chapter 32

Tori I’ve made two batches of cannolis, and as they cool down, Angelo comes into the kitchen. “Christ, I love the smell in the house since you moved in.” I grin at him from where I’m leaning with my hip against the counter while drinking a cup of coffee. When I woke up this morning and felt his arms around me, there was a shift in my heart. I’m starting to see Angelo in a different light. Not once has he been violent with me. Even though I’m well aware he can change at any time, I’m clinging to the hope that he’ll never raise a hand against me. He’s been kind and patient with me…and even loving.Sometimes, I forget he’s one of the heads of the Cosa Nostra. I forget he’s killed people. I forget he makes a living from criminal activities. When he’s home, he’s just Angelo, my husband. We’re forming a bond, and it has my feelings changing toward him. I’m not always on high alert around him, and I even smile more.Angelo steals a cannoli and leans back against the counter. With his eyes on me, he takes a bite. I watch as he enjoys the dessert, and more warmth trickles into my heart. I can learn to love this man.He tilts his head and asks, “What’s going on in that mind of yours?” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly before I admit, “You’re different from what I expected.”“What did you expect?” He takes another cannoli as I answer truthfully, “Violence.” He eats the whole thing in two bites before he says, “My father used to beat the shit out of my mother. I’m no saint, but it’s the one thing I’ll never do.”Hearing about his parents, my eyebrows draw together. “I’m so sorry. It must’ve been awful.”I glance down at the caramel liquid in my cup.“My father was gentle and caring.”“I know. He was a big teddy bear. Everyone felt the loss when he died.” Right. Angelo knew my dad. Angelo closes the distance between us and framing my face with his hands, he captures my gaze with his. “When I saw you at the funeral, it never occurred to me Giorgio would treat you so badly. If I had known, I would’ve placed you somewhere safer.”He leans down and presses a tender kiss an inch from my mouth, then murmurs, “I’m sorry you suffered since your father died.”Another kiss is pressed a hair-width closer, and anticipation explodes in my chest. My breathing speeds up, and it has Angelo pulling back so our eyes can meet. “Give me permission, Vittoria,” he whispers. I consider his request, but not feeling ready, I shake my head. “I just need a little more time.” He lets out a deep breath and pulls away from me. “In that case, I’m taking half the cannolis.” He’s not angry with me. A smile spreads over my face. “I made double so you could have some.” “I’ll have to spend extra time in the gym to work off all the food,” he chuckles before leaving the kitchen. Silence falls at the loss of his presence. I feel an urge to follow him so I can be near him again, but suppressing it, I start to clean the kitchen after baking all morning. A kiss is the only thing I have control over, and I want it to happen when I’m in love with Angelo.When I’m done with the chore, I leave the kitchen and find Angelo lying on the couch and reading a book. I stop dead in my tracks and stare at the big, bad mafioso doing something as ordinary as reading.My mouth tips up in a smile, and walking closer, I ask, “Can I join you.” His eyes flick to my face. “Of course.” He reaches his hand out, then murmurs, “Come lie by me.”I’m careful as I crawl over him and lie down half on top of his body. Resting my cheek on his chest, I let out a sigh. When he continues to read his book, I ask, “Can I watch TV?”“Sure.” The word rumbles from him before he picks up the remote and hands it to me. I switch on the TV and find my way to Netflix. I can’t remember which episode I was last on, and to play it safe, I start season two of Virgin River from the beginning.Getting comfortable, I quickly get lost in the show. During the second episode, Angelo mutters, “I’d kill half the people in that town just for being annoying.” A chuckle escapes me. “Yeah, Hope is a bit much, and Charmaine is a conniving witch.” “Bitch,” he corrects me. “What the fuck did he see in her?” “I don’t know,” I sigh with happiness.“The guy needs to grow a pair.” “Uh-huh.” After a few minutes, Angelo mutters, “Christ, why do you like this show?” “It’s fun.” “If it’s fun you want, all you have to do is ask, baby.”I let out a burst of laughter and move to the other end of the couch. Lifting Angelo’s legs, I rest them on my lap, then say, “Hush now, I’m missing half of what’s happening.” He tries to read his book for a while but eventually gives up and watches the show with me. Every now and then, he comments about the people being idiots, making the smile on my face grow wider and wider.