Something in my chest buckles—something I’ve kept locked behind vows, behind discipline, behind the fear of becoming theman Giovanni raised me to be. It cracks open all at once, spilling heat and hunger and something terrifyingly close to devotion.
My voice breaks before I can stop it.
“Pia—God forgive me…”
But the second the words leave my mouth, I know they’re a lie.
God has nothing to do with this.God has nothing to do with her.God has nothing to do with me anymore.
It’s just us — her breath trembling through steel,and my body leaning into the door like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
My palms flatten against the cold metal. I lower my forehead to the spot where I feel the faintest warmth radiating from her side – even if its just in my mind. The chill bites into my skin, but she warms everything beneath it—rage, fear, desire, whatever the hell is left of my soul.
“Pia…”My voice is unsteady, scraped raw.“If you keep talking like that—I’m not walking away from you. Not now. Not ever.”
Her inhale stutters — a tiny sound, but it rips through me.
Slowly, softly, her silhouette leans into the metal on the other side, her body aligning with mine in perfect, impossible symmetry.
Her brow touches the steel where mine rests.Her breath fogs the surface — and mine merges over it seconds later, forming a single blurred shape.
The sight—two breaths becoming one — undoes me.
A low, broken sound slips out of my chest.Something starved.Something I don’t bother hiding anymore.
My hands slide down the steel until I find the imprint of her own.Two hands searching for each other through a barrier built for torture.
Her fingers twitch.Then…they spread, as if reaching for mine.
I mirror her.Our palms line up —not touching,but close enough that I swear I feel her heat bleeding through.
“Santino…”She whispers for the second time.“Come inside.”
My whole body tightens.Every muscle pulled like wire.Every breath a ragged, burning thing.
“Pia—”
“Even if you can’t open it,” she murmurs again, repeating with a tear in her voice this time.“Come inside.”
The meaning hits me like a blow.I grip the steel with shaking fingers.
“Say it again,” I breathe.
She does.
“Come inside….please!”
That’s it.That’s the moment.The one where every restraint, every vow, every lie I’ve used to cage myself…snaps.
My hands flatten against the door—drifting downward, sliding over cold steel until they land where her hips would be. I close my eyes and picture her — body leaning into mine,hips meeting my palms,head tipped forward in surrender.
The image is vivid.Perfect.Devastating.
“Pia…” My voice is a rough, tortured rasp. “If you touch me again through this door—if you breathe for me like that—I’ll break every lock in this fucking church to get to you.”
Her answer is a shuddering breath — a sound that tastes like surrender.
The air changes between us.Thickens.Charges.The small space of Giovanni’s torture chamber becomes something else entirely.
