Santino is staring at me with a mixture of horror and arousal, like he can't decide whether to be scandalized or turned on by me answering his phone naked.
"I'm—good, I guess?" Bruno sounds completely thrown. "Is Santino available?"
"He's right here. Hang on." I hold the phone out to Santino, still grinning. "It's for you."
He takes the phone with a look that promises retribution later. "This better be important, Bruno."
I can hear Bruno's muffled voice: "Did your wife just answer your phone? While you're on your honeymoon?"
"Yes," Santino says flatly, watching me walk across the bedroom toward the bathroom. "What do you need?"
More muffled talking. Santino's expression shifts from annoyed to focused.
"Handle it," he says finally. "You don't need my permission for that. Use your judgment. No, I'm not coming back early. Bruno, it's my honeymoon. Unless someone's actively dying, I don't want to hear about it for another eleven days. Good. Text me if anything changes."
He hangs up and tosses the phone onto the bed.
Then he follows me into the bathroom where I'm rinsing off the pool water but am actually waiting for him.
"You answered my phone naked," he says, stalking toward me with predatory intent.
"I did," I agree innocently. "Is that a problem?"
"You scandalized my underboss."
"He'll recover."
"He probably thinks we're insane."
"We are." I step into the massive glass shower, turning on the water. "Are you going to stand there talking about boring Bruno or are you going to join me?"
He's in the shower in seconds, crowding me back against the tile wall, his mouth on mine before I can take another breath.
The water cascades over us, hot and perfect, while his hands explore every inch of my body like he's trying to memorize me by touch.
"I love you," he says between kisses. "My insane, impossible, perfect wife."
"I love you too," I gasp as his mouth moves down my neck. "My uptight, possessive, secretly romantic husband."
"Not so uptight anymore," he points out. "You've thoroughly corrupted it out of me."
"Good," I manage. "That was always the plan."
We stay in the shower until the water runs cold, then collapse onto the bed in a tangle of damp sheets and satisfied exhaustion. We're quiet for a moment, just breathing together, existing in this perfect bubble where nothing matters except us.
"Liana?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you," he says softly. "For jumping out of my car. For driving me insane. For refusing to be anything other than yourself. For choosing me even when you didn't have to."
I lift my head to look at him. "Thank you for seeing me. For loving the real me instead of the character I was playing."
He pulls me up for a kiss that's softer than the heated ones before, full of tenderness and promise and everything we've built together. When we break apart, I settle back against his chest with a contented sigh.
"So," I say after a moment. "About that room service that's definitely cold by now..."
"I'll order more," he says, not moving. "In a minute."
