He dipped his head, his focus on assembling the sandwich.
“You killed three men, and you’re going to eat a grilled cheese.”
“We’re going to eat a grilled cheese.”
“I’m not—”
He set the knife down and pinned me with his dark stare. “You’re hungover and have been through a tough couple of days. You’re going to eat this fucking sandwich, even if I have to shove it down your throat.” He didn’t wait for me to agree as he fried up our sandwiches. The smell was amazing, even if I was still queasy.
The longer I sat in our beautiful kitchen, the more my body relaxed. A part of me wanted to hold on to how wrong it was to go from an execution to domestic bliss, while the much larger part was willing to let Luca kiss it and make it all better.
When he put a plate in front of me, I started to refuse, but he merely lifted an eyebrow and took a bite of his own sandwich. It was time to pick my battles, and who wanted to battle against a delicious sandwich?
I took a big bite, and my eyes closed, savoring it. I hadn’t eaten a bite all day. “Can you get me a glass of water?”
Luca nodded and got us both a tall tumbler of water. While I ate, I watched Luca. Even covered in blood splatter, he was exquisite. He braced himself with one hand, his bare forearm flexing as he gripped the edge. He slowly chewed every bite as if he could make the sandwich last forever.
But he couldn’t.
As soon as there was nothing but crumbs, I asked, “Are you okay?”
Luca’s eyes narrowed, and he scoffed. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
He picked up our plates and walked them to the sink. With his back to me, he said, “You watched me mutilate a man, then you watched me shoot another, and now you’re asking me if I’m okay?” He turned the water off and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel before turning and leaning against the sink with his arms crossed. “I’m fine. Shit like that doesn’t bother me. It hasn’t in a long time. A better question would be if you’re okay.”
I crumpled a napkin in my hand, weighing my words carefully. “It would be a lie to say all of —” I waved my hand, “that wasn’t shocking, but I feel weirdly okay. I mean, I get it.”
“You get it?” Luca raised an eyebrow.
Nodding, I ripped my napkin apart.
Luca cursed under his breath as he joined me at the island. “Baby, you don’t have to do that. I should be saying sorry. I got caught up in seeing you safe and wasn’t thinking when I didn’t send you home immediately. You should’ve never seen that.”
“I’ve done worse,” I mumbled, staring down at the butcher block.
“And you shouldn’t have had to do that either.” Luca pulled me from the stool, and white napkin confetti fluttered to the floor. Wrapping me in his arms, he said for what had to be the millionth time, “I’m so sorry, Sasha.” He buried his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply. “Things are going to get worse before they get better, but eventually, things will calm down. Yanni’s death created a power vacuum in the Chronis family, and apparently, there’s someone who wants to take me out. We’ll find them, kill them, and life will go back to normal.”
“I trust you,” I said into his chest, realizing too late he was still in his gory shirt. Gently, I pulled back and gave him a timid smile.
“Good.” He cupped my face, his thumb tracing the scratches on my cheek as a frown marred his face. “It’s you above everyone and everything. I don’t care who I have to kill. I'll keep you safe.”
“Such a romantic.”
TWENTY-THREE
After a short work week wrapping up all my open projects and finalizing the plans for our honeymoon, it was time for the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. Hair swept up, makeup flawless, and dressed in the same gown I’d worn when we married, I walked into the cathedral on Luca’s arm. Our parents and wedding party greeted us, and our moms, plus the planner they’d hired, ran us through the actual ceremony. The whole thing only took half an hour because Mom was in drill sergeant mode and didn’t allow any side conversations or laughter.
Happiness and joy had no place at her rehearsal.
The entire wedding party moved to Moretti’s for dinner. Besides our immediate families, groomsmen, and bridesmaids, our out-of-town family packed the dining room to the gills. Tommy and Gio stood at the front door, ensuring only those that should be there were there.
“Sasha!” My grandma rushed me at the door. Her perfume was overwhelming and comforting as she wrapped me in a hug that was sure to transfer her signature scent deep into my pores.
“Grandma. I’m so glad you could make it.” I looked over her shoulder to where her second husband, Martin, stood smiling. “And I see you brought a hot date.” Martin scoffed as Grandma slapped my shoulder.
“Now, let me get a good look at your future hubby.” She shoved me aside and grabbed Luca’s arms. “He’s certainly tall enough.” She cackled as she craned her neck to look at his face. Grandma was shorter than Mom, and unlike us, she was a waif of a woman. Seeing the three of us in line was like watching one of those flipbooks about evolution. The final stage was me and all my glory. Grandma patted his arm and nodded. “He’s a keeper. You’ll have beautiful babies.”