Save Me - Chapter 14: Chapter 15

Damien
"Well, if it isn't bambino prodigio himself!"
I steeled myself against the nickname, forcing the tension from my shoulders as I turned to face him.
"Lorenzo Russo, it has been a while," I greeted, my voice carefully indifferent. "I certainly remember less wrinkles on your face, old man."
His laughter boomed, cutting through the pounding club music. As he reached out to pat my shoulder, my hand shot out, gripping his wrist before it could land.
From the corner of my eye, I saw his men shifting, hands inching toward the holsters under their jackets. My own hand slid toward my leather jacket, ready to draw if needed.
Lorenzo's grin widened as I released his wrist, his eyes glinting with cold calculation. "Forgive me, old friend," he said, his smile never reaching his eyes. "I forgot you're not much for touching."
There was nothing warm in his gaze, only the glimmer of a predator. Lorenzo Russo was the most ruthless killer in the Russo family, a man who took pleasure in violence. Most in the mob killed to survive; Lorenzo did it for the thrill.
Turning to his men, he addressed them with a theatrical flair. "Some of you may remember Damien here—the boy genius who single-handedly helped us take down four of our biggest rivals." He raised his glass in my direction. "A fucking legend. He was famiglia."
His tone darkened at the last word, a hint of accusation threading through the false cheer. I remained impassive, though my mind was racing. Encounters with the Russo family were inevitable given my side business, but I had not expected to see Lorenzo tonight. He was more than just a soldier; he was fifth in line for the position of Don. Running into him brought to the surface the dark memories I had spent years trying to keep at bay.
"Dio mio, it seems you've cut us off so completely that you didn't even invite us to the wedding." Lorenzo's gaze flicked to the black band on my finger, his expression sharpening.
Panic clenched my chest, freezing my blood. The very reason I had been able to walk away from the mafia was that they had had no leverage over me—no loved ones to use as bargaining chips. I had been alone, with nothing for them to threaten. But now there was Dahlia, and the thought of her in danger ignited a fear so profound it made my entire body tremble. I had never been so grateful for the dim lighting of a club.
But Lorenzo's grin widened, the cruel satisfaction in his eyes unmistakable, I knew he had caught a glimpse of my fear. For a moment, I envisioned killing him right then and there. I had already calculated several ways to do it before his men could even draw their weapons. The gun was not my only tool, after all. But waging a war with the Russo family would not keep Dahlia safe.
Instead, I stepped closer, lowering my voice to a dangerous whisper. "I still have that little button on me, old friend. One push, and your entire empire crumbles." My lips split into a manic grin as I held his gaze.
Lorenzo's mask slipped, revealing the true psychopath beneath. "I'm still waiting for the day I can prove your bluff," he said "I don't understand why uncle Mario never did, but someday I will disprove this little threat of yours."
We glowered at each other for a moment before Lorenzo slipped on his mask of mirth once more and beamed at me, "It was nice seeing you again, Wonder Kid. And give my regards to your bride."
My heart was still pounding in my throat when I returned home. I headed straight for the library, pulling out my phone. It was well past midnight, but the thought of waiting until morning to hear Dahlia's voice was unbearable. Logic be damned, I needed to know she was safe.
She answered on the third ring, "Hello,"
The sound of her voice washed over me like a balm. I slumped on one of the seats, unable to hold myself up any longer from the effects of alcohol and overwhelming relief.
"Dahlia." I breathed.
"Damien, are you okay?" I could feel the genuine concern in her voice thaw something frozen inside me.
"You have been ignoring me," I could not sound more like a whiny bitch even if I tried.
"I didn't mean to," she replied softly. "The phone's been on silent in my bag. You said it was for emergencies."
"Answering my calls is an emergency, angel. I've been dying to hear your voice."
There was a pause, then she asked, "Are you sure you're okay? You sound... off."
"I want to take you out on a date when you get back." The words came out of nowhere, but I was grateful I said that instead of demanding she tell me where she was and allow me to go to her so I could quell my panic.
"What?" There was a rustling noise on her end, accompanied by... faint beeping? But I did not dwell on it. All I could picture was Dahlia lying in bed, her hair spread across her pillow, her body naked beneath the sheets.
"What are you wearing?" Had I been sober, I would have been revolted that such a question had left my mouth. But now images of a naked Dahlia were plastered all over my mind and blood was travelling from my head down south.
"My usual pajamas." She answered, clearly puzzled.
Then after a beat politely asked, "What are you wearing?"
She was so fucking innocent, my angel was.
"What if I told you I was naked?" Far too innocent for me.
There was a heavy pause at the other end of the line and I could clearly picture her face turning red and her hands moving to cover her cheeks. The image made me chuckle. Fucking adorable.
"I am just joking, angel, I am fully clothed here in the library."
"So, the serious man has jokes, does he." She grumbled.
"I will tell you more of them on our date."
She sighed, "You do not have to take me out on a date, Damien."
"I do not have to do it; I want to do it."
There was a long pause before she quietly admitted, "I don't have anything to wear."
The admission tugged at something in my chest. I had planned to spoil her from the moment I laid eyes on her at that ball, yet I had been holding back, afraid of overwhelming her. That ended right fucking now.
"I'll take you shopping—"
"Oh, you don't have to—"
"I need to, angel. Let me." There was a rawness in my voice that I did not bother to hide.
"Okay," she relented, her tone soft.
"Is there anything else, Damien?"
I was not ready to say goodbye yet, I never was with Dahlia. But I reminded myself that I would see her tomorrow and to stop behaving like a damn abandoned puppy.
"Goodnight, serious man," she murmured.
"Goodnight, my angel. Dream of me naked."
"Damien!" Her scandalized gasp was the last thing I heard before the line went dead.
I realized I was laughing several seconds into it. This feeling I was feeling—the lightheartedness, the fullness in my chest—it was so foreign that it took me a while to realize what it was. Happiness.
For the first time in my unfortunate life, I felt happiness. Dahlia made me happy.
And if Lorenzo or any motherfucker thought that they were going to take her away from me, they had another thing coming. I was no longer a helpless child; I was now a very powerful man. I would strike him down before his eyes even touched her. I would burn them all to the ground before they even touched a hair on her perfect head.