"No."
She blinks. "What?"
"The six-month agreement." I stand, both hands flat on the desk. "Whatever you're about to say, if it involves leaving… no."
"Salvatore—"
"I would burn this city to the ground before I let you walk out that door, Valentina." My voice is steady, absolute. "I would raze every street, every building, every empire I've built. I would turn it all to ash before I let you go."
Her lips part.
"The agreement is over," I continue. "There is no six-month limit. There is no out. You don't get to dream of leaving because you're not leaving. You're mine. You have been mine since the moment you walked into my world, and you will be mine until the day I die."
I move around the desk, closing the distance between us.
"You had your chance and chose to stay, now, you’re stuck with me forever. So whatever this is," I gesture to the careful way she's standing, the measured look on her face, "if it's about leaving, the answer is no. You're not going anywhere."
The silence stretches between us.
She is watching me with that look she gets, the one that strips the Don right off me and finds the man underneathShe has always been able to find him. From the very beginning, she has seen straight through every wall I built, and she has never once used what she found there against me.
That is one of the incredible things about her.
Valentina
He is standing two feet away with his jaw set and his eyes burning, and he just told me I'm not leaving.
Not asked. Told.
Salvatore Vitale, the man who once promised to honor a six-month agreement, just ripped it up and set it on fire.
Before I even said what I came here to say.
I shake my head, smiling. The fact that he thought I was leaving and his first response was an absolute, unequivocal no.
"Salvatore." My voice is not entirely steady. "I wasn't going to say I'm leaving."
He goes very still. "You weren't."
"No." I step closer.
"I cannot imagine my life any other way," I say quietly. "Without your family. Without this house, which, yes, I've made cozier, and no, I'm not sorry about the cushions."
Something flickers in his expression.
"Without Matteo arguing with me about the staff schedules, and Elio leaving books on my desk without explanation. and Raffaele pretending he doesn't have a soft spot for the stray cat that's been living by the east gate for three months."
He doesn't interrupt.
"Without you." The words settle in the air between us. Simple. Absolute. "Without—"
I stop.
I reach into my pocket.
The test has been there since this morning, since I stood in the bathroom for twenty minutes trying to find the words, since I walked down the hall and appeared in his doorway with my careful face on, prepared to say: we need to talk.
Not because I was afraid of how he would respond.
