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She presses her lips to mine and turns back to her painting. “I wish you could have met him. I think he would have liked you.”

I did meet him, amore. And I was the one to lodge a bullet into his heart.

25

MARIA

For seven days, the world outside doesn’t exist. Matteo and I vanish into the quiet luxury of the penthouse, wrapped in stolen mornings, hungry touches, and the illusion that time might bend for us.

But illusions never last. And I know, deep down, he’ll have to go back to the world that waits for him.

“Stop that.” I bump my shoulder against his arm. “How can you call yourself a New Yorker when you haven’t even tried Starbucks?”

I laugh at his contorted face. He stares at the vanilla latte I ordered for him in disgust. The chill of the air tints his cheeks pink, and he looks like he is seconds from having a coronary.

He shakes his head. “Whatever this is, it’s a crime against real coffee.”

“It is delicious,” I laugh and smile. “You have no taste for the finer things in life.”

“Of course I have a taste for the finer things, Maria.” He tosses the coffee in the trash without hesitation. “Tailored suits. Italian engines. A woman who can out-stare a storm. Butthat”—he nods to the cup—“that’s an insult to caffeine.”

The wind blows moving through my hair and momentarily covering my face. I pause and try to get the hair out of my face while trying to balance the coffee in my hands.

“Here, let me.” He moves the hair from my eyes. He cups my face and then presses his lips to mine, and I taste the vanilla on his lips. My body melts into his instinctively and I feel my feet rise above the clouds. He pulls away far too quickly from my lips and I whimper.

“Careful,” he whispers against my lips. You’ll get addicted.”

I bite down on my lip and look up at him through my lashes. “I could spend a thousand lifetimes with you and still not get enough. I thought you would know this by now.”

His gaze darkens with emotion. “Then one lifetime will never be enough—for either of us. I wish I didn’t have to leave you today.”

“And why must you burst my bubble?” I pout my lips and continue down the pavement. “I was happy, and now you remind me of the disappointment that waits for me when we get back home.”

Home. The penthouse still didn’t feel like home on its own. He needs to be in it for me to feel like it is. He is my home—my haven.

“Come now, amore. You know I need to work, and besides, there is still your perpetrator on the loose, and I need to figure out who it is.” He grabs my hand and interlaces our fingers. “I need to make this city safe for you again.”

I breathe a heavy sigh, and my breath mists in the fall air. “I know. But I got used to you being around. You were a nice distraction from everything.”

And by everything, I mean all the questions I have about what Daniele said to me. I still haven’t forgotten, and I am scared to bring it up with Matteo. I don’t want it to turn into an argument, but I know that eventually, I will have to.

But today is not that day.

“Why did you choose to live in the city? I know you have the Davacalli estate out north, and you loved it there from what I remember.” It is a question that I have been curious about for quite some time now.

Something flickers behind his eyes—just for a second. A shadow. A memory. He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, I think I’ve overstepped. But then he breathes out slowly, gaze fixed on something far away.

“When Beatrice died…” he starts, his voice quieter than before, almost hesitant. “The estate didn’t feel like home anymore. It became… a mausoleum. Every hallway echoed her laughter. Every corner whispered her absence. I’d sit on the porch and expect her to walk out, barefoot, smiling—and when she didn’t… it felt like the walls closed in.”

He swallows, and I catch the flicker of pain in his eyes, raw and unguarded.

“Grief… It’s a strange thing. It doesn’t scream. It seeps. It took everything I loved about that house and made it feel like a punishment. I couldn’t breathe there. I was a ghost among memories, and it was killing me slowly.”

I rest my forehead against his shoulder, keeping our hands connected, but he’s still staring ahead, like he’s looking back in time.

“Daniele was grown, off doing his own thing. I told myself it was practical, leaving. That the house was too big, too empty. But the truth?” He pauses, turning to me, eyes full of something so painfully human. “I ran. I ran from the silence. I ran from the guilt of surviving her. And I didn’t stop running… until you.”

I squeeze his hand, letting him know that I am here for him. The man has more demons plaguing him than I care to admit. He has seen many dark things and survived the worst of whatthe world has to offer. I know it’s not easy for him to let me in like this. I don’t take it for granted.