Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
I let my hand fall from the doorframe. “Alright,” I say quietly. “I’ll give you space.”
She doesn’t look at me again. The door closes between us with a soft, final click.
I stand there for another long moment, staring at the wood like it might open again if I wait long enough. My chest feels tight with worry. But there are loose ends — the kind that won’t wait. The investigation is moving faster than I planned, and I need to handle it before it spirals any further.
I turn and head back downstairs. The penthouse feels too quiet without her voice, too empty without her beside me. Quickly, I grab my jacket from the chair where I dropped it earlier. I step into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a soft hush.
I’ll be back as soon as I can.
But right now, the only way to protect her is to go out there and make sure the world doesn’t take her from me. I drive out into the night, and the city swallows me up again.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
VIOLA
Ilie in bed, unwilling to move.
The sheets feel too heavy against my skin, like they’re trying to hold me down. I’m curled on my side, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight around my middle as if that could keep everything from falling apart. Tears slip silently down my cheeks, soaking the pillow beneath my head. The city lights outside the tall windows cast faint silver patterns across the ceiling. I try to tell myself things can still be salvaged. That I’m just panicking. That there has to be a way out of this. Some detail I’m missing. I should have been brave and listened to his explanation. Maybe there is an explanation, but the recording the agent played keeps echoing, low and nasty, refusing to fade.
It doesn’t matter what Ricci’s initial goal was when he married me.
Whether he did it to claim the Don’s widow, to step neatly into Salvatore’s shoes, or for some other reason I haven’t even imagined yet should change anything now. It didn’t matter to me back then, hence the contract I drew up. So why should it now? I went into this marriage with my eyes open, or at least I thought I did. But he’s affected me now in ways I never planned. Unlike what I promised myself, I’ve fallen for him. Deeply. Completely. The kind of love that sinks into your bones and makes every breath feel different.
And now all I really should ask myself is not his motives, but how he has treated me since he came into my life.
I lie in the dark, eyes burning, and I admit it to myself. He has treated me with more grace, more affection, more attention, and more respect than anybody ever has in my entire life. The way he listens when I speak, like my words actually matter. The way he touches me. Not like I’m something to own, but something infinitely precious. The puppy he brought home just because he remembered that I had a soft spot for dogs. The way he comes home early just to eat dinner with me. The way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not watching, like I’m the only thing in his world worth protecting.
For these reasons alone, I should hear him out.
I don’t have to take whatever he throws at me. I don’t have to forgive everything on the spot. But I should give him as much grace as he has given me these past months. So I decide that I will speak to him at breakfast in the morning. I’ll sit across from him in the kitchen, and I’ll ask him to tell me everything. No more hiding.
It’s too late now. He’s probably asleep.
The clock on the nightstand glows softly. 4:07 a.m., the numbers burning into my tired eyes. I can’t sleep, and I won’t be able to sleep until I hear his side.
I wonder if he’s in his room and he’s awake too.
The thought surfaces quietly, and I turn it over for a long moment. Maybe now would be a good time to talk, before the sun comes up and the world feels too bright and real again, before breakfast makes everything feel normal and I lose my nerve. I slip out of bed and get into my silk robe. It whispers against my skin as I pull it tighter around me.
I pad quietly down the hallway. The penthouse is completely silent. My heart beats a little faster with every step closer I take. I stop outside his door, staring at the dark wood for what feels like forever. My hand hovers, and I hesitate before I knock softly. I wait. Nothing. I knock again, a little louder this time, the rap of my knuckles echoing loudly in the quiet hallway.