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Priest's trial was set to end on the following day. The media was ablaze with everything going on in such short proximity of each other. Leila had just been buried six feet under in the cold ground, and now Priest was set to face his fate in the courtroom. Frankie had resumed publishing cruel things about Priest inThe Times, and instead of using another writer as a scapegoat, she wrote each and every negative word on the page herself. It was like the perfect contrast. Leila was being praised and remembered for every good thing she did, while Priest was being crucified.

It definitely bothered Britain more than it bothered Priest.

Priest had already assured her that things were smoothed over and fine, but she still wanted to support him in the courtroom. She had witnessed every high and low the trial wreaked upon his life. The end of it would bring ultimate relief, and that was something she wanted to be present for, alongside everyone else who supported him from the beginning.

Now, lacking a connection toThe New York Timeswould make some draw a blank about why Britain was in attendance, while others would portray her as someone who played both sides in order to help Priest get ahead. If Priest gave her the permission to be at his side the following day, that was what she was going to do. Britain couldn't care less about the way she would be portrayed. Priest knew the truth, Frankie knew the truth, and most importantly, she knew the truth.

"I want you there," Priest asserted as he cupped her hand in his. A beaming smile made its way onto her face. She leaned in, pressing her plump lips against his.

Parting from the kiss, she let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God," she groaned victoriously. "If you didn’t, I wouldn't have given you a hard time about it, but I would’ve been a little sad," she confessed, causing Priest to chortle.

"That's not what I wanted to talk to you about, though.”

Oblivious to what else Priest could possibly be wanting to discuss, Britain eyed him with her brows furrowed in confusion. "What's the matter?" she asked with a concerned tone.

Priest really didn't want to go through with the conversation, but it wasn't in his character to not discuss drastic changes. She deserved a proper conversation and to have all her questions answered. "I still want you to come to Italy with me," Priest said with hope glimmering in his dark orbs.

He watched as Britain's shoulders dropped and a faint frown nestled onto her face. "P, Italy just isn't in my plans at the moment, especially not for as long as you’re planning to bethere," she explained to him once more. The thought of being secluded with Priest in the beautiful country of Italy was lovely, but Britain just wasn’t completely sold on the idea. She had a life in New York and a career she planned to thrive in. Leaving so suddenly with no explanation would just interfere with everything she wanted.

He sat his hands at her sides, bringing her closer him. "Gioia, could you just consider it?" his baritone voice sounded through her ears. Priest wasn't one to beg or push his efforts, but he sounded as if he was pleading with her. He knew his request was a lot to process, but he needed Britain to follow through with it for him.

She exhaled a deep breath. The fact that the discussion of Italy arose more than once was suspicious to her. They had made promises to each other that when everything was over and things panned out smoothly, Italy would be their go-to place to celebrate. It was evident that Priest's idea of Italy wasn't a quick vacation. He wanted to stay, and that wasn't something Britain was okay with.

Remaining firm on her decision, Britain shook her head. "I'm sorry, Priest, but I can't. Living in Italy would be great, but that happiness would just be based on bliss. I'm not ready to make such a big move. I haven't even established my career independently yet."

"Britain, there are tons of opportunities in Italy," he attempted to convince her. "I don't want to take you out of your element. I want to make sure you're comfortable. You'll get to decide everything once we get there: the house, the state, security or no security. I just need you there with me.”

His desperate need to go to Italy wasn't just based on the beauty of country. It was really based on having a peace of mind. He needed to be grounded again after the chaotic year he endured in New York. Italy had always been his safe haven,the place he visited to get his mind back on track. Now, with his traveling limitations being lifted as of tomorrow, he craved nothing more than the peace Italy gave him.If he stayed any longer in New York, he felt like he would be in constant war with himself. He couldn't handle that on top of keeping everything in order for his family as well. He needed a break, and he felt like requesting one should’ve been understood by everyone, especially Britain.

She rose from her seat, slowly pacing the floor before him. He allowed her the moment to gather her thoughts so she could respond to him. She halted her pacing, facing him with a questioning eye. "I feel like you've already made your decision," her light voice stated in deep sadness.

Priest cleared his throat, glancing away from Britain briefly. He slowly nodded, confirming Britain's assumption. "We leave on the jet this weekend," he informed her.

"We?!"Britain’s eyes widened in disbelief of his statement. "When did I agree to any of this?!"

"I know it's a reach, but?—"

"But nothing, Priest!" She shook her head. "We'll go to Italy for a week, relax, and get your mind off things and then we'll come back home," she told him, thinking her plan was far more reasonable for the both of them.

Priest breathed out a heavy sigh of defeat as he ran his hand down his face. "Gioia, I can't agree to that," he refuted.

Feeling her stomach churn and tie into knots, Britain’s feline-like orbs seared into his. Emotionally, she was in pain. Even though she and Priest were far from finished with their conversation, the way he was so adamant about Italy let her know that there was nothing that would change his mind. "So, what you're telling me is," she gulped down. "You're getting on that jet with or without me," she concluded in despair.Pursing her lips, she tried her best to keep her brewing emotions at bay."You've made up your mind already," her voice cracked as her eyes seared into his.

Pained and full of remorse, Priest nodded his head once more. "I have," he declared.

Britain stood before him, her umber shaded eyes hawking him. Her throat had grown dry, serving Priest absolutely no response. Her silence was suspenseful. Usually, she was never short of a response, whether it be good or bad. He watched as she turned on her heels, trudging out of the bedroom without a word.

Priest released a distressed breath as he rose to his feet. He followed the same path Britain had taken out of the bedroom, navigating toward the kitchen where she searched the cupboards. It was still her turn to speak, so instead of bombarding her with his reasons for leaving, he leaned against the wall, observing her.

Britain extracted a bottle of wine from the cupboard, roughly sitting the glass bottle down on the granite countertop. She then grabbed a wine glass and roughly sat it down next to the wine bottle. Wrapping her hand tightly around the bottle, she picked it up, popping the cork from the spout.

She eyed the dark tinted bottle of wine that she and Priest had crafted together during their date at the vineyard in the Hamptons. The two indulged in the bottle on special occasions or occasional date nights. It was the perfect mixture of them both. Sweet and delicate to appease Britain's taste, yet filling and earthy to appease Priest's.

Priest kept his dark orbs on Britain as she continued to eye the bottle. She had yet to pour herself a drink like she had intended to do when she stormed out of the bedroom. It seemed as though she had become more content with just looking at their one-of-a-kind bottle of wine.

Priest watched as she sat the bottle of wine down, putting the cork back into the spout. She placed the bottle back into the cupboard, substituting it for something stronger and harsher in taste. The clear vodka poured out of the bottle and settled into the wine glass.

Priest remained patient as she swallowed down the drink. "How long will you be staying?" she finally asked, shifting her eyes back up to him.