Page 56 of A Match Made in Hatred

She nods. “Are you sure we have time for whatever we’re doing?”

“I’m making the time.”

A short while later,Emilia bites her lip and hesitantly meets my gaze only to look away. “Why are we here, Maximus?”

I gesture to the love lock bridge with a small sweep of my arm. “I ruined your last experience here, and I want to replace that memory with a different one, a better one.”

She gives me one of her smiles, and the urge to kiss her rises. “I have other memories,” she says.

“It’s not good enough.” I slide my arm around her waist and tug her so that our bodies are flush. Her curves press up against me, and that has me counting down the minutes until I can get her alone. “Hold out your hand,” I say, digging into my pocket. Once she does as I’ve instructed, I place the item on her palm.

Emilia’s eyes fill with tears the second she opens them, and guilt rears its head. I’m such a stupid asshole.

“This was a fucking terrible idea,” I mutter. Which a scowl, I reach for the gift, and she closes her fingers around it. “Give it to me.”

She shakes her head, compounding my confusion. “Maximus, I love this.”

I can’t help my expression of skepticism. “Then why the hell are you crying? You rarely do that.”

“I’m so touched you’d do this for me.”

Emilia sniffs daintily but doesn’t wipe her face. So I sweep my thumb across her damp cheeks. Her skin is blotchy from her tears, but she’s still beautiful. She gazes down at the shiny gold lock in her palm, the one engraved with her and her mother’s names. I hoped it would be a peace offering between her and me, to smooth over my past history with her. But if she’s acting like this with the lock, I’m not sure I should give her the other present.

She gets up on her toes and brushes her soft lips against mine. “Thank you. This means so much to me.” Her voice gets choked up again, and she clears her throat. “This memory is one of the best in my life.”

I give her a tight nod, still uncertain if I made the right choice. Emilia pulls away from me and stares at the bridge for a long time, and after several minutes, I contemplate whether I should help her. But finally she chooses a spot, and there’s a tiny click as she secures the lock. I walk over to her and rest my hand on the small of her back, offering my support with something other than words.

Emilia looks down at the key lying on her palm, and she whispers to it, telling her mother all the things she’s kept hidden inside her. That’s when I learn Emilia’s mother was murdered by Caruso because she tried to help two trafficked girls escape. My wife continues speaking, revealing personal thoughts and feelings I had no clue about, and eventually kisses the small piece of metal.

She tosses the key into the river and turns to face me, tears running down her cheeks again. I tighten my hold on her and use my free hand to tilt up her chin.

“That was…cathartic.” She inhales a shaky breath. “And I finally feel as if I have closure over her death. Thank you.” Emilia gives me a watery smile.

I lower my head as well as the volume of my voice. “You won’t thank me when I spank your ass raw for lying to me. You speak Italian, and from what I heard during your conversation with your mother,fluently.”

Emilia’s face blossoms with red. “And French.”

“No more secrets,” I growl.

She disarms me with a kiss. “Oui.”

I blow out a breath that’s partially a laugh, and with it goes my irritation. “Well, fuck it. I might as well make you cry some more.” My wife stiffens in my hold until she sees the object between my thumb and index finger. Tears well in her eyes, and I inwardly groan. “I fucking knew it.”

Emilia silently cries while I slide the diamond band onto her ring finger. “Stop that,” I snap. She grins at me and shakes her head. Her defiance turns me on like nothing else. “You’re definitely getting the belt,” I say with a firm nod. “No question.”

Her breath hitches, and her cheeks redden further. “Promise?”

“Fuck me.”

“Okay.”

I take her hand and all but drag her to the car with her laughter ringing out.

My wife’s name means “rival,” and that’s exactly what she was to me—someone I was in opposition to. Our marriage began on a battlefield, and I knew I’d be victorious because my name translates to “greatest.” And I won, but it wasn’t in the way I thought.

Instead of her pain, I won her heart.

Instead of her sadness, I won her laughter.

Instead of her death, I won her ability to bring me back to life.

Husband and wife, “greatest rival”—she and I against the world.