Page 160 of The Carnage We Keep

“You are so fucking weird.”

“Thanks!” I beam at him. “Although, since someone raided my kill room and confiscated every useful thing I own and has yet to return them—again, fuck you—you may be wondering how I managed all this.”

Damiano looks at me over the container. “I wasn’t. But suddenly I have…concerns.”

I grin.

“Well, we’re married now. We live together. What’s yours is mine, right? And those Japanese knives in the box you still haven’t unpacked…” I make an “okay” sign with my thumb and fingers. “Excellent craftsmanship. Those things went through his wrist joints like butter.”

His face goes white.

“My Kojima Sakurai knives?! Are you fucking crazy?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Those are ten grand apiece,” he hisses. “And you can’t just buy them. You have to go to Japan, apprentice with Sakurai himself, and then if he deems you worthy, he’ll forge⁠—”

“Dude, you are such a nerd,” I giggle. “You flew to Japan and apprenticed with someone just to get some knives?”

His jaw grinds. “It’s called pride in your craft.”

I roll my eyes, getting off the couch and padding into the kitchen. "Whatever."

I start to reach for the cabinet to grab a mug, but then realize there are two mugs of coffee sitting on the counter. Suddenly, a carton of vanilla oat milk slides in front of me.

Damiano still looks more than a little miffed. But he’s got one brow cocked in amusement as I frown in confusion and take the carton from him.

“Um, what is this?”

“Coffee,” he says flatly.

When I just keep frowning at the coffee, he exhales.

“You’ve got a real fucked-up way of showing gratitude, Bella.”

“I just…” My brow furrows. “What’s the catch?”

Damiano chokes out a breath, an incredulous expression on his face.

“It’s coffee, Bella, not an IED. It was supposed to be a nice gesture.”

“Okaaaay, but how did you know how I like it, hmm?” I turn to look at him suspiciously. “What, are you stalking me? Trying to learn my habits so you can⁠—”

“Bella.”

He cups my jaw and lifts my gaze to his.

“I was just paying attention.”

And there it is.

That weird fucking feeling again.

I mean, I know it’s just coffee. But for some reason, him knowing how I take my coffee and making it for me without being asked feels, weirdly, way more intimate than him seeing me naked.

I don’t do intimate.

So that sudden warmth spreading through my chest needs to calm the fuck down, immediately.