“Fine,” I say to my father. “Set it up.”
The meeting concludes with my father promising to reach out through neutral channels. Everyone filters out of the study, the weight of our decision hanging heavy in the air. I linger, watching Carmela exchange quiet words with Isabella before she turns to me, ready to leave.
Back in our wing of the house, she kicks off her heels and curls into the corner of our sofa. I pour us both a drink—scotch for me, red wine for her.
“You’re not convinced this is the right move,” she says, accepting the glass.
I settle beside her, the leather creaking beneath my weight. “It’s not about being right. It’s about survival.”
“Then why do you look like you’re marching to your execution?” Carmela’s voice softens as she shifts closer. “Talk to me, Silvo.”
I take a long swallow of scotch, letting the burn settle in my chest. “The Morettis can’t be trusted. This could be an elaborate setup. Maybe Nico is working with Alexei.”
“Or it could be a genuine opportunity to end decades of bloodshed.”
“That’s naïve, Carmela.” The words come out harsher than intended. “Men like Nico Moretti don’t suddenly discover peace and forgiveness. Something else is at play here.”
She studies me over the rim of her glass. “So what’s your alternative? More deaths? More retaliation for something the Moretti family didn’t even do?”
The question hangs between us. My phone buzzes in my pocket, rescuing me from answering.
My jaw clenches as I read it. “Nico Moretti has agreed to meet,” I tell Carmela, setting down my glass. “Neutral ground. Tomorrow night.”
“That’s good news, isn’t it?”
“There’s a condition.” I meet her eyes. “He’ll only meet with my father and me. Alone.”
Carmela’s face pales as the implications sink in. “Alone? No protection?”
I shake my head, tension coiling in my gut. “Just me and my father facing the man who’s made it his life’s mission to destroy our family.”
“It’s a trap.” Her voice trembles, fear creeping in around the edges of her words.
The same thought has been cycling through my mind since reading Marco’s message. “Possibly. Probably.” I drain the rest of my scotch. “But refusing looks like weakness or fear. Either way, we lose standing.”
Carmela sets her wine glass on the side table and rises from her spot on the sofa. My eyes follow her movements as she approaches, her expression a complex mixture of fear and determination. Without a word, she climbs onto my lap, her thighs bracketing mine as she wraps her arms around my neck.
The weight of her against me grounds me, pulling me back from the edge of my darkest thoughts.
“I just want us to live in peace, Silvo,” she whispers, her forehead pressed against mine. “No more looking over our shoulders. No more midnight phone calls about dead soldiers. No more wondering if today might be our last day together.”
Her vulnerability cuts through me, sharper than any blade. I slide my hands up her sides, over her shoulders, cupping her face between my palms. Her skin is warm beneath my touch, reminding me of everything I stand to lose.
“I want that too,” I murmur, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens with the urgency of our shared fear. When we break apart, I trail my fingers down her neck, over the curve of her breast, worshipping her with my hands. “But sometimes this world is not so simple. Peace comes with a price, and I’m not convinced Nico Moretti is willing to pay his share.”
I cradle Carmela’s face in my hands, struck by how much has changed between us. What began as a cold arrangement, astrategic alliance between families, has somehow transformed into something I never thought possible. Something I never thought I deserved.
“Whatever happens tomorrow,” I whisper, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone, “know that meeting you—being forced to marry you—was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Even though I fought you every step of the way?”
“Especially because you fought me.” A smile tugs at my lips. “You never let me get away with anything. You challenged me, pushed me to be better.”
Carmela’s hands tighten on my shoulders. “Promise me you’ll be careful tomorrow. Promise me you’ll come home.”
The fear in her voice tears at something deep inside me. I want to promise her the world, want to swear I’ll return unharmed, but we both know better than to tempt fate with empty assurances.
Instead, I pull her closer, eliminating the space between us. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to end this war and come back to you.”
