“Mariposa,” Capo said.
I had to blink a few times to focus on him.
“Sto bene.”
I’m fine, he had said.
I nodded, but I didn’t feel so well. When Uncle Tito took out a scalpel from his bag, the entire room faded to black. When I woke up again, I was on the opposite table, and Capo was grinning at me.
“Nice nap?”
I tried to sit up, but Uncle Tito stopped me. “Rest, nipote.” Then he slid across the room, to the other bed, on a chair with wheels. He checked the bandage on Capo’s arm.
“What happened?” I rubbed my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“You passed out,” Capo said. “As soon as you saw the scalpel. And I’m all good.” He patted Uncle Tito on the head. “The angel of life stopped death once again.”
“Ah!” Uncle Tito slapped at him. “Nonsense! Do not allow your husband to play on your sympathies. This wound is nothing! The bullet was close to the surface.”
I looked at a silver bowl sitting on a silver table. A bloody bullet was in it. I didn’t realize I’d passed out again until I woke up in the firehouse. Rocco carried me. I looked to my right. Capo stared at us, the coldness back in his eyes. It wasn’t aimed at me, though, but at Rocco.
“I can walk,” I croaked out.
“Nonsense,” Uncle Tito said.
Capo gave him a dirty look.
“Your husband is upset that I refuse to let him carry you. His wound is not bad, but he should not be carrying a weight, no matter how light!” He pointed at Capo. “You listen to me, or I will tape your hands together!”
I laughed softly but hid it when Capo turned the dirty look on me. Then I laughed some more when I thought of Giovanni watching all of us disappear into the master suite and not come out for a while.
Capo told me to get settled in bed once we were on the secret side. He was going to walk Uncle Tito and Rocco out. Before they left, I kissed them both and thanked them. Uncle Tito waved it off and gave me instructions on the medicine Capo had to take and what he could and couldn’t do.
My husband came back in the bedroom a few minutes later. I couldn’t seem to move. All that had happened seemed to catch up to me.
“Shower,” Capo said, pointing toward the bathroom.
I shook my head. “Shower for me. You can’t get your arm wet. Doctor’s orders.”
“You have two options. Shower with me. Or shower with me after I’ve thrown you over my shoulder.”
He grinned at me when I wrapped his arm in plastic wrap from the kitchen before we got in. I used the shower handle and aimed it away from him. But when I washed all of the bloody spots off, his shoulders relaxed, and I could tell he was at ease. And no matter how much I protested he refused to let me wash myself.
After the shower, while we dried off, he stared at me.
“What?” I whispered.
“Your stomach.” He nodded to it. “You’re starting to show.”
I turned to the side and smiled. “I am. I wonder if he’s going to be big like you? I hope he has your eyes.”
A moment passed and neither of us said anything. He took my hand after and led me toward the bedroom. I climbed in and patted the spot next to me. My eyes narrowed when he started to creep toward me.
“Capo,” I said. “I’m not giving in on this one. The doctor said—”
“I don’t give a fuck what the doctor says. This is what I need. You. Underneath me. Crying out my name. That’s my only medicine. My only cure in this diseased world.”
I bit my lip, not sure what to do. When he came close enough, he used his mouth to pull my lip from my teeth, and he gently sucked on it.
“Ah,” I released a soft breath. Then my hands fluttered over his shoulders, down his arms, over his sides.
He hissed out a breath and pulled me down with one arm, setting me beneath him. He kissed me, softly, slowly, until I felt like he had taken my soul and I was lost to anyone but him, and then his tongue went deeper and harder. But his touches were…light.
“What are you doing to me?” I whispered when his tongue trailed down my throat, all the way to my breasts.
“Something I should’ve done before. Something different.”
He said nothing after that, but when he entered me, it wasn’t hard or rough. He took his time, moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. He demanded that I keep my eyes open, and his were on mine, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip.
“Mariposa.” His eyes closed then, and he made a strangled noise in his throat.
The sound of my name on his lips made me dissolve into him, and my orgasm tore through me, even though what he’d done to me was far from hard. He pounded into me after, relentless to chase his release, and I came again with him.
He didn’t move after, though he trembled. I was scared to look at the bandage to see if he had done something to his arm and blood was gushing. The thought of it made me queasy. Blood usually didn’t bother me but his did. The dream kept coming back to me, so fresh in my mind.
I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face against his chest. I kissed him in the spot four times. He tried to rise, but I refused to let him go.
I had so many things to say:
Love is not the dagger you think it is. It’s only used as a weapon when the one you love turns it on you. Love is a shield against the rest of the world. Only the two of us can allow strangers beyond our gates. Love stems from so many different things. Companionship. Friendship. Loyalty, and loyalty can breed love. Or love can breed loyalty.
I kept quiet, though, because I didn’t want him to think that I was trying to convince him or convert him. I didn’t want to point out the obvious. You love me, too.
He seemed to sense my thoughts. “In my world, love will only get you killed, Mariposa.” The sound of his voice, low and shredded, made me pull closer to him. “That’s why my mamma left those words behind. She knew what I’d be facing. She used to tell me that I was too pretty. That they were going to eat me alive. But she didn’t see it in me. She didn’t see that a pretty face doesn’t cancel out ruthlessness in the blood. I’m as savage as they are. I held my own. I proved my worth.”
“You’re still holding your own.” I kissed his neck softly. He smelled like the beach, like our time in Sicily and Greece. “You have nothing left to prove. Not a damn thing, Capo.”
He leaned down and kissed me on the head. Then he slid out of me, leaving me empty and reaching out for him. He rested on his good arm, facing me, and he took my hands in his, cradling them. “You’re owed a heart, Mariposa. The veins you already have.”
“A heart—oh. The veins are the three bad things. Now for the good?”
He brought my hands to his mouth. “Orange blossoms.” He inhaled around my pulse and then released the breath in a slow stream of warm air. “You want to know why I didn’t tell you who I was? Semplicemente.” Simply. “I didn’t want you to figure it out. If you did, it made me…anxious to think that you’d walk away from me, that you’d tell me to go to hell, to marry someone else. I didn’t tell you because, semplicemente, I want your companionship. Your time.”
I need to disappear yet be seen. He was lonely, so fucking lonely, because of those ruthless bastards.