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“I love you.”

He embraces me and buries his face in my hair. “I love you more than I ever thought I could love anything.”

Enzo’s voice slices through the applause. “Cue the music now before these two reduce my toughest soldiers to tears.” After some chuckles and a ripple of relief, an Italian melody fills the space. The party breathes back to life around us.

It all feels beautiful and perfect. Though, if I know anything about Marco’s world, it’s that his days are never peaceful for long, and even if he’s stepping back from the front lines, part of me questions how long that will last.

I recall that text on his phone from the night before the wedding.

What am I missing here? He’s definitely still keeping some secret about Mason. But is he doing so with the best of intentions?

My phone buzzes against my left palm, and I slip it free from my little clutch without thinking.

Speak of the devil. Mason.

Did my thoughts conjure him?

I read his text.

We need to talk about Matteo. Please, Lucia, just give me five minutes.

My thumb hovers over the screen. I think about Marco’s speech, the gold band on his finger, and his eyes on me like I was his whole world.

Then I think, once again, about the text I saw on his phone the night before our wedding. Nico had mentioned Mason’s name alongside the words, “Deal with him.” Marco promised to tell me everything after we got married, but the ceremony is over and he still hasn’t said a word.

I pocket my phone without answering. Doubt settles in beside my love for Marco, and I wonder which one will prove harder to live with.

We made promises to each other that I should hold him to, but we’re in such a great place now. I don’t want to ruin things.

Marco finds me at the edge of the garden and wraps his arms around me from behind. His chin rests on my shoulder.

“Everything okay?”

I lean into his embrace and let myself be held.

“Not okay. Perfect.”

Chapter 32

Marco

I submitted my case appeal to the board of the Athletic Commission the night after I recovered the files from Bruno’s hideout and right before the wedding. I’ve owed myself this reckoning for years, and if I prevail, perhaps I can also live a normal life with Lucia.

A week later, I’m walking into the New York State Athletic Commission offices in the Financial District. The building features stone structures and marble flooring that gleams under harsh white light. The stature and grace of such a place remind me that the state is larger and older than anything anybody alive has ever constructed.

I pass the security checkpoint without being accosted by a piercing beep and stride past men in suits who have never donned boots and a tracksuit and thrown a punch. Even so, these men still decide who’s allowed to compete.

How ironic that a man like me who ran enforcement for one of the oldest crime families in New York can walk into a government institution with a folder of evidence in my hand to request the restoration of my reputation.

I can almost recite every name on the brass plaques on the walls. They’re all champions I used to know, men whose names became legends. A part of me wonders whether my name would’ve been up there as well if Bruno hadn’t derailed me.

I stop just outside the hearing room. The folder under my arm suddenly feels heavy, and for a moment, I’m twenty-two again, walking in here to listen to the panel rattle off my crimes and strip me of every recognition and honor until all I have left is a collapsing career.

I went from hero to villain in a matter of weeks.

Lucia’s hand brings me back to my senses, her fingers threading through mine. “You okay?”

I look at her, and the knot in my chest loosens. This is my wife, the woman who saw me at my worst and chose me anyway. The chaos of these past months, the violence and fear, and the moments when I thought I’d lose her all brought us here.