Page 71

Something has changed between Melania and me. Something I never planned for.
I've known Enzo since we were teenagers. We've been through hell together, saved each other's lives more times than Ican count. We don't keep secrets from each other—not the kind that matter. Damiano, Enzo and I operate as a unit, our loyalty absolute. It's how we've survived this long.
Yet here I am, holding Antonio Lombardi's daughter while she sleeps, with marks from my mouth still fresh on her skin under her clothes.
Enzo catches my eye again in the mirror and raises an eyebrow. I give him a barely perceptible shake of my head. Not now.
He nods once, understanding without words. The conversation is coming—we both know it—but it won't happen with Melania beside me and Matteo in the front seat.
Melania wriggles slightly in her sleep, her body seeking more contact with mine. I adjust my position to make her fit better and my chest tightens when she sighs and settles deeper into me.
Damiano will need to know. So will Enzo.
I look down at her sleeping face, softer in unconsciousness than I've ever seen it. The sharp intelligence and wariness that usually animate her features are gone, replaced by a vulnerability that makes my protective instincts flare.
The irony doesn't escape me. I was assigned to be her captor and now I'd kill anyone who tried to hurt her.
The Maserati slows as we approach the wrought iron gates of the Feretti estate. They swing open silently, the familiar sight of the sprawling property brings a sense of relief—this is the closest thing to home I've had for years.
"We're heading straight to Damiano's office for a discussion," Matteo says, glancing back at me.
Enzo parks in front of the main entrance. "Especially about why you're holding Lombardi's daughter like she's made of fucking glass."
I ignore the comment and focus on Melania, who's still asleep against my shoulder. Her face is peaceful, all the sharp edges softened in sleep. I brush a strand of hair from her cheek.
"Melania," I say softly. "We're here."
She stirs, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment there's confusion in those amber depths, then recognition. She straightens immediately, pulling away from me as awareness returns.
"The Feretti estate?" she asks, her voice a purr from sleep.
"Yes."
We exit the car and walk toward the imposing front doors. They open before we reach them, revealing Ginerva's familiar figure. The older woman's eyes startle when she sees Melania but her professional demeanor never falters.
"Welcome back, Mr. Gallo," she says, then nods to Melania. "Miss."
"Ginerva," I say, "this is Melania Lombardi."
If the name surprises her she doesn't show it. She simply offers a warm smile.
"I need to speak with Damiano," I tell Melania. "You can go with Ginerva. She'll get you settled."
Melania's eyes dart between me and the others, uncertainty crossing her features. "How long will you be?"
"Not long," I say, though I have no idea if that's true. "Ginerva will take care of you."
I turn to Ginerva. "Take her to my room, please."
Ginerva's eyebrows lift questioningly but her smile brightens. "Of course, Mr. Gallo. This way, Miss Lombardi."
Melania hesitates, then nods. As she follows Ginerva toward the grand staircase she glances back at me once and the sentiment in her eyes makes my chest tumble.
"So, your room, huh?" Enzo says the moment they're out of earshot.
"Let's go." I say.
I follow Matteo and Enzo down the hallway to Damiano's office, the weight of what I'm about to do pressing down on my shoulders. The irony isn't lost on me. First Enzo with Sienna, then Noah with Evelyn. Now me. We've all fallen into the same trap—claiming women who should be untouchable, from people we're supposed to destroy.