Page 121 of Cara

Another nod. But this time, I manage to get a few words out. A plea. “Don’t let me go.”

Fear triggers irrational emotions, such as tears. I believe I hold them back before he notices, but my strained voice... I'm sure he heard that.

His caresses are tender, strokes meant to soothe. “Listen to me. We alone control what happens tonight. Not Vito. Not my father.”

“I know.”

“This is a new start. It may not be the start we wanted, but it’sours. The best revenge is this.” He releases my face, slipping his hand into mine and bringing it to his lips. My heart loses sense within me, and I understand him perfectly.

This—love.

It’s the one thing they couldn’t take from us.

“Are you two coming or not?”

Peering through the front door, Bo lifts his arms to draw attention to his watch.

Ignoring him, Xavier gauges my expression, and something in his eyes tells me he’d call this whole thing off if I truly wanted to. The tension between us crackles, but I flash him a confident look, knowing my decision was made the moment I jumped on a plane bound for New York.

I'm his.

And he knows it.

Squeezing my hand, he leads me out of the house.

Mimi and Delli are the only ones who utilize the well-stocked mini-bar throughout the torturous journey into the city. With Dario disrupting our usual informality by spending most of the drive rambling nonsense into his phone, there’s an air of distrust from Xavier’s closest friends, who barely say a word while their girlfriends enjoy conversation on the other side of the vehicle.

Every so often, Dario’s eyes drift toward us: Xavier and me in the farthest double seat, our entwined hands resting in my lap. His expression is unreadable, yet he continues to gaze.

I’m not sure what it signifies, but Dario was my father’s man before he became Xavier’s.

That alone ensures I’ll never trust him.

As twilight descends, Manhattan comes to life. The sunset outlines the sky-high skyscrapers, enhancing their supremacy over the city, while rows of pylon signs light up the streets. The flashing of red and blue overhead lights from cop cars set the scene as the limousine glides to a stop at the hotel’s curb.

The Bellare stands on the corner of a busy intersection, its granite facade contrasting with the city’s sleek glass structures. Its rich history has been diminished by patriotic banners and obnoxious portraits, and there’s really no mistaking that we’re in enemy territory. No one does greed like the rich. A crimson runner stretches down the perron steps, inviting New York’s elite to pose for photographs.

As Dante is the first to get out of the car, I brace myself with a hand against the window, damn near sick.Fuck.

I knew I’d be scared, butthis?

Xavier exits the vehicle to an absoluteuproar.

He was always popular as a bachelor, even more so after he married. The media made it their personal mission to track us down whenever we left the house, only to have their articlespulled after publication. But this is different. This makes me sink deep into the embossed leather, hesitating to reach for his waiting hand.

Victoria wasn’t lying about one thing.

Xavierhasbecome one of the most powerful men in New York.

“We’re safe,” Xavier says, knowing it’s the one thing I need to hear, whether it’s true or not.

Once I take his hand, stepping out onto the curb, all noise plummets to nothing. For a few seconds, there is absolute dead silence riding on every face etched with disbelief.

Just as easily as the noise faded, it returns—and it does so, tenfold. The camera flashes becomeblinding. An explosion of pandemonium swells into something that prompts Xavier to shoot a trained glance at the soldiers flanking us on all sides, who close in tighter.

When strangers surround us, I straighten my posture and raise my chin, reverting to the lessons my mother instilled in me from birth.

Eyes up. Smile. Never let them see a hint of weakness.