His mouth moved lower, his lips tracing the curve of my belly, his hands sliding down to my thighs. He parted them slowly, his gaze locking with mine as he dipped his head between my legs. My breath caught as his tongue pressed against my core, his mouth hot and wet, his beard scraping against my sensitive skin.
"Vittorio," I gasped, my hands gripping the sheets as he teased me, his tongue circling, dipping, driving me to the edge.
"Come for me, Sophie," he commanded, his voice rough and demanding. "Let me feel you fall apart."
I cried out, my body trembling as pleasure washed over me, waves of it crashing against me like the ocean outside. Vittorio drank me in, his mouth relentless, his hands holding me open as I shattered around him.
When he finally lifted his head, his lips were swollen, his eyes dark with desire. "Your turn," I whispered, reaching for him.
He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "Later. Right now, I just want to hold you."
He lay beside me, pulling me into his arms, his hand resting on my belly. For a long moment, we simply lay there, the sound of the waves a soothing backdrop to our silence.
"Do you ever think about what could have been?" I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitated, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin. "Sometimes. But then I look at you, at what we have, and I know this is exactly where I'm supposed to be."
I smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. "Me too."
As moonlight spilled across our tangled limbs, I looked into his eyes and found myself saying words I'd never imagined speaking to the man who'd once held me captive.
"I trust you completely. With our child, with our future, with everything. You've shown me who you really are beneath the monster everyone feared."
Something vulnerable flickered across his face—a glimpse of the man beneath the armor he'd worn for so long.
"Sophie," he whispered, my name a prayer on his lips.
I placed his hand on my belly, where our son kicked against his palm. "Tell me what you dream about," I said softly.
"This," he answered simply. "You. Our son. Watching him take his first steps on the beach. Teaching him to swim in that cove below. Growing old with you, far from the life I built."
I smiled, picturing it all. "We're not running anymore, are we? We're finally moving toward something."
The setting sun painted the ocean gold, casting long shadows across our room. As Vittorio held me close, I realized that somewhere between captivity and love, I'd found my home—not in this beautiful villa or any other place we might go, but in the arms of the man who had once been my greatest fear and was now my greatest hope.
As the stars continued their silent watch over the sea, I felt a peace I'd never known before. Vittorio's arms were my sanctuary, his heart my home.
In that moment, I knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it together.
CHAPTER 19
Vittorio
Eight months had passed since we'd abandoned our old life. I stood at the kitchen window, coffee forgotten in my hand, watching Sophie move through our small garden. Her belly was beautifully round now, straining against the light cotton dress that fluttered in the coastal breeze. She moved more carefully these days, one hand often resting protectively on her stomach as she bent to pluck a weed or harvest the herbs she'd insisted on planting.
"I’m growing food for our baby," she'd declared four months ago, hands on her hips, daring me to disagree. I didn’t. Instead, I'd built her raised beds and ordered the richest soil available.
Her laugh carried across our property, bright and uninhibited as she discovered something in the garden—probably another of the tiny lizards she'd become oddly fond of. That sound still caught me offguard sometimes. In our old life, laughter had been rare, a luxury we couldn't afford. Now, it filled our home daily.
I set my coffee down and stepped onto the terrace. The Mediterranean stretched before us, impossibly blue against the whitewashed walls of our villa. We'd chosen this remote stretch of coastline in southern Portugal carefully—far from the East Coast, accessible but private, a place where we could raise our son in peace.
My secure phone vibrated in my pocket. I tensed instinctively, old habits refusing to die completely. Eight months of safety hadn't erased decades of vigilance.
The message was from Enzo, arriving through channels so secure and circuitous that tracing it would be nearly impossible. I scanned it quickly, muscle memory from my previous life.
Transition complete. Organization stable. Legitimate businesses showing 18% growth. All loose ends secured. No inquiries about your location in 126 days. Your new identities remain clean. We're good, boss. We don't need you anymore.
A postscript followed:Lila sends her love to Sophie. Says to tell her the garden better have tomatoes.
