"It has to be," he says, but won't quite meet my gaze.
The sunrise calls to us like it always has, and despite my weakness, made worse by our desperate fucking, I need to see it. Alex carries me to our rooftop observatory, my naked body wrapped in just his shirt. I can feel his cum still leaking from me with each step, marking my thighs with evidence of our reunion.
The city spreads below us, painted gold by dawn, while the last stars fade overhead. My telescope stands waiting, but right now the sunrise is enough.
"We need to talk," I say, settling against his chest. "About Tommy."
Alex tenses, his hands tightening reflexively. "I know."
"You keep trying to control everything, to protect me from even my own choices." I trace patterns on his chest, feelinghis heartbeat quicken. "But control couldn't save Tommy. It couldn't stop me from taking those pills."
"What do you want from me?" His voice is raw.
"I want you to trust me. To let me make choices even if they're dangerous." I turn to look at him directly. "I can't be in a marriage where you control everything to protect me. That's possession, not love."
He's quiet for a long moment. Finally: "I don't know if I can change that much."
"You can try," I say firmly, "or you can lose me. Not to pills. I'll simply disappear."
"You think I'd let you?" His grip tightens dangerously. "After this? After what we just did? I can still smell my cum dripping down your thighs. You're marked, claimed, mine."
"And that's exactly why we need boundaries," I say, meeting his intensity. "Because your love feels like a cage sometimes."
"We still need to talk about what happens next," he says carefully. "The aftermath, the family, everything we're facing after what happened with Tommy, after Tommy's death…"
He stops, but the correction comes too late. The way he stumbled over it, catching himself mid-sentence, makes my heart suddenly pound with something beyond post-orgasmic tremors.
"Alex." My voice shakes now, a different kind of weakness than before. "What are you hiding from me?"
His jaw clenches, that careful mask sliding over his features like armor. But I know him too well now. I know when he's hiding something.
"Is there something about Tommy you're not telling me?" I pull back to look at him fully, my heart racing. "Alex, what aren't you telling me about my brother?"
"Emma." Just my name, but the way he says it tells me everything. Guilty. Caught. Still trying to control what I know, when I know it.
The sunrise continues its relentless beauty, painting everything gold, but all I can see is the secret behind his eyes.
Something to do with my brother. My Tommy.
"Tell me," I breathe, my whole body starting to shake, not with weakness now but with rage beginning to kindle. "You know something about Tommy you're not telling me."
"No, stellina, there's nothing but your grief," he says, kissing me gently on the forehead. And for the first time ever, I know he just lied to me.
26 - Alessandro
“The new security detail starts tomorrow—two men with you at all times when you leave the compound.”
I deliver the decree from behind my mahogany desk, leather and gun oil thick in the air of my study. Emma stands before me like a summoned subject, still pale from her suicide attempt three days ago but with something harder in her eyes than I've seen before. Three days of careful distance. Three days of her recuperating in our bed while I orchestrate lies from this desk. Three days of pretending grief is all that's killing her.
"Two guards," she repeats, her voice flat. "Like I'm some kind of prisoner."
"Like you're under my protection." I keep my tone reasonable, controlled, though my fingers itch to reach for her, to feel her pulse confirm she's still alive. "After what happened, after the threats…"
"After I tried to kill myself, you mean." The words slice through my carefully constructed calm. "You can say it, Alex. I made a mistake. And now you're punishing me for it."
"I'm protecting you." My hands flatten against the desk hard enough to make the wood creak. This massive piece of furniture between us feels necessary. Distance keeps me from touching her, from letting emotion override logic. "The compound is secure. These men are trained. You'll be safe."
She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Safe from what? From who? The Hewsons are still out there, escalating their blackmailing threats even after they had Tommy killed. Youcouldn't stop the Hewsons, you couldn't stop the blackmailing, and you couldn't protect Tommy. So how exactly are you going to protect me? Everyone's gone or dead, now. Who are you protecting me from?"
