16
SILVO
Istride down the hallway, my footsteps echoing off the marble floors. My mind is consumed with thoughts of the Moretti situation. Strategies forming and discarding themselves with each passing moment. So focused am I on my own thoughts that I nearly collide with Carmela as she rounds the corner.
“Whoa, easy there,” I say, my hands instinctively reaching out to steady her.
Her green eyes flash with surprise, then soften when they land on me. After last night and this morning, there’s a new ease between us—fragile, but real.
“Silvo,” she says, her lips curving into a small smile. “Everything okay? You look tense.”
I realize my jaw is clenched tight, my shoulders rigid. “Just came from a meeting with my father. Nothing for you to worry about.”
Her smile fades, replaced by concern. “The Morettis?”
I’m surprised she’s picked up on the family dynamics so quickly. “You’re observant.”
“I pay attention.” She reaches up, smoothing the furrow between my brows with her thumb. The gentle gesture catches me off guard. “What did he say?”
I hesitate, the instinct to shield her from the darker aspects of my world warring with a newfound desire to include her. “He’s handing over full control of operations to me. The Morettis have been pushing boundaries, and he wants me to handle it.”
Carmela’s hand drops to my chest, resting over my heart. “That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“It’s what I was born for.” But saying it out loud, with her looking at me like that, makes the weight feel heavier somehow.
“Still,” she says softly, “it’s okay to admit it’s overwhelming.”
Her understanding, her willingness to see beyond the role I’m expected to play, loosens something in my chest. I pull her closer, not caring that we’re standing in the middle of the hallway where anyone could see.
“Last night,” I murmur, my lips brushing her temple, “this morning—that’s what I need. You. Us. It’s the only thing that makes sense anymore.”
She tilts her head up, her green eyes searching mine. “I’m scared, Silvo.”
“Of me?”
“Of how much I’m starting to need this. Need you.” The confession seems to cost her something, vulnerability shining in her gaze.
I cup her face in my hands. “Then don’t fight it anymore. I’m done fighting it.”
“What if I lose myself?”
“You won’t,” I promise, my voice fierce. “I’ll never let that happen. Your fire, your independence, your strength—those are the things I’m falling for, Carmela. I don’t want to change you. I want all of you, exactly as you are.”
Her breath catches, and for a moment, we just stand there, the weight of what’s building between us heavy in the air.
“I don’t want to lose myself to this marriage,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s more to me than just being Mrs. De Luca, your wife.”
Her words pierce through me, and I understand completely. I take a step back, giving her space to breathe.
“You’re right,” I say, meaning it. “Being my wife will never eclipse who you are, Carmela.”
She blinks, surprise flickering across her features as if she hadn’t expected me to understand.
“You’re a force of nature,” I continue. “Fierce, passionate, uncompromising. Those are the qualities that drew me to you from the moment we met. I don’t want you to lose that fire, that essence that makes you who you are.”
Her gaze holds mine, searching for any hint of deception, but finding only sincerity. Slowly, the tension in her body begins to dissipate, and she offers me the faintest of smiles.
“Thank you, Silvo,” she says softly. “I needed to hear that.”
