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"Stefano?" Her voice pulls me back. "Are you sure about this?"
I meet her eyes in the mirror, letting her see just enough of my hunger to make her breath catch. "I've never been more certain of anything."
Because how can I tell her that every moment she's away feels like bleeding? That the thought of her in that decrepit motel makes the monster in me rage? That I've already memorized how she takes her coffee, which side of the bed she prefers, every small detail that will help me bind her to me permanently?
Instead, I guide her toward the door, my hand possessive on her lower back. "Let's go collect your brother. Start building something new."
Something unbreakable.
Something she'll never want to escape.
"Okay," she whispers, and I taste victory on her lips when I kiss her.
Soon she'll understand—this isn't just about giving her a better life or protecting her brother. This is about claiming what's mine. About ensuring she never disappears again.
After all, every monster needs someone to love.
And I've finally caught mine.
CHAPTERNINE
Ava
Sunlight spillsacross Stefano's sheets. I stretch, noting sensations with the automatic precision my parents drilled into me. The silk against my skin, the lingering ache in my muscles from last night, the weight of Stefano's arm draped possessively across my waist.
Three weeks in this bed, and I still can't quite believe I'm here.
I turn my head carefully, studying his sleeping face. He looks younger like this, the sharp edges of power and control softened by sleep.
A lock of dark hair falls across his forehead, and my fingers itch to brush it back. I don't.
Can't risk waking him, can't let myself get any more tangled in this man than I already am.
But God, he's beautiful. Not in that polished, manufactured way most powerful men cultivate, but in the raw, dangerous way of predators. Even in sleep, his body radiates that contained energy that first drew me in.
That still draws me in, if I'm being honest with myself.
Which I'm not. Can't be. Not when everything about this situation is built on lies.
The morning light catches on his tattoos. I've memorized every line, every shadow. Not because I want to, but because that's what I was trained to do. Notice everything. Remember everything. Use everything.
The thought sits heavy in my chest, mixing with guilt and something else I refuse to name.
He shifts slightly, arm tightening around my waist, and I freeze. But his breathing stays deep and even.
Still asleep. Still trusting me completely.
The city is already humming with morning traffic. My world and his, separated by glass and wealth and choices I never wanted to make.
Somewhere out there, the Fioris are waiting for intel I can't bring myself to provide, one way or another.
I allow myself two more minutes of watching him sleep.
That's my rule lately—strict time limits on any behavior that feels too real, too dangerous.
Like how I only let myself kiss him first when we're alone, or how I count backward from sixty whenever he looks at me with that intensity that makes me forget why I'm here.
Two minutes. One hundred and twenty seconds of pretending this could be my life.