Page 111 of Accidental Alliance

I close my eyes for one second, then I turn slowly. Elio stands a few feet away, dressed in a simple black shirt and pants provided by Davide.

Nothing about the clothes is remarkable, but on him the simplicity looks almost obscene.

The bruise along his jaw has faded to a dull shadow. Stubble darkens his cheek. His eyes look too alert, haunted as if sleep no longer comes to him.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The terrace is too small with him on it.

The guards below are suddenly too far away, though I know one shout would bring half the house running.

The stone railing digs into my back as I unconsciously step away from him, but there is nowhere to go that does not look like I’m retreating out of fear.

He stops where he is, hands loose at his sides. “I didn’t mean to corner you.”

A bitter laugh leaves me. “That would be a first.”

“I deserve that,” he says quietly.

“You deserve a lot of things.”

“I know.”

When his face tightens, my heart clenches with a dull pain. I am tired of hurting him, which only infuriates me more. I want him to argue. I want the old, arrogant underboss who could turn anything into a command used to inflict pain.

That man is easier to hate. This one, the one standing beneath moonlight with tired eyes, is dangerous in an entirely different way than I’m used to.

I fold my arms across my chest protectively. “Why are you really out here?”

His gaze shifts briefly past me, toward the dark grounds below. “I… wanted to ask you something.”

The hesitation is what sets my nerves on fire. Elio Conti is not one to hesitate. Or at least, he never has, from what I’ve seen.

He has always commanded, demanded, decided even when he was wrong.

He has always worn certainty like a weapon polished to a shine. Now his voice catches on the edge of whatever he has come out here to say, and some traitorous part of me braces for the blow to come.

“What?”

His eyes close briefly. Pain flashes across his face as if he already knows the question will hurt both of us but still cannot stop himself from asking, anyway. “Is he mine?”

For one suspended second, there is no terrace or guards patrolling the grounds below us. No Davide or Alessio poised on opposite sides of the battlefield. There is only that one, singular question.

My throat tightens. “Don’t.”

Of course he finally asks when the house is quiet and there is no strategy left between us to hide behind. When Elio’s eyes open, they lock on mine with a devastation so naked, I almost look away.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, stepping closer to me. “I need to hear it from your mouth.”

The stone railing is cold against my back, my whole body going rigid when it digs into my spine. I hadn’t realized I retreated until there was nowhere left to go.

He stops when he notices, but the space between us has already narrowed until we’re barely a few inches apart.

“You need?” I echo. The bitterness in my voice surprises even me. “That is an interesting choice of words.”

His jaw flexes. “Please, Isabella.”

“If he is, what then?” I say, voice shaking despite how hard I fight it to remain steady.

Elio’s dark eyes lock on mine, fierce and unyielding. For one heartbeat, I see the possessive flash I’ve come to know so well. The old Conti instinct that claims whatever it touches.