return to my room. I scoff at myself for calling it that. It's not as if I have a place here among people whose lifestyle I want no part of. I get into bed, but I can't settle.
Even when I work late at the club, I need to read for a while before I sleep. I hate that my phone hasn't been brought to me. It has my favorite reading app on it.
I wouldn't be able to focus on a book right now anyway. My mind churns with thoughts pulling between optimism that my being here means Damiano won't hurt me and fear that he's just biding his time.
Not knowing what Damiano is planning is driving me to distraction. Before I can change my mind, I get out of bed, slip out into the corridor, and walk next door to Damiano's room. I knock once, but there's no answer, so I try again.
"Come in," he calls.
I push the door open to find him standing in the center of the room, a towel wrapped low around his hips. His hair is wet from the shower and water traces thin lines down his muscular chest. There's tension in his stance, and something about the way he holds his right arm tells me he's hurt.
"What do you want, Violetta?" He doesn't sound angry that I'm there, but he's not a man who expresses emotion.
"To apologize. I didn't know what sort of man Gianotti was."
Damiano says nothing. Perhaps he wants me to grovel, but I can't bring myself to do that. I doubt he'd respect me for it anyway. He pulls back his shoulders and winces.
"Are you okay?" I don't know why I give a damn.
"My shoulder was dislocated." He surprises me by sharing. Men like him don’t usually let you know they’re vulnerable, even accidentally
"Sounds painful."
He gives a short, humorless laugh. "It's nothing."
Of course, I forgot. He's the manly type who laughs off pain. I manage not to roll my eyes.
Silence stretches into something uncomfortable between us, a strange awareness that doesn't need words. A tingle runs through me.
I should leave but find myself frozen to the spot, staring at his incredible physique. He's muscular without being bulky. Hischest has a light dusting of hair and he has a single tattoo over his heart.
It's a letter V with wings sprouting from it, symbolizing his name, I suppose. It’s also my initial but there’s no way the tattoo could be for me.
When I realize I'm openly ogling him, I avert my eyes.
"I should go." My feet stay rooted to the spot.
"Don't you want to know why I brought you here?"
"Of course, but…" The intensity in his gaze makes me uncomfortably hot. "It can wait until morning."
"No,dolcezza, I don't think it can.”
