Page 94 of Cara

“I’ve been lenient with you, William. I have given you toomuch freedom. All these women… the late nights at the club… Do you think I didn’t know?”

My eyes close as I abandon the bed for the bathroom.

Hearing him speak like a Capo dei Capi, effortlessly delivering manipulations and threats—just like our fathers did—makes my mouth go dry. My hands become clammy as I twist the dial, letting a downpour flow from the shower nozzle.

This is who he is now… who he had to become when he saved you from hell.

Theleastyou could do is understand him.

After grooming and dressing, I finally gather the courage to step outside. Xavier’s phone lies silently on the coffee table.

I discover him in the kitchen, hands positioned on either side of the stove, watching an espresso percolator bubble away. He’s wearing only jeans, his sculpted back highlighted by the light filtering through the floral drapes.

He must sense my feet pattering on the tiles, but he only acknowledges I’m there when my arms wrap around him from behind, my lips kissing the curve of his back.

The tremor that runs through him, his fingers gripping mine on his stomach, brings back memories of the barriers we shattered throughout the night—how often he drew me to him to ensure my mind wouldn’t lapse. It hasn’t. The heat that simmers between my thighs as he reaches back to claim my hips is proof enough. “Did I wake you?”

I move my chin back and forth against him in response. “Trouble?”

My eyes follow him as he removes the percolator off the heat and pours the coffee into two mugs. He’ll drink his straight. A slow smile spreads across my face when he opens the fridge, pulls out the milk, and pours some into the other mug before adding a spoonful of raw honey.

It’s the little things.

He hasn’t responded yet.

I gather this is the moment he decides how much he wants me in this aspect of his life. He hands me the steaming mug, nodding in acknowledgment when I thank him, while his own cup tilts precariously. When he looks at me, I don’t think he notices that I'm barely breathing.

“A capo in South Beach left his post last night,” he says, gripping the edge of the counter. “The fuck-up resulted in your father slipping out of Strata’s villa undetected. It’s a fixable mistake, but it’ll take more effort on our part to locate him again.”

He demonstrates once more that I’m an absolute fool for doubting him. “Maybe this movement will create a window of opportunity for you.”

“Maybe.”

He takes a deep breath and gives me a serious look, indicating that we’re about to have a conversation neither of us might be ready for. The mug bearing Giulia’s name engraved in gold is warm in my hands. I haven’t even had the chance to ask him about her… or anyone else, and here we are, diving into this conversation.

“You need to go back,” I state, setting down the mug.

I'm not asking. I'm letting him know I’ve already pieced that together. Silence is his response. It does the job, offering me a glimpse into his mind space.

The cottage around us is a far cry from the Marcello estate, although both are extravagant. We knew when we came here that this seclusion wouldn’t last.

Still, it hasn’t been enough time.

There’s so much I could ask. What will our lives be like? How will Rosa cope with my return? Will it affect Isabella? Will we remain in the manor? How will we justify my disappearance?

Teeming with questions and frightened by the unknown, I stare into his eyes, neither of us speaking for a moment.

He opens his mouth only to close it swiftly.

A natural businessman, he eventually says, “I know better than to make promises I can’t keep, and I promised I wouldn’t lie to you. If you choose this, your reappearance will make waves. Hiding will be off the table for a while. People will expect to see us together in public frequently. The freedom you’re accustomed to—going out without security—will be impossible, especially with Strata and your father monitoring the streets. Even I can’t get around it.”

Is hetryingto dissuade me?

His lips form into a thin line before he continues. “When we lived in the city, we felt suffocated. This is worse.”

My blood has frosted over. “X.”

“In front of others, I could not confide in you. These men abide by custom… It’s in the fabric of who they are. I would do my best to keep them away, keep our lives as normal as possible, but there would be times when they would come to the house, and I would not be able to speak about dealings in front of you.”