“Why is that?” she whispers, locking her eyes with mine.
“Because I was yours from the moment I saw you,” I say. “The very first time, across a room full of people who didn’t matter, you were the only thing I could see. I told myself it was nothing. I told myself that for a long time.”
She searches my face.
“And now?” she breathes.
“Now I’m done lying to myself.” I pull back just enough to look at her properly, the way she deserves to be looked at.
"Ti vogghiu beni, Kat."My voice drops.“I’m never letting you go.”
She smiles, her eyes full of tears.
“Te amo, Damiano. But you already know that.”
Chapter 26
Katarina
The next day
Pop! Pop-pop!
The recoil jolts my arms as I pull the trigger. I stand in the shooting range alone, the weight of the gun feeling lighter in my hand the longer I practice.
I like the noise and the smell of gunpowder that comes after every shot. It stops my mind from going somewhere I don’t want to follow. The silence is where Mateo lives now. He’s there with the guilt, and the questions I’ve yet to find the answers to.
What kind of person falls in love in the middle of all this?Another question that keeps echoing in my head, bringing shame.
I pull the trigger again, and for one second, my mind goes blank, and I can breathe easier.
“You’re leaning too far back,” a man’s voice calls out, pulling me out of my focus.
I click the gun’s safety on and turn. A smile tugs on my face when I see Julian standing by the wall of weapons, the sleeves of his white button-up rolled up, carrying two bottles of water.
“Mateo always said my stance is fine,” I say, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
Julian walks over and hands me a bottle of water before letting out a small huff.
“You know that angel in the garden fountain you love so much?” He tilts his head. “Right now, she has a more relaxed posture than you do. You’re too stiff.”
I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me. “Are you mocking my poses? Need I remind you, I’ve done years of modeling?”
“If a pigeon landed on your head, I’m convinced you wouldn’t even blink,” he says with a grin. He reaches out, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His hand lingers there, cupping my cheek.
For a moment, it just feels like us again. Like Buenos Aires. Like before the nightmare. The past few days had been so thick with tension between us. He barely talked to me, and for a moment, I thought he was mad at me. So now that he’s here, handing me water and making stupid jokes, something in my chest quietly unknots.
I let myself relish the feeling for exactly one breath until he speaks again.
“Don’t you miss modeling? I know Mateo would hate this, hiding in this basement, shooting guns all day.” He says the word guns as if it tasted badly in his mouth. As if he’s not walking around carrying one all day.
“Mateo isn’t here, Julian,” I whisper.
“I know.” He sighs. “But I am. And I miss theDarling of Argentina.”
I look away, not really knowing what to say.
He pauses, his thumb tracing the healing bruise on my jaw. “Damiano is trying to play a hero, but he’s just a thug with a big bank account. He loves controlling you. He’s teaching you how to be like him, so you have no choice but to stay.”
