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I lost myself in the heady fusion of our bodies, in the exquisite pleasure that erased all thoughts, all worries, all doubts.

As the waves of passion ebbed, I held her close, our breath mingling in the aftermath. “I love you, Dante,” she whispered, as she tightened her arms around me.

“Te amo, mi reina,” I said against her hair, my lips pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Always.”

We lay entwined, our breath and heartbeats slowly syncing, our bodies still joined in the languid aftermath of our lovemaking. Her soft curves molded against mine, her head resting on my shoulder as she played with the hairs on my chest.

I could stay like this forever, just the two of us, suspended in this bubble of tranquility. But the reality of our situation wouldn’t be denied. It lurked in the corners of the room, a shadow waiting to pounce the moment we lowered our guard.

Natalia stirred, her breath catching as if she, too, sensed the approaching storm. “Dante,” she whispered. “What are we going to do about Reynolds and your father?”

I kissed the top of her head, my lips lingering on her silky hair. “I don’t know, mi vida. But we will figure something out. Together.”

She nodded, her body tensing against mine. “Before Reynolds framed me, Morrow told me to take the file he had found on Reynolds to the U.S. Attorney’s Office. Their prosecutors can indict Reynolds if they have enough evidence.”

I sat up, propping myself on one elbow as I turned to face her. “That’s good news, baby. Where’s the file now?”

Pain flashed in her eyes, and I knew the answer before she spoke. “Gone. When I got arrested, Reynolds took it and probably had it destroyed.”

A growl built in my throat as I imagined getting my hands around Reynolds’ scrawny neck, watching the light fade from his cold, dead eyes.

Natalia must have seen the murderous thoughts crossing my mind because she laid a gentle hand on my chest. “What’s on your mind, Dante?” she asked, reading me like an open book. “Spill it. Did something happen with your father?”

I grimaced at the mention of Ricardo, my stomach churning at the thought of the monster who had raised me. “What if I’m turning into him?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise at my outburst. “What?”

I ran a hand through my hair, struggling to put my jumbled thoughts into words. “I... I almost beat the shit out of that sleazebag Allen yesterday. And Sofia walked in on it. She hates me now, Natalia. I saw it in her eyes. Jesus, I’m just like my dad. A violent, impulsive brute.”

Natalia placed her hand over mine. “No, Dante,” she said firmly, her eyes locking with mine. “You are not like him, and you never will be. You’re nothing like your father.”

Her voice was confident and unwavering, and for a moment, I let her conviction wash over me. But the doubts wouldn’t be denied. “How can you be so sure? Who’s to say I won’t turn into another Ricardo, dragging my family through the mud of danger, violence, drugs, and murder?”

Natalia’s eyes softened, her hand squeezing mine in reassurance. “Because I know you, Dante. I see the real you, the man you are deep down.” She paused, searching for the right words. “Underneath all that anger and pain, you have a heart of gold. Yes, you may have a bit of a temper, and you’ve done some questionable things. But it’s different. You’re not cold and ruthless like Ricardo. You’re not evil. You’re passionate and loyal. You feel things deeply, and you care about your family, maybe too much. You’d never intentionally hurt them.”

Her words settled over me, a soothing balm to my troubled soul. “I hope you’re right,” I said, unable to keep the doubt from creeping back in. “But what if I’m only fooling myself, lying to you and everyone else, pretending to be someone I’m not?”

Natalia’s eyes flashed with determination, and she propped herself up on one elbow, leaning closer. “You’re not lying, Dante. I know you. I see the real you, and you are absolutely nothing like your father.”

Her gaze was steady, her conviction unshakeable, and I felt the tension within me begin to ebb. I wanted—needed—to believe her. “But what about Sofia?” I asked. “I failed her, and I hurt her. How can I make it up to her?”

“We’ll talk to her, Dante,” Natalia said, her voice calm and reassuring. “We’ll explain that you only wanted to protect her, and she’ll understand. I won’t let her hate you, Dante. Not when I know how much you love her.”

Natalia’s faith in me was unwavering, an anchor in the tempest at hand. I cupped her face, my thumb gently brushing her cheek. “You’re right, mi vida,” I said. “You always are. Thank you.”

We snuggled close for a minute then suddenly Natalia jerked. “Holy shit, Dante, wait. I just remembered something. Morrow might have had a copy of the file.”

My eyes widened at the prospect, hope sparking within me. “What? Where?”

Excitement flashed in her eyes, and she sat up. “Every time I would zoom call Morrow, I noticed the painting behind him was always at a slightly different angle. Like it’s been moved and then put back. Maybe that sly old dog was hiding something behind that painting.”

“Then we need to take a look,” I said, reaching for my pants.

Natalia’s eyes flicked to my bare chest, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Can it wait?”

But before I could say a word, Natalia pounced on me, her hungry lips crashing into mine. I groaned, my hands roaming her body, desperate to feel her silky skin and every luscious curve.

“I think that can be arranged,” I managed to say, my lips still glued to hers as my hands traveled down her back.