I took a careful step toward her, my eyes tightening suspiciously. “Why the fuck not? It’s everything you ever wanted.”
“A boy needs his mother…and his father.”
“What are you saying?”
“Can you forgive me for killing your mother and trying to kill you?”
“Only God forgives, dolcezza. Can you forgive me for killing Cosimo and fucking you against your will?”
“Can we forget then? Call it even? For Mario?”
I closed the distance between us with another stride. “Just for Mario?”
She shrugged, twisting her lips. “Maybe not just for him.”
I knocked the knife off her grasp and pushed her to the wall. Then I kissed the fuck out of her. “No more shit.”
“No more shit.”
“No leaving the Mafia. I’ve talked to the Dons, told them everything about Vincenzo. They were finally convinced the Lanzas are to be trusted again. No more danger.”
“Why don’t we just fake our deaths and disappear somewhere? I still have the fake passports Cosimo made for me and Mario. I’m sure you have your own, too.”
“We’re not leaving. With our kind of fucked up, we’re tailor-made for this life. Don’t pretend your moral compass is pointing North. Not anymore, Signora Lanza. You were born for this shit, just like I was. We’re fucking royalty. We were born to rule, not to hide.”
She stared at me for a few moments. Then she nodded in understanding, as if she finally comprehended there was no point fighting what she was. It was time she accepted herself, her darkness. It was time she understood she had to go through all this to end up right where she belonged. It wasn’t with Alfarez. It wasn’t with Cosimo.
It is with me. She belongs to me. She was born to be with me.
“We were born for each other,” she whispered, as if she heard my thoughts.
“Yes.” I brushed her cheek with the back of my hand. “No leaving me. Ever.”
“When you’re in, you’re in for life. I should have understood that before it was too late.” She pursed her lips. “Would you have ever given me that divorce?”
“You know the answer to that, just like you knew he was the one kidnapping you that night.”
A beautiful smile stretched her lips before she pressed them to mine.
“I think I’m in love with you, puttana.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“No. Sei le mia puttana.” I cupped her pussy. “Whose pussy is that?”
A smile shivered on her lips, but she wouldn’t speak.
I choked her. “Say it.”
“Yours.” She trembled. “Yours, Enzio.”
Finally. I’d been waiting for weeks to hear it. My hand slid down to her chest. “Whose heart is that?”
“I thought you didn’t care about owning my heart.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said…puttana?”
“I said stop calling me that.”
