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“No. You’re perfect.”
She’s perfect too. I need her to know how perfect I think she is and how I want her in my life forever. Three simple words blaze in my heart.
I love you.
The words hover on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them back. Love, for men like me, is a luxury and a weapon that takes everything and gives nothing in return.
Instead, I tell her, “You should sleep.”
She shakes her head. “Not yet.”
“Tomorrow will come quickly.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
We stay in each other’s arms, saying nothing. Finally, as she drifts off, her breath slowing, her fingers trace the scar at my collarbone. She whispers my name like she’s committing it to memory.
In sleep, she looks peaceful. Innocent. Though I know my world has already stolen so much from her and hungers for even more. Her hair spreads across the pillow, and her lips part slightly.
What if the change I noticed means she’s ready to move on from all of this, from me?
Before I can stop myself, I whisper, “Don’t leave me.”
Chapter 25
Sophia
When I wake up, Enzo’s heavy arm is draped across my waist, his breath soft against my neck. On his forearm, the inked Benedetti crest of a snake and dagger bound together stares at me. That mark serves as a blood oath that binds him to the family. My fingers trace the raised edges without thinking.
Can loyalty like that coexist with love? Can I exist in this life without losing my humanity?
He shifts in his sleep, murmuring something low and incomprehensible. For a moment, guilt coils in my chest at the thought of what I’m about to do. Creeping out, keeping secrets, telling lies…it all twists down into me. But guilt is a luxury I can’t afford right now.
The house exhales when Enzo heads to his early rendezvous with Marco and Vito. He somehow feels too large for the walls. I stand in the doorway of my room, barefoot and wearing the same sweater he tossed haphazardly across the chair. The faintest whiff of his cologne lingers, sandalwood and a hint of smoke. It’s frustrating how scent can feel like a possession.
In the mirror, my reflection looks ghostly pale, almost foreign. Maybe it’s just the lighting. Or perhaps it’s the part of me that keeps dying a little more each time I betray someone who trusts me.
My mother’s warning lives in my bones now. The key she pressed into my hand felt like a promise or a curse. I still haven’t decided which yet.
I formed my plan quietly in the predawn hours when the house was still because I need to move before the rest of the estate wakes and anyone can stop me. In addition, I have to find a way to keep Gio from seeing too much or asking questions I can’t answer honestly.
Kindergarten kids sneak better than this. Still, I should be fine. By the time I’m in the kitchen, the morning light has become sharper. The tea kettle whistles, steam twisting like ghostly breath. Two cups, two spoons, and the quiet pretense of domestic kindness. “Tea for the guards.” I force a bright tone into my voice that sounds more like someone else’s cheer.
Gio’s out by the gate, his laugh too easy, too young. The other one, Luca maybe, leans on his rifle like it’s a walking stick. Children playing at being men.
“Signora, trying to bribe us already?” Gio grins as I hand him his cup.
“Bribe? Please. If I wanted to bribe you, there’d be cannoli.” My smile stretches thin but remains.
He chuckles. “You’re getting too comfortable here. Careful, or Enzo will think you’ve gone soft.”
I invent an excuse to take a walk in the garden.
They nod, unguarded and too trusting. Poor boys.
The moment I round the corner, I run.
Not far…just enough to reach the staff gate Enzo never checks. The lock clicks, the cold morning air slaps my face, and for the first time in months, freedom tastes like nerve rather than danger.
