Page 41 of Damiano De Luca (The Five Syndicates)
Renata: I know what you’re doing.
A Romano soldier stood on the stage, and he spoke of a time when he’d been homeless, and Vincent had helped him get back on his feet. Vince gave him more work, set up a place for him to stay, and made sure he was fed.
I’d had the privilege of knowing one of the best people to ever walk this Earth, and I pushed him away, thinking I was justified because of the gray world he lived in. But if I really was so justified, remorse wouldn’t be seizing my throat so tightly.
Just when I thought a tear would drop, my phone buzzed, and I gripped it tighter, like it was my lifeline.
Damian: Sending inappropriate texts in the middle of a memorial banquet?
Renata: Don’t stop.
It was a moment of weakness, but I needed the distraction he gave me. And yes, I knew that was why he was doing this. He’d always been so in tune with my emotions, and it was our thing to always be there for each other, even when we shouldn’t have.
Damian: You didn’t say that to me last time I slid inside you. We should rectify that.
Renata: You were never this dirty back then.
Damian: I was also an eighteen-year-old trying to be a gentleman.
Renata: And now?
Damian: I’m no longer eighteen, and I’m no longer a gentleman.
Renata: Liar.
Damian: No one has ever accused me of being a gentleman before.
Renata: That’s because they don’t know you like I do…
I hesitated and deleted the last text before the illogical part of me decided to send it. It was too intimate, and while I welcomed the distraction, it couldn’t go any deeper than silly texts.
Renata: Tell me something stupid.
He didn’t answer for a while, and each second without a reply sent me deeper and deeper into grief over Vincent. I needed Damian to reply. Damn it, Damsel, help a girl out. I caved and studied him.
His phone rested on the table in front of him, and when he noticed me staring, he pressed something once on his phone. Not a second later, my phone buzzed. He must have had his message already typed out. His eyes stayed on me as I read his text.
Damian: You have a ring on your finger. That’s pretty damn stupid.
My jaw drop
ped a little before I recovered. I typed something, deleted it, retyped, then deleted. His ankle touched my calf beneath the table, and my phone dropped from my startled hands onto the floor.
Lucy leaned over, picked the phone up, and handed it to me. If she’d noticed Damian’s leg on mine while she was down there, she didn’t mention it. Instead, she gave me a small smile and returned her attention to the stage, where mine should have been.
My phone buzzed again.
Damian: Tell me something stupid.
My heart lashed out from inside me. He slid his leg up higher, parting my dress at the high slit, and hooked his ankle around my knee. His conversation with the woman abandoned, his complete attention transfixed me.
I licked my lips. His eyes traced the path of my tongue. On the stage, an Andretti caporegime spoke of healing, moving forward, forgiveness, hope, and honesty. In front of me, Damian represented the possibility of achieving these things.
Take a leap, take a leap, take a leap, my heart begged.
Don’t, don’t, don’t, my fear argued.
Make a damn choice, my brain demanded.
