Dante Valentino
I took a deep breath. I liked early mornings. I warmed my hands with a coffee cup as Nino or Marco approached me.
"Nino," he said before I could ask. I nodded.
"Anything happened while I was gone?"
"No, Boss. Everything was quiet."
I hummed. "Where is Marco?"
"He is gone to buy the things you asked."
"He couldn't ask anyone else to do that?"
Nino grimaced. "He wanted some for himself, too."
The twins were awfully private. But, they were loyal. Sharing a single thing made them shiver as if I had asked for a kidney.
I dismissed him, sipping my coffee. Blue, naked in my bed had been too tempting. I had barely managed to get out of the room without fucking her again.
I had been rough on her last night. I wondered if she'd regret it as soon as I told her about the cheque, or if she'd regret it as soon as she woke up.
I heard soft footsteps. I looked over my shoulder as she walked, too slowly, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie.
I put the mug down somewhere and rushed to her side. "Baby, you shouldn't be out of bed." It was obvious she could barely walk.
"I'm okay," she said, avoiding my eyes. She looked fragile. Her arms were wrapped around her body protectively, with Teddy Bay nestled to her chest.
I picked her up. "Do you want coffee?"
She nodded, digging her head into my neck. She breathed deeply as a bit of tension left her body. I walked to the kitchen and sat her down on the counter. She winched a little. I frowned. I had not spanked her ass but...
I sighed, caging her in my arms. "Look at me."
She blinked up at me.
I cupped her face, pressing a kiss on her lips. "Did I hurt you too much?"
She swallowed and shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I'm just...sore." She squirmed.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded. "Yes..."
I smiled. I had not permitted her to call me Dante again. "Call me Dante, amore."
"Dante."
"Blue." I twirled a strand of her hair around my fingers. "What do you wish to do today?"
"I...I don't think I can walk much-" she muttered.
I hummed. "We can stay in," I said.
"Can we watch something?"
"Anything you want."
She smiled. "Okay."
I couldn't help but smile. "Okay."
. . .
She sat down between my legs in the bedroom, snuggling up to me, as she switched the TV on. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her further into me.
"What do you want to watch?" She asked.
"Anything," I said. I didn't give a fuck.
She took her Teddy baby, setting him on her lap. "Have you watched...well, you probably have."
"Which one?" I asked, taking one of her hands.
"Dead Poets society? It's one of my favorites."
"Haven't watched it."
She gasped almost gleefully. "We're going to watch it!"
I smiled. "Anything you want, baby."
. . .
"If you have a son one day," she said and I forced myself to not freeze. "And he wants to become an actor, would you allow it?" She asked, turning around.
I thought about it. "Firstly, Blue. I haven't thought about kids. And secondly, I...I'd like to allow him anything he'd want to be."
She frowned. "Like to?"
"Well," I said. "When you're born in the mafia, you're born with blood on your hands. It stains everything you touch. I'd like to allow him whatever he'd want, but life wouldn't give him many options - if any."
"You weren't given options?" She asked.
I took a sip of the wine she had been drinking. "No," I said. "My mother wanted me to become the Capo because I was born two minutes before Giovanni. Two."
"You never wanted it?"
I slowly shook my head. I had never had a conversation like this with anyone. With her, it seemed easy.
"I didn't," I said. "The expectations were too high. The blood too much and the pain..." I sighed. "I wanted Fabiano to be the Capo. He is the most rational out of the three of us."
She moved closer. "Then...how did you three end up becoming the bosses?"
I cupped her cheek. "It's rather late, love. We should sleep."
Her frown deepened but she didn't protest.
She got ready for bed while I walked out of the room, a cigarette rolling between my fingers. I didn't smoke regularly. But sometimes, I just needed it. It was better than drugs, anyway.
How did you three end up becoming the bosses?
It was an innocent question, asked with curiosity, not with the intention to open old wounds.
I reached my stomach, intending to rip open one of the wounds I never let heal, and realized, with a start, that it had almost healed.
Healed.
I threw the cigarette away.
. . .
