Bullet ✔️

Chapter 45

Seven months later

July was a freaking mess on my calendar. I needed to be everywhere at every damn hour of the day, and as much as I'd once again fallen in love with my career, I wanted a break.

The whole year had been busy, if I was being honest, with renovating mom and dad's house, moving into Damian's house, selling my apartment and working. Not that I'd ever complain about it—I was happy. At least as happy as I could be, considering.

My heart was still shattered from losing dad, but Damian kept the pieces that were left glued together, as if he'd never done anything else in his life. He hadn't pointed another gun at me—yet—despite our weekly sessions at the range. Mostly those sessions ended up in other activities, though, so I hadn't learned anything new in a while. Unless you'd count my now non-existent gag reflex.

I closed my eyes with an exasperated sigh as I thought of it, shaking my head a little as I fought the inevitable blush that came over my cheeks.

It had been so quiet and so peaceful ever since Michael announced his retirement as boss on New Years, making Damian the head of the family. That meant he'd be a lot busier, and I was a lot busier, so every chance we got he wanted to recreate the scenes from my books that made me blush most. I wasn't one to complain.

When I opened my eyes again, I continued scrolling through images from last night's wedding, embracing the fact that I was free for the night. It was also kind of a special weekend in my book. It was Elina and James' wedding anniversary, so it marked a whole year since I met my friends—my new family. Elina had already made sure the four of us were going to the fancy restaurant her and I went to after she told me about the mafia, and then she and her husband would go back to their home and—in her words—make love on every surface.

To be honest, I just looked forward to a quiet dinner with my best friends and the love of my life. I didn't really care what they'd be doing later, even if I did ask her to give me details when she mentioned it.

My office had become almost perfect since I officially moved into Damian's house—our house. Damian paid Billy to build bookshelves on two of the walls, covering the black paint completely with white wood, and now a few books, my trusted Kindle and camera equipment. And the occasional low-maintenance green plant. The one mom got for me when I moved into my apartment still sat downstairs, still alive. The only thing pulling the rating of the room down was that I had too much space. Most of the shelves were empty, because my equipment was mostly loaded into my car for a new job, and I didn't have that many books yet. Other than that, I loved it.

I hummed with contentment and smiled at the room, just as the door opened and my mystery man walked in, his shirt sleeves pulled up to his elbows, and something dark staining his hands. I gave him a pointed stare, but he only smirked and bent over my desk to give me one of his long, passionate kisses. He'd never broken that promise—that he'd never kiss me unless he could really taste me, and taste the emotions between us. Pecks were for pussies, he once said when I dared to ask why. I couldn't say that I complained about that either.

When he pulled back, he said, "Hello, sweetheart."

That line still made me weak in the knees, but I grimaced and looked at his hands, covered in blood, and resting on my white desk. "Can't you clean up before coming in here, Damian?"

"No," he replied simply. He raised a brow challengingly, and I crossed my arms to challenge him back. "I miss you too much, and you always make me feel like I'm a good person, no matter what I did an hour ago."

Though his words were somewhat sweet, I asked, with my brows furrowed, "What did you do an hour ago?"

His nose scrunched. He knew I had a love/hate relationship with his job, if one could even call it a job. After he went from heir to boss, his responsibilities doubled, and he had to deal with so much more crap than I would've put up with. "I may have created a hole in a man's thigh, and dug through it with my fingers until he promised to stop dealing drugs to kids.."