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Matteo lets out a low breath, shaking his head. “I have no idea where my son’s head is. I have tried to speak with him but he doesn’t want to speak with me. Giacomo has corrupted him and made him feel like he can’t trust me—like he doesn’t know me.”

Even with Daniele having sided with his enemy, Matteo still speaks of him as his own. I can see the pain swimming in his eyes. I can hear the anguish laced in his words.

There is blood on the Davacalli name—even Faravelli blood.Could this be what he meant when he saw me that day? Is this what he had been trying to hint at all this time?

I hesitate, watching the way his expression hardens when he says it. “He will come to his senses eventually.”

His dark gaze snaps to mine. “I don’t know, amore. I know my son pretty well, and I feel as though he has made up his mind when it comes to this. I am the bad guy in this story. I don’t know how much Giacomo told him of what he did to his mother, but I’m sure it wasn’t the full truth.” His voice lowers, dark and unforgiving.

I swallow, gripping the sheets beneath my fingers. “So you should tell him. As much as I think he feels betrayed and hurtto learn that you aren’t his true blood, he should learn the kind of man you are. The man who took in a woman who was scared out of her mind and chose to raise a child who did not share an ounce of his DNA.”

I don’t know if my words ease anything within him. He remains rigid and stiff as a board.

Matteo turns so that the majority of his body is facing me. He cups the side of my face, and the pad of his thumb strokes my cheek. His touch leaves little hot trails of tingles up and down my cheek. I lean into his touch, and when I turn, I kiss the inside of his palm tenderly.

A weighted silence stretches between us.

I place my hand on top of his and grip his large one tighter. “You won’t lose me, Matteo. I know you are scared, and you feel a little out of your depth. But you won’t lose me, okay? We have come way too far to let things like this break us apart.”

Matteo watches me. The shine in his eyes penetrates right through me, and I feel warmth spread throughout my body.

“You won’t lose me,” I reassure him again, wanting him to know that I am not going anywhere. I am here with him. I will move through the storm with him. “We will get through this. If war is where we have to be, then war we shall have.”

The air sits softly with my confession that lingers in the air. I mean every single word that I utter.

“You,” he murmurs, his voice rough, “are the one thing Giacomo won’t take from me. I won’t just kill for you, Maria. I’d suffer, crawl through fire, lose everything—die a thousand deaths—if it meant keeping you breathing.”

“I’m not willing to lose you. We get out of this together, or not at all. I want to hold your hand at the end of it all.” I pull his hand from my cheek and thread our fingers together. I kiss each one of his knuckles, and then I tuck our joined hands under my chin.

A slow, steady beat of silence passes between us.

It’s not a shock that I am falling in love with this man. He has captured my heart and pulled me into his web, and now I can’t get free. Not that I want to be freed.

I lean forward and press my lips to his. I moan into his mouth, and my muscles relax. Our tongues move in perfect sync. The familiar dance that only our tongues could understand continues. It’s this ebb and flow of emotion that passes through our bodies and settles deep into the marrow of our bones.

Every time we collide, it’s like this cosmic out-of-this-world experience.

When we break apart, I am left breathless. My chest heaves up and down as I try to bring more air into my lungs. I look up at him through my eyelashes and catch his heated stare.

“Shower?”

Blood rushes down to my core, and I smile, already knowing where this is heading. “Shower.”

He gets up from the bed and pulls me toward the shower so we can get ready for this new day.

The water pours over our bodies, hot and unrelenting, but it’s nothing compared to the heat between us. Our mouths collide like we’re starved—tongues tangling, teeth grazing, lips swollen from the force of it. It’s messy and intense, but it’s ours. This is how we come together: fierce, raw, no holding back.

Every time he kisses me like this, it feels like the first time—and the last. Urgent. Desperate. Fated. It’s not just lust, it’s gravity. Matteo isn’t just touching my body—he’s claiming every inch of it.

The steam swirls thick around us, fogging the mirrors, clinging to our skin. It feels like we’re suspended in another world. A private one, where nothing exists outside this shower but his breath against mine and the need spiraling through me like wildfire.

When he pulls back, I’m panting. My lips are tingling. His eyes are locked on mine, sharp and dark, but there’s something softer buried beneath the heat—something that makes my knees weak.

“I’m starving,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing. “Think I’ll start with breakfast.”

My brows furrow, breath hitching, but then—he sinks to his knees.

The cool tile presses against my back as he guides me gently, reverently, and something tightens in my chest. I’m already trembling, and he hasn’t even touched me yet. He looks up at me like he’s about to worship, not devour.