“You did so well.” Pressing kisses to her temple, her cheek, her lips. “So perfect. Took everything I gave you.”
“Yours.” The word comes out slurred with exhaustion. “Every part of me is yours.”
“Mine,” the agreement comes fierce, possessive. “Completely mine.”
The care taken afterward, I clean her gently, massaging sore muscles, wrapping her in soft blankets only makes her trust deepen visibly. She curls into me, boneless and sated, and the vulnerability in that gesture does something to my chest.
By the time exhaustion finally claims us both, she’s marked everywhere. Elena has bite marks on her shoulders, fingerprints on her hips, evidence of possession written across her skin in ways that will last days. And now, having claimed her in every possible way, satisfaction runs bone-deep.
She belongs to me. Completely. In every way that matters.
And tomorrow, the world will learn exactly what that means.
“Still sure about this?” The question is murmured against her temple.
“If you ask me that one more time, I’m going to stab you.” But there’s no heat in the threat. “I’m sure. I’ve been sure. Stop questioning it.”
“Can’t help it. Keep waiting for you to come to your senses and run.”
“Not happening.” She shifts, wincing slightly. “Though I might need a wheelchair after that. Pretty sure you’ve destroyed my ability to walk.”
Pride and concern war in equal measure. “Too much?”
“Perfect amount.” Her smile is satisfied, sated. “But Alessandro? Next time, warn me before you—”
“Before I what?”
“Before you do that thing with your—” She blushes. “Never mind. I’ll just plan better.”
The laugh that escapes me is genuine and warm. “Noted. Next time I’ll provide a detailed itinerary of planned activities.”
“That would be helpful, yes.”
We fall into comfortable silence, afternoon light filtering through windows. Tomorrow brings challenges, Greco still lives, the feds still investigate, enemies still circle. But right now, in this moment, peace exists. Elena is my safety, my home.
“Wait here.” The bed protests as it’s left, but this can’t wait.
Her overnight bag yielded little when brought from the penthouse, a few clothes, toiletries, her phone. But one thing wastucked in the side pocket, carefully wrapped, a single black rose, preserved somehow, with gold leaf painted along the edges of each petal.
Returning to the bedroom, I find Elena sitting up, sheet wrapped around her, looking curious.
“What’s that?”
“You sent me black roses. Three of them, to symbolize death.” The preserved rose is held up carefully. “I kept one. Had it preserved and gilded. Because even in death, even in endings, something beautiful can remain.”
Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “Alessandro—”
“And—” The other item from the pocket comes out, a small key on a simple chain. “This is the key to my penthouse. To my home. I want you to have it. Want you to know that wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, you have a place that’s yours, safe and protected.”
“You’re giving me a key.” She says it like it’s something momentous.
“I’m giving you access to my life. My space. Everything I have.” The key is pressed into her palm, followed by the preserved rose. “I’m giving you my heart, Elena. In whatever form you’ll accept it.”
“Your heart.” She looks at both items, then back at me. “Alessandro De Luca, are you asking me to move in with you?”
“I’m asking you to let me keep you safe. To share my space and my life and whatever future we can build together.” The vulnerability in admitting this is new and uncomfortable. “I’m asking you to be mine in every way that matters. To trust me to protect you. To—”
Her kiss cuts off the rambling. When she pulls back, tears stream down her face but her smile could light the entire city.
