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Her mouth falls open and her brows lift.

“You’ve killed a hundred and forty-seven people?”

I nod.

“Holy shit.”

She chews on her lip before she shakes her head and laughs.

“Of course you know the exact number.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m trying to figure out how you don't know exactly⁠—”

“I said I have issues!” she blurts.

I chuckle as I slide my hand back over her shoulder blades.

“Just giving you a hard time.”

“That's my job in this fake marriage, asshole,” she mutters, biting back a grin.

“Oh, don’t worry. You’re still the undisputed champion of hard time giving.”

“Thank you.” She rests her chin on my chest, looking at me.

“What?”

“One hundred and forty-seven?”

“Okay,” I grumble. “Who’s shaming whom now?”

“Not shaming!” she giggles. “I’m just feeling weirdly inadequate now.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t.”

“Seriously! You’re walking around with a body count more than twice mine. I didn’t realize I'd married a homicidal slut.”

I snort.

“Honestly, Damiano. Have some self-respect, murder whore.”

I chuckle. “You set a woman on fire because you thought I was on a date.”

“Completely unrelated.”

She grins at me. I grin back.

Fuck, what is this.

Bella traces her fingertip over my skin again before she lifts her eyes. “Sooo… Does this mean we don’t hate each other anymore?”

“Dunno,” I sigh dramatically as my fingers gently stroke the ends of her hair. “I think I’m feeling some pretty uncontrollable rage toward you.”

She smirks.

“Such a dork⁠—”

A small whimper escapes her throat when I lean in and kiss her.