"No, you're being paranoid." Her voice rises. "This is what you always do. You let someone get close, and then you panic and push them away. You did it with Bianca too, before..."
She stops abruptly, knowing she's crossed a line.
I feel my face harden, jaw clenching so tight my teeth might crack. "Don't."
"I'm sorry," she says quickly, regret flashing across her face. "That was unfair. But Damiano, if you love her, why are you trying to find reasons not to trust her?"
"Because the last time I trusted someone with my heart, I found her bleeding out on our bedroom floor." I yell at her, not wanting to but I can't control it.
The silence that follows is heavy enough to crush us both.
"So that's it?" Lucrezia finally asks, her voice quieter now but still edged with disappointment. "You're goingto sabotage your chance at happiness because you're afraid?"
"I'm trying to protect this family," I snap, but the words sound hollow even to me.
"No," Lucrezia says, shaking her head. "You're trying to protect yourself."
I watch Lucrezia's face crumple, her eyes filling with tears. She shakes her head slowly, as if she can't bear to look at me anymore.
"You're a coward, Damiano," she whispers. "A fucking coward."
Before I can respond, she turns on her heel and storms out of my office, slamming the door so hard the framed photos on my wall rattle. The sound echoes through the room like a gunshot.
"Fuck." I grab the first thing my fingers touch—a crystal paperweight—and hurl it against the wall where it shatters into a thousand glittering pieces.
Pain and fury knot together in my chest. My little sister has never spoken to me like that. Never looked at me with such disappointment.
I slump into my chair and bury my face in my hands. The worst part is knowing she's right. I am a fucking coward. Afraid of my own feelings, afraid of trusting anyone, afraid of losing control.
My head throbs with each beat of my heart. Everything I've built, everything I've fought for—what's the point if I can't even let myself feel something real?
I pull open the bottom drawer of my desk and take out a bottle of Macallan 18, not bothering with a glass. The burn of whiskey down my throat does nothing to dull the ache in my chest.
The irony doesn't escape me. I've eliminated enemies without hesitation, taken over territories, built an empirewith blood and bullets—and here I am, brought low by something as simple as falling in love with my own wife.
Pathetic.
I take another long pull from the bottle and lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. Lucrezia's words replay in my mind: You're trying to protect yourself.
Maybe she's right. Maybe I am sabotaging the only good thing that's happened to me in twelve years because I'm terrified of feeling that pain again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I'm stretched out on my bed, phone in hand, thumb hovering over Scarlett's contact. I need to talk to someone who isn't part of this twisted world I've found myself trapped in. Someone who still sees me as just Zoe, not Damiano's wife or Byron's weapon.
My phone lights up with an incoming call, and my stomach drops when Byron's name flashes across the screen. I've been avoiding his calls for days now, letting them go to voicemail and sending vague text responses later.
But I can't keep dodging him forever.
I take a deep breath andpress accept.
"Hello, Byron." I keep my voice neutral, giving nothing away.
"Zoe." His tone is sharp with disapproval. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me."
I sit up straighter against the headboard. "I've been busy."
"Too busy to update me on your progress?" The familiar guilt-inducing cadence is there, the subtle reminder of everything I supposedly owe him. "It's been two weeks since your last report."
