Giana swallowed hard, trying to wrestle the emotion back under control, but it was spilling over. "You could have died out there, Rodrigo. Do you understand that? You could have bled out on some godforsaken roadside, or been taken, and I… I would have… I would havelostyou when I only just…" She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening as if she'd said too much, a flush creeping up her neck.
Rodrigo's heart slammed against his ribs. His hands moved to cup her cheeks, tilting her head up.
"When you only just what, Giana?" He leaned closer, his breath against her lips. "Sayit."
She tried to pull back, but he held her fast. "Let me go," she whispered, but there was no real force behind it.
"No." His thumb brushed the frantic pulse point under her jaw. "Say it. Why does the thought of losing me scare you so much? Is it just the protection? The strategic alliance?"
He saw the flash of hurt in her eyes at that, the way her lips pressed into a thin line. His voice softened. "Or is it something else? Tell me."
Tears finally spilled over, tracing hot paths down Giana's cheeks. She stopped struggling, her body going still in his grasp, her gaze locked on his with utter helplessness.
"How dare you?" she breathed, her voice thick with tears and fury. "How dare you make me feel this way about you? I was meant to hate you forever. It was the only thing that kept me sane all these years."
Each word was a lash, but he barely felt them. He was focused on the raw confession trembling beneath the rage.
"And now?" he prompted, his own voice barely a rasp. His heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest.
"And now… Now I just…" She squeezed her eyes shut, as if the admission was physically painful. "Now I only just realized I fucking love you, you impossible, infuriating bastard! How dare you make me love you when you could have gotten yourself killed over something so stupid?"
Hearing the furious admission spill from her lips was like being hit by a truck all over again, but this time, the impact was pure, blinding light.
All the carefully constructed walls, the years of enforced control, the monstrous persona he wore like a second skin crumbled in an instant.
The pain, the exhaustion, the looming war… None of it mattered. Only her. Only this furious, broken, breathtaking woman who loved him despite it all.Loved him.
A sound escaped him, something between a gasp and a groan. He didn't think. His hand tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck and kissed her.
He poured everything into it that he had locked away for years—the obsessive watchfulness, the fierce protectiveness, the bone-deep terror of losing her, the soul-crushing weight of his own monstrosity, and the fragile, impossible hope that hadflickered to life the moment she had demanded a seat beside him.
He kissed her to try and express all the words he couldn't say into the fierce pressure of his lips, the demanding sweep of his tongue. He tasted the salt of her tears, felt the tremor that ran through her body, the initial stiff surprise melting into a shuddering response as her hands came up, not to push him away, but to dig her nails into his chest, and hold on.
Rodrigo finally broke the kiss, gasping for breath, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling in ragged pants.
"Giana," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion, his thumb brushing away a stray tear track on her cheek. "I love you too. Always have. From the moment you spat at my mother.Always."
He saw the shock register in her eyes, followed by a wave of hope breaking through the remnants of anger.
"Good. Otherwise, I would have just made a complete ass of myself," she whispered, and he laughed softly.
"Now what are we going to do?" he asked, his arms wrapping around her.
Giana's eyes glinted with heat and mischief. "Actually, I have one or two ideas."
35
Giana stood within the circle of Rodrigo's arms, pressed against the bare, damp skin of his chest, the frantic hammering of his heart echoing her own.
"Are you going to share those ideas with me?" he asked and kissed the tip of her nose, her cheek, her brow.
"Rodrigo," she said, trying to get the courage to tell him what she wanted. "I need you to help me with something."
He frowned slightly, confusion crossing his features. "Help you with what,amore?"
The endearment, spoken so softly, sent a fresh wave of heat through her.
"That night. In Florence. When I made you watch… I want to remake that memory. With you."
