Fuck. I didn’t deserve this woman.
SERAFINA
We’d been living in Las Vegas for two months now. I was starting to feel at home, more at home than I’d felt in Minneapolis since I’d given birth to my twins. I kept sending Samuel messages, but they became less frequent because of his lack of reaction. Every week I’d send him a short note telling him I was well and a photo of the twins and me. He hadn’t replied so far, but I knew he’d read them and even that was a small victory. He hadn’t blocked me. He still wanted to know how I was doing even though I was practically the enemy now. The war between the Camorra and the Outfit wouldn’t end anytime soon, even if things had calmed down for the moment. Dante was probably planning something, and I was fairly certain Nino and Remo wouldn’t ease down on the Outfit either.
Remo’s birthday was tomorrow and even if he didn’t celebrate it, I wanted to give him something special. It was difficult to come up with a present for someone who ruled over the West Coast and could buy anything he wanted because money wasn’t an issue.
It had taken me a long time to come up with something that held meaning and showed Remo what he meant to me. Early in the morning, after another sleepless night with the twins, I approached Nino who was swimming his usual laps in the pool. Kiara was keeping watch over the babies since they were both rather needy at the moment due to their teething.
Nino noticed me standing beside the pool and swam toward the edge. “Is something the matter?”
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
Nino hoisted himself out of the water. My eyes scanned the myriad of tattoos on his upper body and thighs. Nino regarded me curiously, and I realized I’d been staring. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to gawk, but I was wondering where you’ve had your tattoos done.”
Nino walked over to the lounge chair and picked up his towel. “Some of them I did myself. The ones in places I can’t reach I had done in a tattoo studio not too far away.”
“You do tattoos?”
“I can do them, yes,” he said. “Why?”
I hesitated. “Because I want to get a tattoo. Can you do it for me?”
“That depends what exactly you want.”
“I want angel wings on the back of my neck,” I said, a flush spreading on my cheeks under Nino’s scrutiny. I wasn’t sure if he knew Remo’s nickname for me, but it felt like something personal I was sharing.
“Wings, I can do ... if you have a design in mind. Can you show me where exactly you want the tattoo?”
He came up to me and I pushed my hair to the side, baring the nape of my neck and touching the spot. “Here.”
“It will be painful,” Nino warned.
I sent him a look. “I gave birth to twins. I think I can handle a needle.”
Nino inclined his head. “That is true. While I can’t assess the force of labor pain since I’ve never experienced it, I assume it’s excruciating.”
“It is,” I said. “So you will do it?”
“If it’s your wish, then yes. When?”
“As soon as possible. The tattoo is Remo’s birthday present.”
Again Nino gave me a mildly curious look. “We can do it later in the afternoon. I can set up everything in one of the guestrooms.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Thank me once it’s done and you’re happy with the outcome.” He paused. “I assume you don’t want Remo to find out for now.”
I nodded. “If possible.”
“It’s a secret I don’t mind keeping from my brother.”
As promised, Nino had set up everything in a guest bedroom in his wing. I was nervous despite my best intentions not to be.
Nino oozed calm as I stretched out on my stomach on the bed. He disinfected my neck before he touched the tattoo needle to the skin, and I winced at the first sting. I soon got used to the burning sensation. Nino moved quickly, meticulously, and I didn’t speak as he worked, not wanting to distract him. When he was finally done, I sat up and accepted the mirror Nino held out to me. He held a second mirror behind my neck.
The outcome was more stunning than I could have ever imagined. I didn’t know it was possible to paint such intricate artwork with a needle. The feathers of the wings looked so real I expected them to flutter in the wind.
“It’s beautiful,” I admitted.
Nino nodded. “Remo will appreciate the message.”
“You know that he calls me Angel?”
“I overheard him saying it, yes, and you are the counterpart to his fallen angel on his back.”
“Did you tattoo it as well?”
“I did,” Nino murmured.
“Why the broken, singed wings? The fallen angel is kneeling, and the tips of the feathers are crooked and burning.”
Nino regarded me closely. “What did Remo tell you about our past?”
“He told me your mother tried to kill you and that you almost burned to death.”
Nino’s face tightened and he nodded. “Remo burned to save us. I never asked Remo about the details why he wanted to get the tattoo, but I think it has something to do with that day.”
“Thank you, Nino.”
Nino gave a small shake of his head. “No, thank you.”
Hiding my tattoo from Remo proved difficult. I had it covered with my hair, but when I moved my head, I often had to stop myself from wincing.
That evening, after bringing the twins to bed, Remo pulled me against him in our bedroom, his hands squeezing my butt before they moved higher. He kissed me and touched my neck. I drew back with a wince before I could stop myself. His eyes narrowed.
“What’s wrong?”
I considered making up something, but Remo was too good at detecting lies, and his birthday was only two more hours away. “This was supposed to be your birthday present,” I said softly as I lifted my hair and turned so he could see my neck.
Remo was quiet and I risked a look at him over my shoulder.
Slowly he raised his eyes from my wings with a strange smile. “Wings.”
I smiled. “Because you gave me wings.”
He shook his head, his dark eyes softening. “Angel,” he said quietly, brushing his fingers over my tender skin. “You had wings all along. You only needed a little push to spread them and fly.”
I turned back to face him. “Maybe, but I wouldn’t have done it on my own.”
We kissed slowly at first, but Remo quickly deepened our kiss, and suddenly we were on the bed tugging at our clothes and stroking every inch of naked skin we could reach. I pushed Remo onto his back, smiling, and his answering smile, all desire and dominance, sent a stab of arousal through me. Leaning forward to claim his mouth for a kiss, I lowered myself on his erection, groaning at the feeling of fullness. Remo pushed up into a sitting position, bringing us chest to chest, racing heartbeat to racing heartbeat. I gasped at the shift of him inside of me, at the feel of his strength as his arms slung around my back. I rolled my hips, driving him deeply into me as we kissed.
We held each other’s gaze as we always did, and those dark eyes captivated me as they’d done from the very start. So often cruel and merciless but passionate and reverent when they rested on me, tender and caring when they regarded our twins.
When we’d both found our release, we stayed wrapped up in each other like that, our breathing ragged, bodies slick with sweat. I ran my fingertips over Remo’s back, tracing the spot where the wings of his fallen angel spread out. He trailed his own fingertips upwards, along my spine until he reached my new tattoo. I winced slightly and Remo’s touch turned even softer. My heart was ready to burst out of my ribcage from the look in his eyes.
Remo scanned my expression, his brows drawing together.
I sighed. “Sorry. Since my pregnancy I’m more emotional. I hope it’ll go away soon.” I cleared my throat then rested my palm over his shoulder blade. “What’s the meaning of your tattoo? You know why I got mine, but I wonder why you got yours.”
A hint of wariness flashed in Remo’s eyes, the walls he was used to keeping up wanting to lock back in place. “Nino did it. About seven years ago.”
I nodded to show him I was listening.
“It’s a fallen angel, like you said. It represents the fall Nino and I took on the day our mother tried to kill us.”
My brows snapped together. “Fall? You saved your brothers. How’s that falling?”
Remo’s expression was dark and twisted, his eyes far away, haunted, angry. “Until that day Nino and I were innocent. After that we weren’t. We’d already experienced our fair share of violence from our father, but it never affected us like that day did. The flames of that day they singed our wings and our fall into darkness began. We became who we are today. That’s why the fallen angel is kneeling in pools of blood.”
I’d noticed that the fallen angel knelt in pools of some kind of liquid, that a few of its singed feathered dipped into it, but I hadn’t realized it was blood. For a moment I wasn’t sure what to say, how to console Remo. Could words ever be enough to make the horrors of his past better?
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
Remo’s gaze focused on me, tore away from the images of the past. “You aren’t the one who should be sorry. And I won’t forgive her no matter how often she’d apologize. Not that she ever did.”