Page 36
Story: Obsidian Devotion
He touches my chin, tilting my face up to his. “Only for you. Don’t spread rumors—I have a reputation to maintain.”
I lean into him, our foreheads touching. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Later that night, when everyone has gone to bed, I find Lorenzo standing in what will become the nursery. His back is to me as he gazes out at the sea, shoulders straight but somehow vulnerable in the moonlight.
“What happens if she asks about her other family someday?” I ask softly, voicing the fear that sometimes keeps me awake. “What do I tell her about my brother? About Carlos?”
Lorenzo turns, his expression solemn. “We tell her the truth. That families are complicated. That people make terrible mistakes.” He crosses to me, taking my hands in his. "That sometimes vengeance leads to love, and love is worth protecting at all costs. ”
“Even when I came to you under false pretenses?” I whisper. “Even when I betrayed you?”
“Sofia,” he says my name like a prayer, “you freed me from years of rage and suspicion. You gave me a future to look forward to instead of a past to avenge. Everything else is just… details.”
I shake my head, marveling at how completely our roles have reversed. “I spent two years planning to destroy you, and now I can’t imagine my life without you.”
His hand slides to the nape of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. “That’s the thing about fate, amore mio. It has a way of correcting itself. "
“Is that what we are? Fate?”
Lorenzo’s smile is slow, predatory, and achingly familiar. “We’re whatever we choose to be. Kings and queens of our own kingdom.” His hand drops to my stomach. “And now, parents.”
I laugh softly. “Just promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“No matter what comes—rival families, old vendettas, new threats—we face it together. No secrets. No lone-wolf heroics.”
Lorenzo’s brow furrows slightly. “You know who I am, Sofia. What I do.”
“I’m not asking you to change,” I clarify. “I’m asking you to include me. To trust me as your partner, not just protect me as your woman.”
He studies me for a long moment, and I see the calculations behind his eyes—the old instinct to shield me from his world.
“Partners,” he says finally, extending his hand as if we’re sealing a business deal.
I take it, but pull him closer until our bodies are flush against each other. “Partners,” I agree, sealing it with a kiss that promises far more than words ever could.
Outside, the Mediterranean laps gently against the shore. Inside, within the walls of this building, a new chapter begins.
We’ll never be an ordinary family with
white picket fences and Sunday dinners.
The scars on Lorenzo’s knuckles remind me of that. That holstered gun at his back reminds me of that.
The men stationed discreetly around the perimeter of the property remind me of that. The nightmares that still wake me sometimes, memories of that night, with Carlos remind me of that. Our love story is written in blood and bullets, in betrayal and redemption.
But it’s ours. Every dark, beautiful moment of it.
Tomorrow, Lorenzo will return to business calls and territory negotiations. I’ll continue adapting Isabella’s nightclub management strategies to our new venture in Sicily. Our daughter will grow completely aware of what she’ll inherit.
For tonight, though, we’re just a man and a woman standing in the moonlight, learning to trust in a future neither of us sawcoming. A future carved from the ruins of vengeance and built on the unlikely foundation of forgiveness.
“I love you,” Lorenzo whispers against my hair.
“I love you too,” I reply, meaning it with every fiber of my being.
And at this moment, that’s enough. More than enough. It’s everything.
THE END
I lean into him, our foreheads touching. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Later that night, when everyone has gone to bed, I find Lorenzo standing in what will become the nursery. His back is to me as he gazes out at the sea, shoulders straight but somehow vulnerable in the moonlight.
“What happens if she asks about her other family someday?” I ask softly, voicing the fear that sometimes keeps me awake. “What do I tell her about my brother? About Carlos?”
Lorenzo turns, his expression solemn. “We tell her the truth. That families are complicated. That people make terrible mistakes.” He crosses to me, taking my hands in his. "That sometimes vengeance leads to love, and love is worth protecting at all costs. ”
“Even when I came to you under false pretenses?” I whisper. “Even when I betrayed you?”
“Sofia,” he says my name like a prayer, “you freed me from years of rage and suspicion. You gave me a future to look forward to instead of a past to avenge. Everything else is just… details.”
I shake my head, marveling at how completely our roles have reversed. “I spent two years planning to destroy you, and now I can’t imagine my life without you.”
His hand slides to the nape of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair. “That’s the thing about fate, amore mio. It has a way of correcting itself. "
“Is that what we are? Fate?”
Lorenzo’s smile is slow, predatory, and achingly familiar. “We’re whatever we choose to be. Kings and queens of our own kingdom.” His hand drops to my stomach. “And now, parents.”
I laugh softly. “Just promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“No matter what comes—rival families, old vendettas, new threats—we face it together. No secrets. No lone-wolf heroics.”
Lorenzo’s brow furrows slightly. “You know who I am, Sofia. What I do.”
“I’m not asking you to change,” I clarify. “I’m asking you to include me. To trust me as your partner, not just protect me as your woman.”
He studies me for a long moment, and I see the calculations behind his eyes—the old instinct to shield me from his world.
“Partners,” he says finally, extending his hand as if we’re sealing a business deal.
I take it, but pull him closer until our bodies are flush against each other. “Partners,” I agree, sealing it with a kiss that promises far more than words ever could.
Outside, the Mediterranean laps gently against the shore. Inside, within the walls of this building, a new chapter begins.
We’ll never be an ordinary family with
white picket fences and Sunday dinners.
The scars on Lorenzo’s knuckles remind me of that. That holstered gun at his back reminds me of that.
The men stationed discreetly around the perimeter of the property remind me of that. The nightmares that still wake me sometimes, memories of that night, with Carlos remind me of that. Our love story is written in blood and bullets, in betrayal and redemption.
But it’s ours. Every dark, beautiful moment of it.
Tomorrow, Lorenzo will return to business calls and territory negotiations. I’ll continue adapting Isabella’s nightclub management strategies to our new venture in Sicily. Our daughter will grow completely aware of what she’ll inherit.
For tonight, though, we’re just a man and a woman standing in the moonlight, learning to trust in a future neither of us sawcoming. A future carved from the ruins of vengeance and built on the unlikely foundation of forgiveness.
“I love you,” Lorenzo whispers against my hair.
“I love you too,” I reply, meaning it with every fiber of my being.
And at this moment, that’s enough. More than enough. It’s everything.
THE END