“My phone is always available for you,” he says, the warmth in his tone brushing against me like a hand I didn’t ask for but suddenly need. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I pause. I have to choose every word with care. No one should know. Not until I’m somewhere beyond reach. Not until I’m safe.
“I need your help,” I say.
There’s a subtle shift in the air over the line, a tightening, as if he’s sitting up straighter.
“What kind of help?”
“Nothing big, just—” My voice trembles, so I steady it. “It’s my parents. I need to get them somewhere safe. Somewhere far from here. Somewhere Giacomo won’t find them.”
A heavy silence fills the line.
“You think Giacomo would go after them?”
“I don’t think,” I say, gripping the phone until my knuckles ache. “I know. I just need a place that’s temporary. Quiet. Hidden.”
He exhales, the controlled kind that betrays the emotion he refuses to let leak into his voice. I’ve learned far too much about this man in too little time.
“I can make that happen,” he says. “Just tell me what you need.”
“Thank you.” My throat tightens, heat pooling behind my eyes. “But I’ll need to leave too. Not with them; I can’t put them at risk.”
“You’re running.”
Images from last night flash across my mind—his body close, his voice against my skin, the truth neither of us dared name—but I force them away.
“You were right,” I say quietly. “I deserve more than what I allowed myself to tolerate. And since you said you were willing to help me, I…”
The words slipout of reach; I can’t find the rest.
“I’ll help you,” he answers, soft but sure. “How soon do you want out?”
Relief floods through me so fast it nearly buckles my knees. “Tonight.”
A beat of silence. Then: “Okay. I’ll arrange it.” His voice hardens with purpose. “Come to my apartment. We’ll plan the next steps, get you packed, and I’ll have my men start on your documents.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice cracking despite my attempts to hold it together. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Beatrice?” His voice changes—gentler, deeper, stripped of the armor he shows everyone else.
“Yes?”
“I got you, okay?”
Something inside me steadies for the first time today. And against every fear clawing at my ribs, I believe him.
“Okay,” I say, and the word feels like a vow.
No matter what comes next, this child—mychild—will make it out of this city and into safety. And I will burn every bridge behind me if that’s what it takes.
17
MATTEO
True to her word, she knocks on my door exactly an hour after we last spoke.
The sound hitsme like a jolt. For a brief second, I don’t know which version of her I’m about to face. The last time I saw her, she had tears brimming in her eyes, kissing me goodbye like it was the last time, like she believed distance could sever whatever this is between us.
