Sempre: Redemption (Forever Series #2)(26)

“I don’t beg.”

“I seem to remember you begging me once, Principe. And correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t it because of a girl? A girl you’re no longer with, at that. Maybe you should’ve just left her where she was. Maybe we’d all be better off.”

Anger swept through Carmine. He clenched his hands into fists in his lap but fought to keep it from showing on his face. Sal stared at him, challenging him to react.

“Come on now, Boss,” Corrado’s voice rang out directly behind Carmine, startling him. Heavy hands clamped down on his shoulders, keeping him locked in place so he couldn’t turn around. “Cut the boy some slack. Even you know what it’s like to make mistakes. He’s just being cautious so he doesn’t make another.”

“I suppose that’s admirable.” Sal relaxed again as he took a sip of his drink. “The last thing I want is another careless man on my team.”

“Especially one that’s careless with a woman,” Corrado said.

Sal laughed bitterly. “Like his father. Vincent’s only flaw was his choice in females. Talk about a man who made mistakes . . .”

Carmine’s calm mask slipped, his eyes narrowing. He shifted forward a fraction of an inch at the insinuation about his mother, preparing to pounce without a second thought, but Corrado’s grip on Carmine tightened.

“You live and you learn,” Corrado said. “Carmine here will do both, hopefully . . . as long as he remembers his place. And I think right now, his place is at home. He hasn’t even unpacked and he’s already partying.”

“True, true.” Sal waved his hand dismissively at Carmine. “Get out of here.”

Corrado let go of Carmine, stepping to the side so he could stand up. He glanced around the table one last time before nodding his head. “Good night, sir.”

He briskly walked away, relief soothing his nerves as he bolted for the exit. As he approached the bouncer, the man suddenly jumped from his seat and stood at attention. Carmine’s brow furrowed at the reaction until he heard Corrado tell the man to relax. His uncle was right on his heels, walking out behind him.

“Thanks for that,” Carmine said quietly once they were outside, taking a deep breath of the cold night air. A cloud surrounded him as he exhaled.

“You’re welcome, but I won’t always be around,” Corrado replied. “You have to learn to control yourself, no matter what he says.”

“I know, but I just didn’t expect that. I mean, f*ck, he flipped on me quick. It caught me off guard.”

“He’s testing you,” Corrado said, “and based on the little bit I saw, I have to say you’re going to fail.”

10

After two weeks of fleeting hunger and fits of insomnia, Haven’s grip started to slip. Every time there was a knock at Dia’s door, a swell of hope ran through Haven that it was Carmine, but each time she would end up crushed all over again. She grew anxious, conjuring up wild scenarios of where he was and what he was doing. She couldn’t understand how he tolerated being away from her. If he loved her as he claimed, he had to feel the same pain she did.

Didn’t he?

She started imagining things that weren’t there again, whispered voices in the night calling out to her as she struggled to find solace in sleep. She heard noises in the apartment, footsteps outside her door, and loud bangs that sent her heart wildly racing. It got to the point where it felt like someone was always there, lurking around the corner, watching, waiting. She could hear them moving around but they were always out of sight, never within her reach. He was haunting her, his memory lingering everywhere she looked, while his absence cruelly taunted her.

Until, suddenly, one day, she saw him there.

Haven stood in place, staring at the vision in front of her. Carmine sat in a dark room in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, hunched over his piano with his fingers ghosting across the ivory keys. He didn’t press down on them. There was no music, no sound at all—nothing but strangled silence.

Nothing but him.

She reveled in the sight, the contours of his muscles and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply. His hair was a mess, overgrown and unkempt, sticking up in every direction and falling forward into his eyes. She could even make out the scar on his side, shining a shade lighter than his naturally tanned skin. She longed to touch it, to trace the old wound with her fingertips.

“Tesoro.” He whispered the word in a shaky voice, as if saying it any louder would hurt too much. “Ti amo.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She clutched her throat, startled, unable to find her voice. It was gone.

I love you, too, she thought. I always will.

“Only you,” he whispered. “Sempre.”

Sempre.

“You’re my life,” he said. “I’d die without you.”

I’m yours. I always have been.

His shoulders slumped. “Forgive me.”

For what?

“I destroy everything I touch.”

She shook her head. Not me.

“Maybe not you, yet,” he said. “But I will . . . if you let me.”

You won’t. She took a step closer. You wouldn’t hurt me.

“I hurt you when I left,” he whispered. “But I had to do it. I had to.”