The warmth of the Italian dawn kisses my skin as Dom makes his way down the metal flight of stairs in front of me. light breeze dances across my cheeks as I pause at the top and take a deep breath.
And another.
Behind me, fingers brush against my back, and I stiffen. Dom glances over his shoulder at my delay, and I move forward without looking behind.
Not yet.
“Caterina.Please.”
Ignoring the low voice – ignoring the pain there that threatens to crack open the numb shell encasing me - I keep my eyes down, following Dom’s lead as he moves toward one of the two black cars waiting for us.
He pulls the door open, holding it, and I slide inside, into the air-conditioned space.
And I wait.
Listening to the muttering coming from outside the car, low voices raising and falling as I sit silently.
And then a familiar warmth brushes against me, as someone else gets in. I wait, but nobody else joins us. Instead, the door in front of me opens and closes.
Dom’s steel-gray gaze meets mine through the small gap that separates us. He’s not in the back with me, instead choosing the front passenger seat. Dom moves his eyes between my face and the window that would block him out.
Offering us privacy, for this conversation that I can’t escape any longer.
No, I want to say.Leave it open. Please.
I am not ready.
But I nod. Breathe in again as he pushes that window shut, sealing me in.
With Dante.
I have not seen him since that night.
One hundred days without him, and I can’t evenlookat him.
We’ve been driving for several minutes when he breaks the heavy silence. “Tentazione.”
I try. Try to reach for something, anything. But the panic curls around my throat, constricts my oxygen, wrapping around my lungs until it’s all I can do tobreathe.
And he stiffens as my ragged breathing becomes audible. Rasping, choking breaths fill the space between us with my panic.
I have spent so long refusing to think of the possibility of this moment that Ican’t.
Can’t speak.
This is my reckoning. The moment where I face him, where I lose him, for the lies I told over and over again.
He gave me his love, his passion, his loyalty,everythingthat makes Dante V’Arezzo who he is. And what I gave him in return… it was only ever a smokescreen, and now we both know it.
I made a choice, and it wasn’t him. It washer,always her.
Alessia.
Our daughter.
The closed window in front of me wavers, blocked by Dante’s face as he rips off his belt and slides to his knees on front of me. He cups my face, his breathing almost as ragged as mine.
“Tentatzione,” he breathes. And his voice – it threatens to break, as he stares at me. “Talk to me.Please.”
