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Chapter Thirty-Two

Romeo

The message arrives while I’m in the study, reviewing plans to secure the remnants of my territory after Salvatore’s demise. Matteo enters, his face grim, holding a phone in his hand. One look at his expression tells me it’s bad.

“You need to see this,” he says, his voice low as he hands me the device.

I glance at the screen, my stomach knotting as Salvatore’s voice says, “Come to me. Alone. No Romeo, no guards, no tricks. Your father said I could have you, and I will. I’ll tolerate the baby until you can give me an heir. Then we can send it back to him, and he can do whatever he wants with it.” My chest tightens, and for a moment, the room seems to tilt.

“The hell is this?” I snap, my voice sharp. “I killed him!”

Matteo shifts uncomfortably. “Apparently not. They’ve managed to regroup faster than expected. We traced the message—it was sent to Viviana.”

Her name sends a fresh wave of fury through me. I slam the phone down on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. “Where is she?” I growl.

“We’ve located her,” Matteo says carefully. “She’s staying with a friend. Some artist.”

Rage boils in my chest. She left me, walked out, thinking she could escape. And now, she’s painted a target on herself and our child.

“Get the car ready,” I bark. “We’re leaving now.”

We waste no time.

The drive to the seaside town feels agonizingly slow, even though Matteo assures me we’re moving as quickly as possible. My mind is a storm of emotions—anger, fear, guilt—all colliding in a chaotic whirl. How could she keep this from me? How could she think she could handle this alone?

When we arrive, I barely wait for the car to stop before I’m out, striding toward the small house where she’s hiding. Francesca opens the door, her face pale and confused, but I don’t give her a chance to speak.

“Where is she?” I demand.

“She’s—” Francesca stammers, but I push past her, my focus solely on finding Viviana.

I find her in the living room, standing by the window with her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach. She freezes when she sees me, her face a mix of shock and defiance.

“What the hell were you thinking?” I roar, closing the distance between us. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Her eyes narrow, and she lifts her chin defiantly. “What I’ve done? I left to protect myself. To protect our child, Romeo. Something you clearly don’t know how to do.”

Her words hit like a slap, but my anger only flares hotter. “You think running off to a friend’s house, hiding like a scared rabbit, is protecting yourself? They know where you are, Viviana. They sent you a message—a threat. And now, they’re coming for you.”

She pales slightly at my words, but her defiance doesn’t waver. “Maybe if you hadn’t dragged me into this world, none of this would be happening.”

“You think I wanted this for you?” I snap, stepping closer. “You think I wanted to bring you into a war? I’ve done everything—everything—to keep you safe.”

“You let my father die,” she spits, her voice trembling with anger. “That’s your idea of keeping me safe?”

Her words strike a nerve, and I clench my fists, the guilt I’ve been trying to suppress bubbling to the surface. “Your father made his choices,” I say, my voice quieter but no less intense. “I made mine to protect you. If I could go back and change it—”

“Then why didn’t you?” she interrupts, tears brimming in her eyes. “Why didn’t you save him, Romeo?”

“I was afraid of losing you!” I shout, the words ripping from me before I can stop them. “I couldn’t risk you, Viviana. Not you. Not the baby.”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, the room falls silent. I take a step back, running a hand through my hair, my chest heaving as I try to regain control.

“Do you think I don’t regret it?” I say, my voice quieter now, raw. “Every damn day, I think about what I could’ve done differently. I can’t change the past. All I can do is protect what I have left. You. The baby.”

She stares at me, her expression softening just slightly, but the anger and hurt are still there. “Romeo,” she says softly, her voice trembling, “I can’t live like this. I can’t live in constant fear, wondering if the next time you protect me, it’ll cost someone else I love their life.”

Her words hit harder than any bullet. I step closer, my voice low and desperate. “I’ll fix this, Viviana. I swear to you, I’ll end it all. The threats, the violence—everything. You and the baby will never have to live in fear again.”

She shakes her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. “You don’t understand. It’s not just about the violence, Romeo. It’s about you. You don’t let anyone in. You don’t trust anyone. I can’t raise our child with someone who sees control as love.”

Her words gut me, and for a moment, I can’t speak. I take another step closer, my hand brushing against her cheek. She doesn’t pull away, but the sadness in her eyes is like a knife to my chest.

“I’m trying,” I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never had anyone to protect before. Never had anyone I couldn’t lose. But I’m trying, Viviana. For you. For our child.”

Her eyes search mine, and for a moment, I think she might forgive me. Then she steps back, her hand resting on her stomach.

“This isn’t just about you anymore,” she says softly. “It never was.”

The words are like a knife to the gut, but before I can respond, Matteo steps into the room. “Romeo,” he says urgently, “we need to go. Now.”

I turn to him, my jaw tightening. “What is it?”

“They’re closing in,” Matteo says. “We need to move her. Immediately.”

I look back at Viviana, my heart pounding. Her face is pale, her eyes wide with fear. “We’ll talk about this later,” I say firmly, grabbing her hand. “Right now, you’re coming with me.”

For once, she doesn’t argue. The tension between us is palpable as I lead her out of the house, the weight of her words lingering like a ghost.

The car ride back to the what’s left of the estate is heavy with tension, but it’s a different kind of tension than before. Viviana sits beside me, her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach. She’s quiet, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery, but her presence feels less distant than it did an hour ago.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye, the memory of her words echoing in my mind. This isn’t just about you anymore. She was right, and I hate how much it stings to hear it.

When we arrive, the guards fall into place immediately, their presence an ever-present reminder of the danger that still lingers. I open the car door for her, and she hesitates before stepping out. I hold out a hand, and to my surprise, she takes it.

Inside, the estate feels quieter than usual, only one small wing of the building still intact. The shadows are stretching long in the fading light. I lead her to the sitting room, gesturing for her to sit while Matteo moves to debrief the security team. Once we’re alone, I sit across from her, my hands resting on my knees as I watch her carefully.

She takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting mine. “Romeo,” she says softly, her voice steady but tinged with emotion, “About Dad…”

Her words catch me off guard. I blink, my chest tightening as I process them. “You know we had to leave him,” I say, my voice rough. “He made his choices.”

“I know,” she says, her gaze dropping to her lap. “That doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard. He fucked up, but he didn’t deserve to die.”

I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly. “It’s in the past now.”

“Maybe,” she says quickly. “He was still…my father. I know that no matter what he did, his death weighs on me, too.”

Her words slice through the wall I’ve built around my emotions, and I feel the weight of it all pressing down on me—the choices, the losses, the chaos I’ve dragged her into. She doesn’t stop, her voice soft but insistent.

“We can’t change what’s happened,” she says, “but we can start fresh. We have a child to think about now, Romeo. That has to come first.”

Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at her. She’s right again, damn her. She’s always right. I let out a sharp breath, leaning forward, my elbows resting on my knees.

“You’ve given me something I never thought I could have,” I say, my voice low and unsteady. “A family. I didn’t know what that meant until you, Viviana. I’ll be damned if I let anything take that away from me.”

She blinks, her lips parting slightly, and I reach across the space between us, taking her hand. “I will protect you,” I vow, my grip firm but gentle, “ and our child. Whatever it takes, whoever I have to fight—I’ll do it. I need you to stay with me. We can face our enemies together.”

Her gaze searches mine, and for a long moment, she’s silent. I can see the conflict in her eyes, the war between trust and fear. Finally, she nods, her grip on my hand tightening slightly.

“I’m already back. It’s not like I have a choice,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “But I want to stay on my terms, Romeo.”

I frown, tilting my head slightly. “Your terms?”

She nods again, her chin lifting in that defiant way I’ve come to both hate and admire. “I won’t be a passive participant in your world. If I’m going to be a part of this, then I need to know what’s happening. I need to be involved.”

“Viviana, this isn’t—” I start, but she cuts me off.

“I’m serious,” she says, her voice rising slightly. “I’m not asking to run your operations or take over your empire, but I refuse to be kept in the dark. If you want me by your side, Romeo, then you need to trust me with everything.”

Her words strike a nerve, and I tighten my jaw, my hand still holding hers.

Trust. It’s a luxury I’ve never had in my world, a weakness that can get a man killed. But looking at her now, I know she’s right. If I want to keep her, if I want to protect what we have, then I have to give her what she’s asking for.

“Fine,” I say finally, my voice quiet but resolute. “We’ll do it your way. You’ll follow my lead, Viviana. You’ll listen to me, and you’ll stay safe.”

She exhales slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “That’s all I ask.”

It’s not a perfect resolution, but it’s enough for now. I lean forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and for the first time in days, I feel a flicker of hope.

This isn’t over—not by a long shot.