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He supposed his priority would be to find a way to live with being the offspring of monsters.

But he wasn’t his parents. Their sins weren’t his. He didn’t owe them a damned thing.

“Don’t give our mother an inch,” he warned Siena. “Get Rico to convert one of his outbuildings into a home for her and make her live the rest of her life there. Don’t give her any means to communicate with anyone except immediate family.”

She smiled. “Already on it.”

With a grunt of laughter, he shook his head. “I should have let you be Donatella, shouldn’t I?” He meant when their father died, and they’d had to argue their cases to be the new head of the family.

She shrugged but didn’t deny it, but then she smiled again and leaned in to wrap her arms around him.

* * *

Outside, Mattia’s men were waiting in the car they’d kidnapped Elvira in what felt like a lifetime ago. Parked behind them was a gleaming black, bulletproof four-by-four, ready to drive the Ranieris – he included his sister in that collective – back to Naples.

The sun was bright. After all that time stuck in the apartment, it felt good to feel the autumn warmth on his skin.

After embracing his sister again, he finally shook hands with his brother-in-law and said, “Call it the Ranieri Group.”

The man who’d called a truce for love of Mattia’s sister raised an eyebrow.

Mattia looked him dead in the eye. “Fuck the Esposito legacy.”

Elio tightened his grip, understanding flowing between them, and when Mattia shook Bruno’s hand, the same understanding was there too.

Incredibly, the war between their two families really was over, and now it was time to say goodbye to the last holdout of the truce.

She was leaning against the car, arms folded across her chest, the bullish expression he recognised so well from their early hours on her face.

She looked shell-shocked.

He couldn’t blame her. A part of him was shell-shocked too. Neither of them could have predicted this outcome.

His head, though, was entirely clear.

Mattia was walking away from his life with his life. It was more than he’d expected and much more than he deserved.

More importantly, this sassy, beautiful woman full of attitude and wit was walking away with her life too, and as she lifted her face to him and their eyes locked, his chest filled with an emotion that came close to overriding the relief that they’d both made it out of this alive.

He had a horrible feeling he was going to miss her.

Whatever he was feeling was something to unpick and digest when he was alone…

Or maybe not. What would be the point? She would never forgive him for being an Esposito.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he told her softly, speaking in a voice low enough for only her to hear. “I’m glad it was you. Now go and build yourself a life that’s all your own.”

She continued staring bullishly at him. Her chin, though, was wobbling.

Realising she wasn’t going to speak, which he wryly thought had to be a first for her, he shook his head with a half-smile. “Enjoy the apartment. You deserve it.”

With that, he turned away and walked to the car. He was about to get into it when she called out, “Hey, Esposito?”

He looked at her.

She lifted her wobbling chin. A smile glimmered on her lips. “Go fuck yourself.”

His heart made another of those awful wrenching motions.