“This ring means something to me, Emily,” he said. “It was my mother, Amara’s wedding ring, the one my father gave her. I never thought I’d find a woman I could love the way he loved her... someone I’d want to give this to with everything I am.”
A stray tear slipped down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away, overwhelmed by the weight of his words and the magnitude of the moment. Carlo’s voice softened as he went on, “I know I’m not good enough for you, but thank God I’m selfish enough not to let you go.”
I laughed through my tears, muttering a curse under my breath. He leaned in, his tone deepening, thick with sincerity. “You’re the first and only woman I’ve ever truly loved. The first I’ve ever built a life with. I love you, Emily. I love kissing you, touching you. I love the way you curl up next to me in the middle of the night when you’re cold, like a little kitten. But most of all, I love that you love me. Emily Stewart, will you marry me?”
A laugh bubbled up between my tears, and I answered without hesitation. “Yes.”
Relief and joy lit up his face as a slow, genuine smile spread across his lips. With careful hands, he slid the ring onto my finger, then leaned in and kissed me, a kiss full of feeling, pure and real, stripped of lust, grounded in something much deeper.
We stood there on the hill, facing the lake as the sun climbed higher, our breaths rising in the cool morning air. The engagement ring sparkled on my finger, catching the pale light like a tiny flame flickering in the stillness.
That moment, quiet, intimate, filled to the brim with love, felt like something out of a painting. A living memory I knew I’d carry in my heart for the rest of my life.
***
Hand in hand, Carlo and I stepped into Brando’s room. The sight of him panicked me; his limbs were wrapped in thick casts, but it was his face that hit me the most. Bruised, battered, and swollen beyond recognition, it barely resembled the Brando I knew. I hesitated, glancing at Carlo, who silently squeezed my hand tighter.
“A month from now, he’ll be back to the same old Brando,” he said, trying to sound composed. “With that big, annoying mouth of his.”
He sat down beside the bed, his gaze heavy with regret and sorrow. I stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder in a quiet offer of comfort.
“This isn’t your fault, Carlo.”
“Yes, it is,” he replied without a second’s hesitation. “I let him down. I didn’t protect my only brother. Maxim warned me about Aldo more than once, but my fucking pride kept me from pulling my head out of my ass and seeing how much Brando needed me, how much he means to me. I wanted to break him, but I forgot that he’s the man I raised… and he’s not going to break.”
He buried his face in his hands, muttering curses under his breath. I wanted to soothe him, but before I could say anything, I noticed Brando stirring, his swollen face twitching like he was fighting to wake up.
“I think he’s waking up.”
Carlo lifted his head instantly and leaned in close. “Brando,” he said gently.
Only one of Brando’s eyes managed to crack open, the other was too swollen to move but a low groan escaped his lips. Carlo reached for his hand, holding it with a tenderness I’d rarely seen in him.
“Are you in pain?”
Brando’s gaze flicked toward him, disoriented. After a few moments, his lips parted and a shaky, hoarse whisper came out. “Carlo? What... what happened?”
Carlo pressed the button beside the bed to call for the nurse, his face etched with guilt. “I’m sorry, Brando. I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner. But what matters is that I got you out of that hell alive.”
Moments later, a nurse entered the room, and Carlo’s voice regained its familiar command. “My brother’s awake. He’s in pain.”
The nurse gave a brisk nod and moved quickly, checking Brando’s pulse before injecting something into his IV.
“He woke up briefly before you got here,” she said. “The doctor already confirmed his vitals are stable and there’s no sign of brain trauma. But he needs rest. Try not to overstimulate him,” she added before quietly stepping out.
Brando’s face began to relax as the medication took effect. He looked at Carlo in disbelief. “You attacked the Giuliano house… to save me?”
Carlo gave a small smile, gripping Brando’s hand again. “With two armies. From the ground and the air. Like those war stories I used to tell you when you were a kid.”
“That was suicide. You could’ve been killed.”
“I couldn’t let them butcher my only brother,” Carlo said, his voice steady but loaded with emotion. “It’s us against the world, remember?”
Brando, still groggy and fading fast, closed his eye again and gave Carlo’s hand a weak squeeze. “I remember, Don Carlo. Us against the world.”
Carlo’s lips curved into a small smile as he leaned down and kissed Brando’s forehead. “Don’t worry. In a few days, you’ll start to feel a hell of a lot better, and you’ll be back home before you know it. And to give you a little extra motivation, I’ve already captured Aldo and everyone who was involved. They’re waiting for you, to tear them apart personally.”
Despite the exhaustion etched into his features, Brando managed a crooked little smile before sleep pulled him under again.
