Cazzo. I’m assuming that’s what the persistent ache in my gut is. This corrosive, constant need to see Lena, to touch her, to know what she’s doing and feeling and, above all, to know that she’s whole, breathing, alive.
This feeling has been plaguing me for days. A constant pulse at the back of every thought, every inhale.
I wondered if it was obsession. Compulsion. Unmitigated lust.
Until the moment Lena asked what I’d do if Aldo reissued the hit on her. I knew in that instant: I pick her. Over everyone else, I pick her. It’s a certainty I feel deep in my bones. Just like I know that Lena could hate me, and I’d still take a bullet for her.
“I love you,” I repeat, tugging her closer. “You and me, Lena. No matter what happens tomorrow when Aldo returns, it’s you and me.”
A few minutes ago, Lena’s skin was flush with anger. Now she looks pale, borderline ill. “It’s not. It can’t be,” she protests. “And…you can’t say that. You can’t love me.”
“I do.”
“No. You can’t. Not now.”
Lena digs her nails into my chest, puncture points ringing the shallow knife wound. “Christ, Rem! Howdareyou say that now? When all I want to do is say it back. When I want to tell you how much I care about you, how physically ill I felt when I thought you were hurt, how my heart was breaking when I thought you might be dead… But how can I possibly say it now, after everything that’s happened? After learning all the things you’ve been hiding from me?”
Lena slams a fist into me, putting everything she can’t say into the punch. I relish the impact, the distraction from the vise around my lungs. “I can’t tell you I love you and then leave. And I have to leave. For my sake, and yours.”
Fuck that.“You’re not going anywhere.”
“You’re not keeping me locked up here.”
“I can. I will.” Fear is turning to cowardice, cowardice to insanity. The idea of letting Lena walk out of my penthouse—my life—is making me more unhinged than I’ve ever felt before.
“I know youcan, but you won’t.”
“No? How can you be so sure?”
“Because it’s what you have to do. What I need you to do. I need space to think, to process everything you’ve told me. You do, too. What you said about siding with me against Aldo—that’s equivalent to treason, isn’t it? The worst sort of betrayal? That’s like signing your own death warrant, Rem. I can’t accept that. We both need time apart to get our heads sorted out, to figure out what we’re going to do next.”
“I’m not changing my mind,piccola. It doesn’t matter how much time I have to think about it.”
Lena ignores me, refusing to back down. “Give me until tomorrow morning. Less than twenty-four hours away from all of this”—she waves her arms at the penthouse— “so I can feelvaguely like myself again,thinklike myself again. You can even pick the place I stay, as long as it isn’t at Johnny and Bianca’s house.”
“You’ll have bodyguards, Lena. That’s non-negotiable.”
“Yes, fine.” She steps back. I don’t release her hand, not immediately. Not until she raises one eyebrow, that simple gesture wielding more power than dozens ofmafiosiarmed to the teeth.
“And I pick where you stay. Down to the fucking room.”
“I already said you could.”
Vaffanculo. Now insanity is turning me idiotic. “This is a terrible fucking idea. I really hate it.”
Lena surprises me by saying, “Me too. But I don’t know what else to do.” She pauses, chews her lower lip, an uncharacteristically nervous gesture for my fierce wife. “What you said before, about loving me?”
I nod, fisting my hands at my sides.
“I want to be able to say it back.” Lena wraps her arms around her midsection, like she’s protecting herself from her own feelings. “I want to say it back,” she repeats, “but I need time to figure out what it means if I do. For my life, for my future. For my safety.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you, little one.” I can’t stop myself from saying it, over and again. Like if I say it enough there’s no chance it won’t be true.
“Death will come for me eventually, Rem. No one can hold it off forever. Not even you.”
She says it so matter-of-factly, with such simple acceptance, it sends my head spinning. Me, the hitman, the death dealer—I want to scream against the inevitability of it.
Lena just looks at me with clear eyes, calm countenance. “I’m not giving in. Not even close. But we have to be realistic here. If everything you’ve said is true, about my birth mom and your uncle, not to mention the hit your family seems to stillhave out on me—there’s a high chance one of us won’t make it to the end of this month alive.”