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“I do. But if we’re going to walk around, I don’t want a dress flipping up and someone seeing what’s mine. I don’t share. Unless it’s from the window.” I pull her t-shirt off, and she’s sitting on the bed naked. I toss her spent clothing to the side. “And we’re burning this shit.” She opens her legs for me. I shrug. “Ok, I could eat.” And I dive face first into her pussy.

I’m not sure I’ve ever had more fun in my whole fucking life. Holding hands, walking the Piazzas, and stopping for espresso or to browse shops for things I can buy her. Scarves, a little purse, or things she picks out in front of me. And it’s taking all the fucking muster in the world to not sad sack sentimental chump weep while I get to openly hold her hand. I kiss it again. She keeps rolling her eyes every time I do, but she feels it too. We’ve walked and laughed, and we revel in the thrill of it all.

Next step is going to suck. I’m leaving her here in Rome. She won’t listen if I ask her, so I’ll just go. I’m calling in a favor from Don Ciccone to watch the hotel and her. I don’t want to be separated any more than she does. As soon as I fucking find Enzo and kill him, we’ll pick right back up here.

Anyone who wants to come at us can go after the new guy. A smart one will come along and cobble our scraps back together. Or they won’t. That world doesn’t matter to me anymore. I see the pawns rising up from the other side of the board to become a queen or a bishop. I’ve made it clear I’m not coming for them, because I’m dead. By cutting off the head of the family, I took her out of harm’s way. No one’s coming for her. They were coming for each other for the throne. Then Enzo figured out he might need her.

I’ve divested it all. Killing me would only be a trophy, and to anyone who matters it would be an act of war. Killing me is a good way to get dead, not power. I’ll hold all their fucking secrets. I never gave up any of the Familia that matters to the FBI. I never broke my oath. No flesh burning on my part. I gave them LA syndicates and gangs. A couple of low-level cartels, because you don’t fuck with the big guys. Enough to get me out from under all the RICO shit, but not enough to piss anyone at the very top off.

“This one, I think.” She holds up a royal blue silk tie. “You said you like the ocean here. Is it this color?”

I kiss her a little too long. “Exactly.” I hand her more cash, and she goes to buy us more things we don’t need.

“And this is for my mom.” It’s a hand painted green scarf I’m sure Tina will love.

BOOMER: All is safe that I can see.

SAL: Good. Keep it that way. Thanks, brother.

BOOMER: That I can see

I shrug and glance up to see her twirling in a Prada ball skirt. “Where you wearing that?”

“Safeway.” She twirls again as I laugh.

BOOMER: Mel says there’s a situation she has to talk to you about.

SAL: Don’t give her the number. Tell her you can’t get in touch with me.

BOOMER: Yes, boss.

SAL: Thanks.

BOOMER: Can’t say, but you should check it out.

SAL: I will eventually. Be safe.

BOOMER: Always. Hello to the missus.

Whatever shit Mel wants to put on my plate can wait.

Her arms are full of bags and there’s a big box handed to me. “You’re wearing this for our wedding.”

“It’s black.”

“Don’t care. You could pay for ten weddings with this skirt.”

“I’ll wear it all the time.”

“I’m holding you to it.” She lifts her chin and I bend down to kiss those gorgeous lips.

“Can we go back to the room? I’m so tired.”

“No. We can not go back if you’re tired.”

She kisses me in front of God and everyone and says, “Fine. I’m not that tired.”

We wake, and her body is curled into a tiny ball like a kitten. I lift her on top of me, and she stays cuddled up with her ass in the air. I caress the soft skin of her ass. I can see the light outline of the buckle. My side aches a bit, but it’s clean and dry. There’s slight bruising but the damn glue of Angelina’s held. Concierge doc here checked it out, and it was all still sealed. The glue will come off eventually, but it’s all clean.