Page 73 of Of Murder and Matrimony

Diego shook his head. “Unfortunately not. To pursue it would mean certain death.”

I got the feeling that he wasn’t exaggerating at all. The pain in his voice said it all.

“You love them,” I whispered, my chest aching for the relationship he could never make a reality.

Diego offered me a tortured smile. “Sometimes, when you love somebody, the kindest thing you can do is deny yourself what you want the most to save you both.”

He sounded like Dante, though my husband denied himself so I could pursue my dreams. Fate brought us back together and gave us our love. I didn’t think fate would be so kind to Diego and whoever he loved. It was a tragedy greater than Shakespeare, based on hatred and fear.

Diego cleared his throat, swallowing several times and blinking rapidly. I did him the courtesy of pretending not to notice. He wasn’t the sort of man who appreciated sympathy. When he’d been shot, he made jokes and poked fun at the other men for not being as dedicated to their jobs.

“I think it’s time for you to head back inside,” he murmured, waving me ahead. “If Dante wakes and finds you outside with another man, he may have my balls.”

“I thought it was your job to stay by my side,” I teased.

Diego chuckled. “Somehow, I doubt he expected you to be wandering the property after midnight.”

“I promise not to make it a habit,” I assured him as we approached the patio. “If only to save your balls. I’d hate for them to call you ‘Nadless Ned.”

He groaned at my bad joke. “Go to bed, Mrs. Neretti. You need the sleep.”

“I’m going to grab a snack, then I will. Goodnight, Diego.”

“Goodnight.” Diego dipped his head and held the back door open for me, waiting until I was safely inside before retreating to the guard houses on the property.

I cautiously made my way to the kitchen, still on alert in case my father-in-law had awakened. I hated feeling on edge in my home and wondered if I could convince Dante we needed our own place. Especially if we had children. The thought of Ettore around my kids made me shudder.

The kitchen was dark when I entered. I rummaged around in the fridge before I gave up on finding anything to suit my craving and opened the freezer below, sorting through the items until I found an unopened container of fudge swirl ice cream. I gathered the container and a spoon, then hopped onto one of the stools at the counter to enjoy my treat.

Everybody knew you had to scrape the underside of the lid first, then find the biggest vein of fudge sauce. There was no saving the best for last with ice cream; it melted too quickly. I savored the bites, licking the spoon and closing my eyes with pleasure.

I heard the footsteps coming down the stairs, and for a moment, I worried it was Ettore. Only my father-in-law preferred to sneak up on people. I swiveled in my chair in time to see my husband enter the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. His hair was a disheveled mess, and he only wore black silk pajama pants. I knew from experience that he wouldn’t have anything underneath but the skin he was born in. He looked like a dark lord, and my heart beat faster.

“Hey,” he said tiredly, scratching his muscular chest. “I woke up, and you weren’t in bed.”

“Cramps,” I explained, digging into another bite of ice cream. “I went for a little walk to relieve them, then stopped for a snack.”

“Hmm.” Dante crossed the kitchen to stand behind me, rubbing my back in long, firm, soothing strokes. “You’re feeling better now?”

“Yeah, much.” I pointed my spoon at the ice cream. “Want to share?”

He took the stool beside mine and reached for the container and spoon. “Sure.”

I had a moment of regret when he followed my method, scooping out a vein of fudge. He chuckled at the face I made.

“I don’t have to eat it,” he said, holding his hands up, spoon still clasped in one. “I’m not going to get between a hormonal woman and her comfort food.”

“No, it’s fine,” I said in a rush. “I just considered stabbing you for a second.”

Dante offered me the next bite. “How about a peace offering? You can have two bites for every bite I take.”

“Deal.” I finished the bite and opened my mouth for the next. It was so… normal. Sitting in the kitchen, sharing a pint of ice cream as husband and wife. Not mafioso and mafia wife. Just us. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“We’re married,” he responded. “Ask whatever you’d like.”

“Do you think a man who likes other men deserves to die?” I blurted, deciding it was better to rip the bandaid off my curiosity.

Dante paused and turned his head, stretching his neck. “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what people do with their personal time as long as it doesn’t interfere with business.”

---