The Savage, page 23
Her hair is knotted in that prim little twist she thinks makes her look un-alluring but only makes me itch harder to prove her so fucking wrong. Because I know all it’ll take is one tug to unravel it… literally. To have it flowing over my eager fingers.
I’m already moving. I cross the room in four long strides, cup her jaw gently, tilt her face up, and kiss her.
Slow, claiming, no apology.
Her breath stutters and her fingers hover uselessly between us. Then she melts, leaning into me like every cell remembers exactly who I am.
As it fucking should.
When I pull back, her cheeks are pink, her eyes bright.
Dante whistles. ‘Well, well. Another one bites the dust.’
Giada chokes on air. I glare at Dante. He raises both palms.
‘Just saying.’ He grins. ‘Salvatore curse. Like dominoes into a fucking frying pan. You all fall hard.’
‘Stop it,’ she whispers, mortified.
I kiss the corner of her mouth just to hear her gasp.
Cesare clears his throat. ‘We were discussing—’
‘What happened when you left the hospital with Renzo, and what he was doing at the burned-out convent,’ Maddie probes softly.
Giada goes still but she doesn’t volunteer anything. Good girl.
A muscle in my jaw jumps.
Maddie steps closer, voice gentle. ‘But… we can get to that later. Right now, we thought… you should know everything we do about what happened the night you disappeared, if you’re up to it.’
‘Okay… but why?’ Giada whispers.
‘Because,’ Cesare says carefully, ‘you’re part of this now.’
Giada’s throat bobs. ‘What… Can you tell me exactly what happened? Why…?’ She pauses and a wave of uncertainty and pain washes over her face. I grip her hand tighter and I’d fold her inside me to keep her warm and safe if I could.
Rafa leans back in his chair, expression tight. ‘The same bullshit, sweetheart. If you’re top dog, everyone wants to pull you down. In this case it was the Russians, pushed by your grandfather, El Topo. They had their panties in a bunch because we didn’t want to invite them to the party. They stormed the church knowing our loved ones were in there. Started a gunfight that’s turned into a war that exploded all over New York and the Eastern Seaboard. A war we won, but with a few essential culprits that got away.’
Giada flinches, hand flying to her chest. Sofiya glares at her husband but he shrugs, unrepentant, before he takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. Sofiya’s hard expression eases, while mine intensifies.
‘Stop with that shit,’ I snap at him, then brush my thumb along Giada’s knuckles. ‘Remember what I said, baby. You’re safe now.’
But her shoulders curl inward.
Sofiya notices first. ‘Everyone, give her some fucking space,’ she warns. ‘Too much at once could… spiral.’
Cesare nods, backing off.
Rafa’s jaw grits until Sofiya elbows him hard enough that he grunts.
I slide my arm around her waist. ‘Dinner is ready. I’m going to feed Giada. Come. Or don’t.’
Of course they all come. And Cesare flashes me a look that warns me I’m edging the asshole of insubordination. I shrug.
Dinner is set in the courtyard beneath lemon trees, candles flickering, shadows dancing like old ghosts across stucco walls.
Giada sits by my side, stiff at first. Then she gradually softens when she recognises familiar dishes.
Maddie smiles wistfully. ‘You always loved polpette like this. And the way Nonna made caponata? You’d steal half before it hit the table.’
Giada looks down at her plate, blush blooming anew, glancing shyly at me.
I snort. ‘She’s been stealing mine already, so sounds about right.’
Her head jerks up, mortified. ‘I haven’t!’
I slide my forkful towards her. ‘It’s okay, baby. You can steal as much as you want. What’s mine is yours.’ I slide my eyes down her body, lingering on all my favourite places. ‘As long as you give me what’s mine.’
‘Christ,’ Rafa mutters. ‘He’s triple-whipped and domesticated.’
Dante snorts. ‘Barf. You better not be getting fat. Unless you don’t plan on fitting back into your race seat after the break?’
Shit. I haven’t even thought about racing in… days.
My eyes catch my twin’s and his widen a little. Yeah, colour me fucking stunned, frate.
‘I’ll be ready,’ I murmur, but I see he doesn’t look convinced.
Hell, he looks shaken.
Justified.
It’s the first time I haven’t lived, breathed and crapped Formula One racing since Cesare sat us down five years ago and told us his vision for the future. Since, fresh from the devastation of losing my mother, the bloody carnage that followed, and the hell of Giada disappearing off the face of the earth, I threw myself into the first race car simulator and never looked back.
Since I won the championship last year and Dante came a very close second.
‘You sure? Because it’s not the end of the world or not at all tragic to admit I’m kicking your ass in the championship and so you need to take a breather?’ His gaze flicks to Giada. ‘Or admit that you’d rather play house?’ he mocks lightly.
My hand tightens on her hip and just to piss him off, I take my time feeding Giada another bite before I answer. ‘Fuck off. I said I’ll be ready.’ I point my fork at him. ‘And be ready to kiss those thirty-two points goodbye.’
‘Fighting talk. I like it,’ Cesare mutters in quiet approval.
‘W-when is the next race?’ Giada asks.
‘In two weeks. And you’ll be there, trackside.’ It’s not a question so I don’t expect an answer.
Talk drifts.
Wine flows.
Then someone – Cesare – mentions Nightowl.
The table groans again.
‘They’re a fucking pain in my ass,’ Rafa snarls.
‘Mine too,’ Cesare adds. ‘And yet they somehow always know everything before we do.’
Sofiya lifts her brows. ‘They’ve helped us more than hurt us.’
‘Because it amused them,’ Rafa spits. ‘But the motherfucker is running out of lives. And dark holes to hide in.’ There’s a relish to the statement that tells me my brother is on the hunt. As always.
Good. I’d love a word or ten with Nightowl.
But… as I let my gaze drift over Giada’s breathtakingly perfect features, I can’t help but acknowledge Sofiya’s words too. The infuriating asshole has helped us more than hurt us.
The door opens then and an older woman walks in, carrying a bundle I recognise instantly.
Nico.
Maddie, a beatific smile breaking over her face, rises instantly to take the baby.
The kid’s got Cesare’s scowl and Maddie’s eyes, and every time I see him I’m reminded that the Salvatores have somehow survived every war thrown at them.
‘We didn’t bring him earlier,’ Maddie says softly, walking back to the dining table. ‘Not until we knew the situation here was… manageable.’ Her gaze flicks to me, then to Giada. ‘But I thought it was time.’
Cesare is up so fast his chair scrapes, every muscle humming with territorial warning. Maddie ignores him, because she’s Maddie and the only one alive who can. She walks straight to Giada.
My chest tightens.
Giada looks like she’s been struck by sunlight – wide-eyed, breath caught, hands lifting on instinct before she can think to protest.
Maddie places Nico into her arms.
And fuck me gently with a crucifix, the sight almost levels me.
Giada holds him like she was born knowing how, careful, reverent, stunned. That soft gasp she makes? It hits somewhere deep and possessive in me.
Nico curls his tiny fist around her finger and Giada’s whole face goes soft around the edges, like something old in her recognises something older in him. ‘Ciao, beddu carusu… tu sì un picciriddu perfettu.’
‘Sì, he’s pure perfection. Your sister did good,’ Cesare intones proudly, then swoops in the second Nico lets out a tiny squeak. He plucks his kid from Giada with all the subtlety of a starving wolf grabbing back his kill.
Giada blinks, startled. Hurt for half a breath.
Maddie pats Cesare’s chest lightly. ‘Don’t mind him,’ she says with a grin, smoothing Nico’s curls. ‘He hardly lets anyone hold him. You got two whole minutes. That’s practically a miracle.’
Giada blushes.
Cesare softens, but only by half a millimetre, so it barely counts.
Maddie lets father and son bond for five minutes, then she reclaims her baby, shifting Nico to her shoulder.
I startle when I look up and see Sofiya next to me.
She watches me with a dark, fixed gaze that sends tingles up my spine before, reaching out, she touches Giada’s shoulder with a smile.
‘I’m off to put this one down for the night. Goodnight,’ Maddie says.
Dante stands next, leans in, and presses a kiss to Giada’s cheek. ‘Welcome to the family circus,’ he murmurs.
And I watch Giada absorb it all – the baby, the love, the chaos – with a dazed wonder that makes something vicious and tender twist in my ribcage.
Mine.
All fucking mine.
Rafa and Sofiya exchange one look that makes me roll my eyes.
The courtyard falls quiet.
Cesare folds his arms. ‘Haven’t had a chance to officially welcome you yet,’ he says with a smile that is softer than anyone expects from him. ‘To the family.’
Giada falters. ‘Thank you. But I… I don’t know how long I’ll be part of it. I still intend to return to the convent to complete my training.’
Cesare stares blankly. Then bursts out laughing.
She goes scarlet.
‘Sorry, cara,’ he gasps, wiping his eyes and lifting his cognac glass halfway to his lips. ‘But let me save you time and tell you, you can kiss that thought goodbye.’
She stiffens. ‘Why?’
Cesare’s expression evens out. His voice drops into that cool, commanding tone that makes entire cities kneel.
‘Because you belong to a Salvatore now. And Salvatores… don’t give back what’s theirs. Not to God, not to fate, not to ghosts.’
He tilts his head, eyes glinting. ‘You think you can hide behind walls again? No fucking chance. You’re one of us.’
Giada’s gaze flicks to me, shocked.
I shrug. ‘I’ve been telling you for weeks. Accept it.’
Her lips part.
Her breath catches.
And somewhere deep inside her, something shatters open.
Dinner breaks into smaller conversations.
Rafa and Sofiya murmur to each other but every now and then I catch my brother sizing Giada up with that stupid gleam in his eyes that makes me want to punch him again. It’s like he’s waiting for her to slip up, show that everything she’s said is a lie.
He ignores my ‘watch it’ glare as Giada excuses herself with a tight smile and a whisper-soft ‘I’m fine, truly.’
But I know that look.
That trembling in her fingers.
That glassiness around the eyes that means her mind is spinning like a runaway wheel.
I let her go.
For now.
I step out into the narrow courtyard walkway, needing a breath before I follow her, and immediately spot Cesare and Dante standing on the terrace, cigars glowing like tiny embers in the Sicilian dark.
My twin reaches into his pocket and hands me one when I approach.
I cup a hand around his lighter and take my first deeper, perfect inhale as Rafa joins us a minute later.
We stand there, four Salvatores staring into the night, the weight of our empire stretching out before us, dense and wordless as the inheritance in our blood.
Then Rafa exhales smoke through his nose. ‘We need to talk about the new weasel problem.’
Vittore.
The name flashes in my mind like a blade catching sun.
‘Sure,’ I say, casting a glance back in the living room, which is starkly without Giada. ‘Tomorrow.’ I’m already itching with her absence.
Fuck, I’m addicted, aren’t I? Jonesing for a hit of perfection.
I catch Cesare’s arched brow when I turn. ‘Tomorrow? Since when do you delay dealing with shit that can get us all killed? You’re usually the first to wanna play wackamole with idiots’ skulls.’
I tug my jacket straighter. ‘Since now.’
Rafa snorts. ‘What? Busy chasing pussy? And what the fuck is the story with you and my sister-in-law? All these years you never even so much as said her name.’
Fuck this. I turn again, walk away, flipping him off without slowing my stride. ‘All you need to know is I was the first Salvatore to cross that forbidden line. The rest of you just followed the smoke I left behind. So yeah, you’re not all the trailblazing pioneers you think you are.’
Cesare chuckles low. ‘Jesus fucking Christ. Enjoy the night while it lasts, little brother.’
I don’t bother answering.
I’m already hunting.
I’m not enjoying the night. At all.
The house is too quiet.
Too still.
Too echoing.
Then I feel it… the thing that woke me from a dreamless sleep. The space beside me is cold and my arms are empty. A pulse of panic like a heartbeat that doesn’t belong to me.
Giada’s fear threads the air as I leave the suite, moving fast, checking the hallway and the kitchen. The library.
Nothing.
Then I catch a whisper of movement down the seaside steps.
The faint slam of a door in the wind.
Fuck.
I break into a run.
Giada
The wind stings my eyes as I stumble down the stone steps leading towards the shore.
The sea’s roar calls to me – or maybe it’s the memory lodged behind my ribs.
I’m shaking.
No, it’s more than shaking. It’s splintering.
I reach the bottom landing, clutching the railing as a flash detonates through my skull.
White lilies tumbling across a church floor.
The smell of smoke.
A woman’s gasp.
A voice… Maddie’s voice I recognise now, shouting RUN.
Blood on my hands.
A hand grabbing my wrist – not Renzo’s – and a cruel voice whispering, ‘Look what you’ve done. You will burn in eternity for this.’
I drop to my knees as the world buckles sideways.
‘No… no…’ My breath tears out of me. ‘Please… please stop…’
But the flashes keep coming, tearing open the thin seams of whatever is left of me. I can’t breathe, can’t think straight.
I press my palms to my eyes hard enough to hurt. And when I open them… the waves are lapping close.
Too close.
Dark as ink and hungry.
Maybe I should walk in.
Just for a moment. Just to quiet everything. Let it wash me clean.
I stumble forward and my toes curl on the cold stone. I flinch, but I keep going. Not far, not far, not—
Behind me, a voice erupts through the air like thunder. ‘Giada!’
My whole body jolts.
Renzo
There she is!
Down by the shoreline, bent over like she’s holding her guts in with her bare hands, hair wild around her face, breath coming in sharp, broken sobs.
And she’s too close to the fucking water.
My heart claws through my ribs. What the fuck?
‘Giada!’
Her head jerks up and I see her eyes, huge, red-rimmed and terrified.
I slow only because if I reach her too fast, she might break in half.
Or throw herself in.
‘Angel…’ The word scrapes out of me.
She flinches. ‘Don’t call me that.’
‘What happened?’ I ask, stepping closer, palms open. ‘Talk to me.’
‘I remembered something,’ she whispers. ‘I remembered – her.’ Her voice trembles. ‘Isabella.’
My breath freezes.
‘I saw her,’ she sobs. ‘Alive. Before – I don’t know – before something happened. Before something terrible. I don’t know what I did. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know if I’m good or if I’m—’
‘Stop.’ My voice cracks like a whip.
She shakes her head wildly. ‘I can’t. I feel like a monster. I deserve… I deserve bad things, Renzo—’
I grab her shoulders, firm but careful. ‘You look at me.’
Her breath catches. She does.
‘You’re not a monster. And no, you fucking don’t.’ I’m not sure why laughter breaks out of me. ‘If we’re counting sins, I would be more deserving of those bad things. Believe me, everyone in this house behind me would win before you even came close to winning the monster trophy.’
‘You don’t know that—’
‘I do,’ I growl. ‘Because I know you. Even if you don’t remember yourself yet. You’re goodness itself, ragazza.’ I laugh again and I hear the foot-thick manic beast within the sound. ‘You’re the clever girl who wanted to meet in a church on our first date. I’m the bastard who agreed just so I could corrupt and defile you.’
Her lip trembles, and that single movement nearly floors me.
‘That night,’ she whispers, ‘was I the one… Did I… did I kill your mother?’
The question guts me but I don’t look away.
I raise one hand, tracing my thumb along her temple. ‘Only you can tell me that. But not yet. Not tonight. Not like this.’
Her breath leaves her in a crushed sound. ‘I’m scared.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘But you’re not doing this alone, Giada.’
She looks at me in a way that makes my chest ache. ‘Why – why are you being so gentle with me?’
