I’m adding the last few brushstrokes when Carlo’s phone rings.
The sound cuts through our peaceful bubble like a knife through silk. I freeze, brush halfway to the canvas, my heart immediately starting to race. Carlo’s expression shifts from relaxed contentment to sharp alertness in an instant.
Calls are for emergencies only.
I hurry over to the dresser where I keep Carlo’s phone. The caller ID makes my blood turn to ice water.
Dario Ajello.
Carlo’s boss. The heir to one of the most powerful crime families in London. The kind of man who doesn’t call for social chats, who expects immediate answers when he reaches out. If Carlo doesn’t answer, Dario will think something has happened to him...
Images flash through my mind with horrifying clarity. Armed men attacking the Russians, rival families, whoever they decide to pin Carlo’s disappearance on. A war between crime empires, blood spilled because of my selfish desires. People dying because I couldn’t bear to let Carlo go.
Dazedly, I realize I’ve drifted over to Carlo. Subconsciously seeking safety. My port in any storm. The one person in the world who always makes everything better.
Numbly, I hold up the phone so he can see the screen. Our eyes meet across the small distance between us, and I can see the same understanding reflected back at me. This is it. This is how it ends.
“Ginni,” Carlo says softly, his voice carefully controlled. “I need to answer this.”
My carefully constructed paradise is about to come crashing down, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Carlo will answer the phone, and within hours this beautiful dream will be over.
But I can’t let innocent people die because of my choices. Whatever the cost to my own happiness, I can’t be responsible for starting a war.
With my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter, I answer and put the call on speaker.
“Everything alright, Boss?” Carlo says, his voice steady and professional despite the circumstances.
“Yes,” Dario’s familiar voice fills the room, warm and casual. “Just calling to let you know dinner’s been canceled tonight.”
My chest tightens with desperate fear. I checked Carlo’s schedule obsessively before bringing him here. There was no dinner planned with Dario tonight. This is a test, a way for his boss to check on him without arousing suspicion if someone is listening. A simple code that tells Carlo to confirm his safety or signal for help. Some pre-arranged phrase or word that no one else knows.
Silent tears start streaming down my face as I stare at Carlo. This is it. Within hours, men will be breaking down the door. My beautiful, impossible love story will end in violence and blood, just like everything else in our world.
I don’t know why I’m so upset. I always knew it could end this way. Either something like this, or my parents returning from holiday. Our time here in my basement love nest was always limited. There was always a chance it would be over before I managed to get Carlo to see sense and realize we are perfect for each other.
But all the logic in the world can’t heal a breaking heart. And mine is breaking. I can feel it. Tearing in half. Destroying itself. I had one chance for love. One chance for happiness, and I’ve lost it.
Carlo will never be mine now, and my family are going to put me away in an institution. My life is over. My hope is crushed. I have nothing. Nothing and no one. And now I never will.
Carlo stares back at me, his dark eyes unreadable. I can see him thinking, calculating, making the choice that will determine both our futures. His lips part slightly, and I brace myself for the words that will destroy everything.
He licks his lips and sighs, a sound that seems to come from somewhere deep in his chest.
“Tell Molly he owes me a tiramisu,” Carlo says.
The casual fondness in his voice freezes my mind completely. His tone was warm, relaxed and at ease. It clearly was the code for saying everything is fine.
It is so utterly and completely different from what I was bracing for, that for a long moment I can’t even begin to process it. There are no thoughts in my head. Only static.
Dario chuckles on the other end of the line. “You’ve just won me a hundred pounds. Molly and Dante both bet you’d been kidnapped and weren’t really taking time off. I told them you were probably just lying on a beach somewhere eating too much and forgetting the rest of us existed.”
“Smart money,” Carlo laughs, and the sound is so natural, so perfectly him that I can barely believe this is happening. “Sorry to disappoint them, but I’m exactly where I want to be.”
“Good for you. Enjoy your break, you’ve earned it. See you when you get back.”
The line goes dead, leaving us in silence that seems to ring with possibility.
I stare at Carlo, hardly daring to breathe. He had a chance to leave, to end this, to return to his normal life. Dario was right there, ready to send help, ready to rescue him from his obviously deranged captor.
