Page 28 of Until You Break
My chest tightened.
What the hell was happening above me?
The sheets clung when I tried to turn away, my arousal a constant betrayal, my throat still raw with him.
Above, the noise kept rolling, boots and steel and cheers, the rooftop itself hungry for blood. The house seemed to breathe with it, waiting.
For a heartbeat I thought about running, about finding a window, a lock, any crack to slip through. But the house pressed heavier than my own weight, every wall reminding me nothing opened for me. Hope was just another way to bleed.
Finally, sleep dragged me under anyway. Not escape, just surrender. The house had its own pulse, and it beat me down until even fear went quiet. Desperation clung to me, heavier than the sheets. My brother had tried and failed, and I didn’t know if he was alive. Sleep came like betrayal, sealing my eyes while the question of Salvatore’s breath burned unanswered.
CHAPTER 9
DAMIANO
The morning cracked open fresh. I woke hungry, not sorry. Last night’s chaos, the Valentis trying and failing to claw Emilio back, only sharpened me. Salvatore’s golden car burned, their pride smoked on our lawn, and I smiled at the memory. Today wasn’t burden. It was promise.
Mypromise.
The wedding would crown the blood with law.
The kitchen carried its usual contradictions. Butter hissed in a pan, garlic sweetened the air. Doors stood open to the garden so lemon and rosemary drifted through. A sparrow squabbled in the olive tree outside while the cook muttered to her pans, wooden spoon striking the pot like a metronome. The old radio played Chiara, her voice low and sultry, the kind of music that makes even bread rise differently.
Alessandro sat at the far end, charcoal wool and cufflinks already in place, newspaper folded on the table. His tie was perfect. He drank his coffee in silence until he finally spoke. "Last night brought quite the entertainment.The Valentis are stubborn.”
I agreed. "Riccardo is late to finally pretend he truly cares for his youngest son.”
My brother's eyes flicked to me once, sharp. “Your wedding digs Riccardo’s grave deeper. Every family will watch him sink while we rise.”
“Are you ready for your big day, big brother? Ready to make your pretty toy beg in front of them all?”Luca straddled a chair backward in yesterday’s shirt, sleeves rolled, buttons open down his chest like he wanted the world to notice he hadn’t changed. His tie hung loose until Luciana leaned down to fix it, silk dressing gown brushing his shoulder, perfume sharper than the espresso on the counter. He twirled his knife as she tugged the knot straight, her fingers patient, his grin feral. He never put sharp things down when he had an audience.
“Fermo.” She batted his hand away, voice low but firm. Still, she smoothed the knot until it lay flat, her mouth curving like she’d won something small.
“How are you feeling?” Luciana asked, serious for once. “About today?”
Luca cut in before I answered, flashing teeth, grin feral. “He’s excited. Can’t you see it? Our brother can’t wait to put his pretty toy on display.” He chuckled low. “Almost as pretty as Salvatore’s golden car when it went up in flames last night.”
I poured coffee. The crema curled gold, docile under the pour. “Eat your breakfast.”
“Does the kitten at least know it’s today?” Luca’s tone dragged like a lazy drawl, knife still spinning between his fingers.
“Not yet.”
Luca grinned wolfish, tearing his roll in two. “God, that face will be art. When he realizes how fast it’s coming… saints will blush. What will he do with an altar and a hundred eyes?”
“Don’t frighten him on purpose.” Luciana leaned back, then turned velvet toward me. “You’ll tell him gently.”
I lifted my cup.“I’ll tell him. Gently is optional.” In truth, I imagined his eyes wide when I gave him the news. Fear, fury, maybe even the stubborn blush that betrayed wanting. They thought this was family politics. Only I knew it was possession.
The back door clicked, a breeze lifted the curtains. The house gentled under Nonna’s step, as if the floor tried to smooth itself for her. She reached me, pinched my cheek, patted once like I was eight.
“Bello.” Her approval warmed her voice. “Troppo bello.”
“Buongiorno, Nonna.”
She read my face the way she counted rosary beads, slow, unforgiving. “Love is not a cage.” Her gaze swept the room. “It is the hand that keeps you from falling when the monsters run.” Her eyes cut to Luca. “And you, roll your eyes again and I’ll salt your coffee.”
He rolled them anyway. “Maybe I like it salted.” His grin spread as she swatted his ear.
