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Chapter Twenty-Three

Viviana

The drive to the countryside is long, the tension in the car thick despite the stunning views outside the windows.

Romeo sits beside me, his usual controlled demeanor firmly in place, but I can feel the weight of his thoughts. His hands grip the wheel tightly, his knuckles white against the leather.

For once, Matteo isn’t with us, and the silence between us feels louder than ever.

When we finally arrive, the sight of Romeo’s estate takes my breath away.

The sprawling villa is nestled amidst rolling hills, its terracotta roof glowing warmly in the fading sunlight. Vineyards stretch out in every direction, rows of grapevines swaying gently in the breeze.

It’s a stark contrast to the suffocating tension of the city, and for the first time in weeks, I feel the faint stirrings of peace.

“This is where I come to think,” Romeo says quietly as he parks the car. His voice startles me, breaking the silence, and I glance at him. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something softer in his eyes, something I’m not used to seeing.

He adjusts his cuffs over the ink snaking up his arms. I think of the twisting, intricate patterns that spill over his chest and back. I haven’t been brave enough to ask him what they mean to him.

“It’s beautiful,” I admit, my voice hesitant.

“It’s safe,” he replies, his tone carrying a weight that makes my chest tighten.

The inside of the villa is just as breathtaking, with high ceilings, exposed wooden beams, and large windows that flood the space with natural light. Romeo shows me to a room on the second floor, the balcony overlooking the gardens below.

It’s luxurious but not ostentatious, the kind of place that feels lived in rather than simply displayed.

“You’ll stay here,” he says, lingering in the doorway. “No one will find you. Not even Salvatore.”

His words should be comforting, but they only remind me of the danger that still looms over us. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

***

Later, as the sun sets and the sky shifts into hues of orange and pink, Romeo finds me on the balcony. He leans against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“I never told you about my father,” he says suddenly, his voice low.

I turn to look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. “You don’t have to,” I say softly.

“No,” he replies, shaking his head. “I think I do.”

He exhales deeply, the sound heavy with years of unspoken pain. “My father was a cruel man,” he begins. “Ruthless. Violent. He built an empire on fear, and he ruled his family the same way.”

I stay silent, sensing he needs to let the words come at his own pace.

“Carlo shielded me from most of it,” he continues, his jaw tightening. “He took the beatings that were meant for me. He taught me how to survive in a world that only knew how to hurt us.”

His voice cracks slightly, and he pauses, running a hand through his hair. “When my father’s enemies came for us, they saw me as the weak link. Carlo knew that. He gave himself up to protect me. I let him.”

“Romeo…” I whisper, but he shakes his head, cutting me off.

“I held him as he died,” he says, his voice barely audible now. “He made me promise that I’d never let anyone I cared about suffer the way he had. That I’d do whatever it took to protect them.”

Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them away, unsure of what to say. The man before me isn’t the ruthless Mafia boss I thought I knew. He’s broken, haunted by a past he can’t escape.

“That’s why I’m like this,” he says, finally meeting my gaze. “Why I can’t let Salvatore or anyone else touch you. I’ve already failed you once. I won’t fail again.”

The raw honesty in his words leaves me speechless.

For so long, I’ve seen Romeo as the enemy, the man who tore me from my life and forced me into his world. I see the cracks in his armor, the pain he’s carried for years.

He’s not a monster.

He’s a man shaped by loss and desperation.

“I didn’t know,” I say quietly, my voice trembling.

“I didn’t want you to,” he admits, his tone softening. “You deserve to understand. You deserve more than what I’ve given you.”

Silence falls between us. Thick. Suffocating. I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet.

Eventually, Romeo says, “Walk with me.”

I glance up at him, searching his expression. There’s no command in his tone, no hint of the domineering man who’s dictated my every move. This is a request, not a demand.

“Okay,” I say, standing and brushing off my skirt.

He offers me his arm, and for a moment, I hesitate before placing my hand lightly on his. As we walk through the garden, the fragrant scent of blooming flowers filling the air, I can’t help but notice the way Romeo’s shoulders relax, his usual tension easing just slightly.

“I used to dream about having a place like this,” he says, his gaze sweeping over the vines and trees. “Somewhere quiet, away from everything.”

“Why didn’t you stay?” I ask, surprised by the admission.

“Because peace doesn’t last in my world,” he replies simply. “For you, I wanted to try.”

The words send a shiver through me, and I find myself glancing at him, searching for the man beneath the mask he wears so well. For the first time, I think I see him.

The garden stretches on, a maze of hedges and blooming flowers that sway gently in the breeze. It’s peaceful here, far removed from the chaos and violence that define Romeo’s world. For the first time since this nightmare began, I feel like I can breathe.

Romeo walks beside me in silence, his hands tucked into his pockets, his shoulders relaxed. It’s strange, seeing him like this—so different from the commanding presence he exudes in the city. Here, in the quiet of the countryside, he seems almost…human.

“Do you come here often?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“Not as often as I should,” he admits, his voice low. “This place was meant to be a sanctuary, but I’ve spent more time fighting to keep it than enjoying it.”

I glance at him, surprised by the honesty in his tone. “Why keep it, then?”

He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the vibrant greenery. “It reminds me of what’s worth protecting.”

His words hang in the air, and I don’t press further. Instead, I let my gaze wander, taking in the beauty around us. A rose bush catches my eye, its deep red blooms standing out against the green. Without thinking, I reach out to touch one of the petals, marveling at its softness.

“You should be careful,” Romeo says, his voice closer now.

I turn to him, confused, just as I feel a sharp sting on my finger. A hiss escapes my lips, and I pull my hand back, a small bead of blood forming where the thorn pricked me.

“Let me see,” he says, his tone shifting to something softer.

Before I can protest, he takes my hand in his, lifting it to inspect the tiny wound. His fingers are rough, calloused, but his touch is gentle as he turns my hand over, his thumb brushing against my palm.

“It’s nothing,” I mutter, trying to pull away, but his grip tightens just enough to stop me.

“Hold still,” he says firmly, though there’s no edge to his voice. He leans down, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapping it around my finger with careful precision.

Our hands linger, his larger and warmer than mine, and I find myself holding my breath.

There’s a tenderness in his movements that feels out of place, almost foreign, but I can’t bring myself to pull away. For a moment, it’s as though the world has stopped, and it’s just the two of us.

“There,” he says finally, his voice quieter. “Better?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. His eyes meet mine, and the intensity in them makes my chest tighten. There’s something unspoken in his gaze, something I can’t quite name, but it leaves me feeling unsteady.

“Thank you,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t respond, but his lips curve into a faint, almost imperceptible smile before he releases my hand. The warmth of his touch lingers even after he steps back, and I find myself wondering what just happened.

We continue walking, the tension between us shifting into something quieter, more fragile. Romeo points out different parts of the estate—the vineyard, the small pond near the edge of the property, the old stone bench hidden beneath a towering oak tree.

His voice is calm, almost reverent, and I catch glimpses of a man I never thought existed beneath the ruthless exterior.

As we pass a small cluster of fruit trees, he slows, his gaze flickering toward me. “You’ve been quiet,” he says, his tone almost teasing. “No sharp remarks? No accusations?”

I narrow my eyes at him, though there’s no real heat behind it. “Don’t get used to it.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and rich, and I can’t help the way it makes my stomach twist. It’s unfair, how easily he can disarm me when he’s like this—when he’s not the man who kidnapped me, but the man who just wrapped a handkerchief around my finger as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

We stop near a stone fountain, its surface covered in moss, the water trickling softly into the basin below. I lean against the edge, letting the sound soothe my frayed nerves, but when I glance at Romeo, I catch him watching me.

No—he’s not just watching me. His gaze is focused, sharp, and it takes me a moment to realize where his attention has landed. My hand instinctively moves to my stomach, my breath catching as I see the flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe even longing.

He says nothing, but the weight of his gaze feels heavier than any words. My pulse quickens, and I force myself to look away, my mind racing.

Does he know, has he pieced it together? Or is this just another layer of tension between us, another thing neither of us is ready to confront?

“You’re staring,” I say finally, my voice shaky but steady enough to mask the panic rising in my chest.

“Am I?” he replies, his tone casual, though there’s a slight edge to it. “I didn’t notice.”

His smirk is faint, but it’s enough to set my nerves on edge. I straighten, brushing past him as I move toward the next path, hoping to put some distance between us.

“Viviana,” he calls after me, his voice softer now. “Wait.”

I pause, my back to him, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. When I turn to face him I see the intensity in his eyes hasn’t faded.

“What do you want, Romeo?” I ask, my voice more tired than I intended it to be.

He steps closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “Just stay a moment,” he says quietly. “That’s all.”

I swallow hard, my defenses threatening to crumble under the weight of his gaze. For all his power, for all his control, there’s something vulnerable about him.

That vulnerability is the key to everything else.

But do I want him to have to surrender to me? Do I really want to break this man to remake him?

What if I can’t fit all the pieces back together again once he’s unmade?

I bite my lip. I have to try. He deserves to be healed, to be whole.

And I have to do it because…I love him.