She freezes.
I don’t.
“What?” she breathes.
“Marry me,” I repeat, stepping close enough that I can see the tremble in her lashes. “Let the world believe the child is mine. Let Giacomo believe it. He won’t touch you if he thinks you and your baby fall under my protection. Not unless he wants war with me—and with every man who answers to my name.”
Her lips part, then seal shut again.
“I can’t marry you,” she whispers. “That’s insanity.”
“Crazier things have worked.” My voice stays even, but inside everything feels razor-thin, delicate, like one wrong word will shatter the moment. “If you run without a plan, without a trace… he will track you down. You know he will.”
I lean in—not touching her, but close enough that my words bind to her breath.
“But if you marry me… if you take my name… you get protection. Real protection. My legacy becomes your shield, and your child gets a life that isn’t built on fear.”
Her gaze drops to her hands, fingers trembling faintly.
“My father’s debt,” she whispers. “My mother?—”
“I’ll erase it,” I say, my voice low, absolute. “All of it. And your mother will be under the care of the best specialists in the country. Whatever she needs, she’ll have.”
She lifts her head again, her eyes glassy but fiercely alive.
“Matteo… if I do this, if I marry you, he’ll see it as betrayal. As me choosing you over him. I know how deep the hatred between you runs. This will ignite everything.”
“I know.”
“And you’ll be dragged into this,” she whispers, voice trembling but steady. “More than you already are. This would make it official. Public. Irreversible.”
I step closer. Just one breath of distance between us now. Her lavender scent rises like a balm, softening the violent noise inside my head.
“I’m already in this,” I tell her, low and certain. “The night you stood on that rooftop, you became mine. Something pulled me toward you and hasn’t let go since. I don’t need a marriage certificate to feel it. But I’ll sign one; I’ll sign a hundred, if that’s what it takes to keep you safe.”
Her lips press together. A single tear slips free, then another, carving silent trails down her cheeks.
I hate seeing her like this—fragile, hurt, carrying burdens she never should’ve been asked to carry.
I close the final inch between us and take her hands gently in mine. I lift them to my lips, brushing a slow kiss across her knuckles. A vow without words. A promise already etched into my bones.
I will protect you.
“Marry me, Beatrice,” I say again. There’s no kneeling, no velvet box, no ceremony. Just truth, raw and unvarnished. “Marry me and let me protect you.”
The silence stretches. Heavy. Electric. Her hands stay in mine, not pulling away, not shaking. Just… there. Trusting me in this small, terrifying way.
“Marry me, Bea.”
I wait.
She nods—small, fragile, but enough to shift the axis of my entire world.
I pull her into my chest. Her body fits against mine like it was shaped to be held there. I press a kiss to the top of her head, letting the warmth of her seep into every place that has gone cold over the years.
“This could start a war,” she breathes, her palms resting over my heart.
“I know,” I murmur into her hair. “And I’ll win it. For you. For us.”
