He guides me to the bed and sits me on the edge, his smile never wavering as he reaches into the bedside table. When he turns back toward me, there’s a small black velvet box in his hand. I still.
“Matteo?”
He sits beside me, a flicker of nerves breaking through his calm. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment. But this feels right.”
He opens the box.
I suck in a breath.
Inside lies the most exquisite necklace I’ve ever seen. A thin chain of white gold, barely there, holding a single teardrop diamond. It doesn’t glitter loudly. It glows. Quiet. Powerful.
“Matteo…”
“It was my mother’s,” he says. “And my grandmother’s before her. She wore it the night she left Sicily. The night she chosefreedom. Strength runs through this piece. Every Davacalli bride has worn it.” His gaze locks on mine. “Now it’s yours.”
My throat tightens. I can’t find words.
He lifts the necklace and motions for me to turn. I do. He brushes my hair aside and fastens it around my neck, his fingers lingering in a way that makes my breath catch.
I turn back to him, my fingertips resting over the diamond. A girl who grew up with nothing now carries the strength of his bloodline against her skin.
“This belongs to you now, mi amore,” he says, cupping my face. “Let it remind you of who you are to me. Of what you mean to this family. Of how I see you.”
For the first time in days, the fear loosens its grip. This moment stills everything.
I kiss him with everything I have left inside me. He pulls me into his lap, deepening it, his hand sliding up and down my spine as my fingers tangle in his hair.
This is peace.
But even as I hold onto it, I know the darkness hasn’t disappeared. Giacomo is still out there, waiting. Watching.
I push the thought away. Just for now.
Because I don’t know how many more moments like this I’ll be allowed before he comes back. And next time, I might not walk away at all.
27
MATTEO
Twelve years later…
I see the sliver of sunlight peeking in behind the curtain. My wife sleeps soundly beside me.
I always wake up extra early on her birthday. In recent years I know she humors me—pretends to sleep just to keep our little tradition alive.
I lean down and kiss the top of her head softly. She stirs just a little, but stays asleep.
I slip out of our room and find Daniele waiting in the hallway across from the door. He looks tired, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. The boy is nearly as tall as me now, and he’s grown to look just like his mother—but his eyes… those eyes haunt me.Hiseyes.
“Come, Danny boy,” I say, patting his shoulder, and we head to the kitchen.
We fumble our way through the recipe he picked. Some gluten-free nonsense I didn’t think would taste any good—but to my shock, it actually does.
“I told you, Papa,” he says smugly. “You should listen to me more often.”
He gives me a knowing look.
I shake my head and start walking with the breakfast tray. “Nice try, but you’re not getting out of training. I told you this, boy.”
