I exhale slowly. I needed to hear that more than I’ll ever admit.
“Good,” I say. “Text me if she ever stops.”
“Yes, sir.”
I look up the stairs where Elena disappeared. Tonight… I’m taking her on a date. Not for show. Not for the alliance. Not because it’s expected. Because I want to be the reason she keeps smiling like that.
I don’t get any work done. My eyes keep flicking toward the staircase like a fool waiting for a miracle. And then—
I hear footsteps. Soft. Hesitant. A pause near the banister. I look up.
And I fucking stop breathing.
Elena stands at the top of the stairs in the dress — the rose-colored one she chose in the shop. The one Gia said made her glow. The one Rocco said I’d approve of.
Approve. That’s not even close to what I feel. Because in that moment—
I finally see my wife. Not the timid girl from her father’s house. Not the terrified bride I met at the altar. A woman.
She walks down the stairs slowly, her fingers lightly tracing the railing, her lashes lowering when she sees the way I’m looking at her. Holy hell. I can’t stand still. I move to her instantly, my chest tight, my pulse slamming against my ribs, every instinct in me screaming to touch her. I stop directly in front of her. I want to tell her she’s beautiful. But the word tastes wrong.
“I want to say you look beautiful,” I murmur, voice low and rough.
Her brows pull together in confusion, that soft little scrunch she does that kills me every time.
“But ‘beautiful’ doesn’t touch how you look right now.”
She opens her mouth, breath catching—
And I tip her chin up with my fingers, tilting her face toward mine. This kiss is not like our first one. Not desperate. Not hungry. It’s soft. Warm. When I pull back, her lips are parted, her cheeks flushed.
“Roses,” I whisper against her cheek. “You smell like roses.”
A tiny, shy smile curves her lips. I take her hand — because not touching her feels impossible — and guide her outside. I open the SUV door for her, helping her inside like she might break if I let go. Then I get in beside her.
“Valentino’s,” I tell my driver.
Rocco climbs into the front seat silently. Elena looks confused, glancing between him and me. Before she can overthink, I touch her knee gently.
“While I would protect you with my life,” I explain, “Rocco is here to make sure nothing happens to you.”
Her expression twists into something like fear… or guilt.
“I—” Her voice cracks. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.” Then her voice lowers, “I'm not worth it.”
My chest twists so hard it almost aches. I grip her chin, tilting her face toward mine. Then I press a quick, soft kiss to her lips — a reassurance.
“Elena,” I whisper against her mouth, “you’re worth everything.”
A small sound escapes her — not quite a sob, not quite a sigh. And she doesn’t look away this time. She looks right at me. And in her eyes, for the first time, I see trust. A spark of something more. Something new. Something ours. I take her hand again — I don’t care if I never let go — and rest it on my thigh as the SUV pulls away from the house.
Chapter 13
The SUV ride feels unreal. Alessandro’s hand stays wrapped around mine the entire time, his thumb brushing gently over my knuckles like he needs to remind himself I’m here. Every touch sends heat through me that I don’t understand.
“Come here, Dove.”
At the wedding, when he called me Dove, I felt small… like a fragile creature that needed shelter. Now, when he murmurs it under his breath as the car slowed to a stop and we got out—the word blooms warmth low in my belly. I don’t feel small. I feel seen. And wanted.
