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"Don't." Her voice shakes. "Don't you dare touch me like that. Like nothing's changed. Like you haven't turned everything into this...this prison."
The rejection hits harder than it should. It makes the monster in me want to grab her, force her to acknowledge what's still between us. I want to force her to admit that her body betrays her every time I'm near.
Instead, I let ice replace fire in my veins. Let the mask of control slide back into place.
"You're right." My voice comes out cold, clinical. "This was a mistake. You're nothing but a distraction now, one I can't afford when I have the Fioris to deal with."
She flinches like I've struck her.
Fuck.
"Perfect." Her laugh holds no humor. "Go be the big bad Monster of Chicago. That's all you're good for anyway, right? Violence and control and making everyone around you miserable?"
The words are designed to wound, and they do. But I don't let it show. Can't let it show. Not when there's still so much at stake.
"Get some rest, Mrs. Rega. You'll be a widow by morning if I don't focus on what matters."
"And what matters?" She wraps her arms around herself, suddenly looking very young and vulnerable despite her anger. "Your empire? Your reputation? Your need to own everything and everyone around you?"
"Keeping you alive." The words come out sharp. "Keeping our child safe. Keeping your brother from being carved into pieces by people who'd kill us all without hesitation." I move toward the door, needing distance before I do something we'll both regret. "Even if it means being exactly the monster you think I am."
"Stefano..."
But I'm already gone, slamming the door with enough force to rattle the frame.
Fucking hell!
My phone buzzes. Tomasso with another update—they’ve moved the boy to another location.
Shit.
Time to focus on what I can control. What I can fix. What I can protect through violence and money and all the other tools at my disposal.
Because love clearly isn't enough. Never has been. Never will be.
And I have a war to win.
Even if it means losing the only battle that ever really mattered.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
Ava
The hotel roomcould be beautiful, if I bothered to notice. Floor-to-ceiling windows, designer furniture, views that go on and on, much like Stefano’s penthouse. But all I see are the exits I can't use, the doors I'm not allowed to open.
It’s a cage, no matter how gilded.
My wedding ring catches in the light, mocking me. The ceremony was hours ago, but it feels like another lifetime. Like something that happened to someone else.
Maybe it did. Maybe that girl who dreamed of Montana and freedom died somewhere between the diner and this room.
I pace the perimeter again, registering details out of habit. There are two guards outside the door. I can hear their quiet movements. There’s another team on the floor below, watching the windows. The ventilation system is too small for even my slender frame. The balcony is tempting, but the drop would...
I stop that thought cold. Potential suicide isn't my style. Never has been. The D'Amatos are survivors, if nothing else. We adapt. We plan. We find solutions others miss.
But right now, all my available options lead nowhere.
Tony's silence eats at me worse than any physical pain. Is he hurt? Scared? Does he hate me for getting him into this mess? The Fioris aren't known for their gentle handling of hostages.