I press my face into his shirt, breathe him in, and finally let myself hold on.
Chapter Thirty Two
Mario
Victoria finally sleeps just before midnight.
It does not come easily.
She fights it for almost an hour, tucked into the bed in the guest suite with the fire still low in the hearth and my hand wrapped around hers. Every time her eyes close, her fingers tighten. Every sound beyond the room makes her body tense. Every few minutes, she opens her eyes and looks at me as if checking whether I am still there.
I stay.
There is nowhere else I would be.
When her breathing finally evens out and her hand loosens in mine, I sit there a little longer. Long enough to be certain she is under.
I watch her face in the soft light. The shadows under her eyes. The crease still faint between her brows. The bruise beginning to show on her upper arm where that man put his hand on her.
A damn shame he died before I could remove his hand personally.
I bend and press my mouth to Victoria’s knuckles before I ease my hand free. She stirs, but does not wake.
Rocco is outside the door. There's no one I'd rather have out there than my own personal bodyguard and head of security.
“No one disturbs her or enters,” I say. “She wakes, I know immediately.
He nods once. “Capito.”
I move down the corridor, then descend the stairs.
The house is quieter now, though not sleeping. It will not sleep tonight.
The war room should be my office.
Instead, it is my kitchen.
Matteo and Ricardo sit at the long table, each with a laptop open in front of him. A third laptop sits shut to the side.
Victoria’s.
For a moment, my gaze stays on it.
Her key had been in her purse exactly where she said it was.
She had looked so fragile and stubborn when she said it, insisting on the basic legality of entering her apartment while sitting in my house after someone tried to take her.
That thought should not amuse me. It does anyway.
Only for a second.
Then I remember why the laptop is here.
Matteo looks up first.
Ricardo does not, his fingers still moving over the keyboard, jacket off, sleeves rolled up.
“Have you found these articles Victoria was talking about?” I ask.
