His Bambina

Chapter 38

I sleep in his arms that night, and a blissful sleep consumes me as he holds me in his tender and loving embrace. He lulls me to sleep while whispering gentle promises into my hair and despite the work we still need to overcome, I allow myself to revel into the sweet nothings he fills my ears with.

The next morning. Soft light spills through Vincenzo's window. The storm has passed.

I wake up before him.

The rain must've stopped sometime in the early hours, but the world outside still glistened. The leaves trembled with drops, the sky pale and washed clean. Our bedroom window was open just enough for the breeze to carry in the scent of wet earth and jasmine.

Vincenzo lays on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other curled loosely around my waist like even in sleep, he couldn't bear to let go. There was a faint scar just beneath his collarbone now, something I hadn't noticed before last night. I reach out and trace it gently, my fingers ghosting over skin that's warm and familiar.

He stirs, eyes fluttering open as he turns toward me.

For a moment, we just look at each other with a sense of quiet understanding.

Then he smiles. It's soft and real. The kind of smile that makes my chest ache in the best way.

"Morning," he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, suddenly shy. "Morning."

He leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. The action is lazy and lingering, then he moves to my cheek, then the corner of my mouth.

"You stayed," his whisper brushes my lips.

"So did you."

His thumb brushes along my jaw, his gaze searching mine like he still couldn't quite believe I was really here.

"I was afraid to fall asleep. I kept thinking I would wake up and it'll be back to before. The silence. The suffocating distance."

"Me too," I admit. "But it's not."

"No," he smiles. "It's not."

We stay in bed longer than we should, limbs tangled under the sheets, speaking in murmurs and kisses. None of our actions are rushed, yet there is no more pretending we weren't still in love.

Eventually, we get out of bed together.

In the suite kitchen, he pours us coffee while I make us some eggs. We move in sync, like we had always belonged in this rhythm, like this was the routine we might've had if everything hadn't gone so wrong for so long.

He passes me my mug without asking how I liked it. I smile at the thought. He already knew.

"You remember everything," I say, smiling over the rim.

"I could forget everything but you," he replies, kissing my temple before sitting beside me.

We eat together, barefoot, in comfortable silence broken only by the occasional clink of a fork or a low laugh when our hands brush while reaching for the same slice of toast.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't a fairy tale. But it was real.

And for the first time in a long, long while... I felt safe. Not just in this house, but in him.

In us.

The warmth of the morning still lingers on my skin. His hoodie hangs loose on my frame, sleeves too long, coffee still warm in my hands.

Vinzenzo twists a strand of my dark hair around his finger, "We should take the day off. I will check on Stephano, then maybe we should disappear somewhere quiet, just for a little while."

I giggle at his idea. Is that not what we have been doing all morning? I'm about to agree when a knock comes from the door. It's not in a frantic manner, but the rasps are firm, demanding not to be ignored.

Vincenzo looks up from the table, instantly alert. The shift in him is immediate. His shoulders tense and his eyes sharpen. The gentle, blissful man I'd woken up beside disappears into the man who runs an empire in the shadows.

He doesn't have to look at me. I'm already setting my mug down, slipping back into the calm I'd been trained to fake my whole life.

He opens the door without a word.

Two men stood outside. Broad-shouldered, in black suits, with faces completely unreadable.

One of them glances in my direction before speaking to Vincenzo in a hushed tone. "We need to talk. It's urgent."

My stomach turns, but I stay standing behind Vincenzo steadily.

"I thought I gave clear instructions," he growls, voice low and dangerous. "No one was to come here unless someone was dead."

"Someone is," the second man declares. "Gabriella. Laying dead in broad daylight. They left her in our driveway."

With my hand resting on his back I can feel the breath catch in his throat. His hands clench at his side.

"And?" he said tightly.

"I believe they're sending a message."

His eyes flick to me, just for a second, but it was enough. I saw the fear beneath the fire.

I step forward. "What do they want?"

The men exchange a glance, clearly surprised that I've inserted myself in a matter that they clearly think doesn't involve me.

"I- I think it's best if you see for yourself."

"You left her there?" Vincenzo grits out, clearly not happy with the idea of just anyone coming to see the scene. My mind flashes to Tony. Oh, no...

I feel Vincenzo's arm brush mine, clearly feeling my discomfort.

"Show us." With those two words his men lead us out of the house, barefoot and under-dressed for such an occasion.

My mind reals trying to process what we're about to see. I haven't seen Gabriella since I overheard her conversation with Tony. I thought she left for good. So why would someone use her for such a brutal declaration?

"They want a war," One of the men declares matter-of-factly and Vincenzo curses under his breath.

I stop in my tracks, my stomach begging to get rid of my breakfast.

I don't know how they could identify the girl sprawled across the brick driveway. My hand shakes as I pull it to my mouth. Each limb is chopped and spread into a deliberate message, her head used as a period.

TRAITOR.

"They want you," Sergio corrects, whispering low enough for only my ears to hear.

I glance up at Sergio, panicked. Could he be right? Was this a message for me? For the fact that I couldn't comply with the task the mysterious stranger had given me? Am I the traitor? If so, then to who?

A pained groan echoes from across the pathway. Tony stumbles back, a terrified Emily trying to comfort him.

"Someone, get him out of here." Vincenzo barks and Sergio is the first to act.

I watch as my friends walk a pale Tony back inside. The silence that follows is thick with a storm we all knew was coming.

He doesn't turn to me right away. But when he does, his eyes aren't cold like they used to be. They aren't hollow or distant.

They were mine again.

"You should go inside too. I don't want you involved," he says softly.

"Too late," I reply. If Sergio's hunch is correct, Vincenzo has no idea just how involved I am.

Another beat of silence fills the air between us.

Then, without needing to ask, he steps aside to let the men in to talk to the both of us.

He walks back inside with his head high, shoulders squared, and his hand at the small of my back. He's not just a Mafia boss anymore. He is my partner. My love.

And this time, I am staying beside him.