"Dante—"
"That's why I can't stand the smell of alcohol on a woman's breath. It drags me back to that day, that bathroom. To watching her die because she couldn't handle the shame my father brought to our family."
The confession hangs between us, raw and bleeding.
"The man at the casino," I say softly. "He reminded you of her."
"He reminded me of everything I hate. Weakness. Self-destruction. Using alcohol as an excuse to hurt the people around you, loved one or not."
I cross to him, take the glass from his hand, and set it aside. "You're not weak, Dante. And neither was she."
"She gave up."
"She was in pain." I kneel in front of his chair, force him to look at me. "Sometimes pain is louder than love. That doesn't make her weak. It makes her human."
His hand comes up to cup my face. "You're too good for this world."
"I'm really not." I smile softly.
"You are." He pulls me up into his lap, and this time there's no violence in the way he holds me. Just need. "You make me believe things can be different."
I kiss him. Slow and soft and careful, like he might break.
He responds with the same gentleness, his hands moving over me like he's memorizing every curve. When he carries me to the couch, it's with a reverence that makes my chest ache.
This time is different. Slower. Less about claiming and more about connecting.
When we're both breathless and tangled together afterward, he speaks against my hair.
"Matteo gave me a warning tonight."
I go still. "What kind of warning?"
"He said if I marry you, it makes the family look weak. Our partners won't accept it—a capo marrying an escort who's been with men in our circles."
My heart aches. "So w-what does that mean?"
"It means Caterina offered him a deal. Leave you, marry her instead, and she stays quiet about your past."
My heart drops. "And what did he say?"
"He told her that he'd think about it, so he could speak with me and give me the chance to handle it myself, if I can. He's giving me two weeks to fix the situation."
"Fix it how?"
"I have no idea yet." He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a small black box. Opens it.
The ring inside is beautiful. Simple. A single diamond on a platinum band that catches the lamplight.
He places it in my hand. Not on my finger. In my palm, like a promise waiting to be kept.
"I'm not accepting Caterina's terms," he says quietly. "I'm not marrying her. I'm not letting this scandal dictate the end of us."
"Dante—"
"I know what I'm risking. I know what it could cost me. But I'm done making decisions based on other people's expectations."
I stare at the ring, feeling its weight. "You're really willing to lose everything for me?"
