“I’m sure,” I say finally, voice steady. “She’s not going back. Not to her father. Not to Gallo. She’s staying with me.”
Marco lets out a slow breath, rubbing his jaw as he keeps his eyes on the road.
“The reason I’m saying this is because from what I’ve seen of Eleonora, she would do anything for her family. She was willing to marry Gallo herself just so her sister Sienna could run off with her boyfriend. If you marry Eleonora, that puts her sisters at risk. Gallo will still want the alliance one way or another. That means he’ll go after one of the younger sisters next. And Eleonora won’t be able to protect them anymore.”
He pauses, letting the weight of it settle.
“So if you go ahead with this marriage discussion with Massimo, Eleonora isn’t going to be happy that you took that choice away from her. She’s the protector. That’s who she is. I’d advise you to think this over carefully. Maybe even talk to her about it first.”
I look out the window, exhaling a harsh breath through my nose. Marco is right. Eleonora would give her life for her sisters without hesitation. She already tried once.
If I marry her, I’m removing her from the equation, and Gallo will simply move on to the next Caruso daughter.
I drag a hand down my face, jaw tight.
I have to find a way to convince her to marry me… and still keep her sisters safe.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Nico
I get home with this restless itch under my skin, the kind I haven’t felt since I was a fucking teenager.
All I want is to see her. To walk into our room, find her waiting, maybe curled up in my shirt again.Ourroom. The thought stops me for half a second on the stairs. It’s no longer just mine.
I push open the bedroom door and freeze.
The bed is empty. The lights are on, but the room feels too still. It’s past ten. She should be in here by now, maybe reading or pretending not to wait for me. A flicker of unease hits me.
I head downstairs, checking the kitchen first. Empty. The living room. Empty. My pulse kicks up. I pull out my phone and call her guard.
“Where is she?” I demand the second he answers.
“She was already in bed when I left my post, Boss. I checked on her before my shift ended.”
I hang up without another word. Anxiety coils tighter in my chest as I move through the house. Where the hell is she?
Then I hear the rhythmic thud of fists hitting leather coming from the gym.
I push the door open and find Eleonora in there, barefoot, in a pair of gym shorts and one of my old t-shirts, throwing punches at the heavy bag.
Her form is surprisingly decent. She’s putting real power behind each hit, sweat glistening on her skin, hair tied back messily. She doesn’t hear me come in.
I walk up behind her quietly and place my hands over hers on the bag, guiding her stance.
“Like this,” I murmur close to her ear. “Shift your weight. Better punch.”
She startles hard, breath catching, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she lets out a soft, breathy sound that goes straight to my cock.
“You're meant to focus and not relax.”
“How am I supposed to focus when you’re distracting me like this?” she mutters, but there’s no real bite in it.
I smirk against her ear. “So now you’re blaming me for not paying attention?”
She huffs but adjusts her stance like I showed her and throws another punch. It lands cleaner this time. I step back, watching her.
“Not bad,” I say. “Impressive, actually.”
