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Chapter Thirty-Three

Viviana

The countryside estate feels like a different world despite the bombing.

The air is fresh, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and earth, and the rolling hills stretch out like a quiet promise of peace. It’s so unlike the city, where danger hides around every corner, and Romeo’s empire casts a shadow over everything.

Even here, though, I can’t escape the weight pressing down on me.

The knowledge of what I left behind—and what I’m stepping back into—lingers like a storm on the horizon.

I stand at the window of the bedroom Romeo insisted I take, looking out at the sprawling garden below. It’s beautiful, tranquil, but it doesn’t feel real. Not when I know what’s still out there.

The day before, I wandered into the part of the house that was damaged by the bomb. It felt like stepping off of the earth’s surface and going for a walk on the moon.

The only thing that’s constant in my life these days is disaster. I have no compass for this life, but I’m going to have to figure out how to create one.

A soft knock at the door startles me. I glance over my shoulder as Romeo steps inside, his presence filling the room effortlessly. He’s dressed casually for once, his usual tailored suits swapped for a fitted shirt and dark jeans.

Even without the armor of his usual attire, he still carries that air of authority, of control.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

I hesitate, my hand brushing over my stomach instinctively. “Tired,” I admit. “It’s been…a lot.”

He nods, stepping closer but keeping a careful distance. “I know this isn’t easy,” he says. “For either of us. I meant what I said, Viviana. I’ll protect you. Both of you.”

His gaze flickers to my stomach, and for a moment, I see something unguarded in his eyes. It’s not the ruthless, calculating Romeo I’ve come to know. It’s something softer, more vulnerable, and it takes me off guard.

“Protecting me isn’t enough,” I say quietly, turning to face him fully. “I need more than promises, Romeo. I need to know this isn’t the life I’m bringing our child into.”

He exhales slowly, his jaw tightening as he looks away. “I’m working on it,” he says finally. “Salvatore may be gone, but his men are still a threat. Once they’re dealt with, I’ll step away from all of this.”

I blink, startled by his words. “You’d leave the Mafia?”

“For you,” he says simply. “For the baby.”

My heart lurches, and I cross my arms, trying to hold onto my resolve. “It’s not that easy, Romeo. You can’t just walk away from this world. People will come after you. After us.”

“I know,” he says, his voice firm. “That’s why I have to do it right. I’ve already started laying the groundwork—tying up loose ends, shifting power to trusted allies. It’s not going to happen overnight, but it will happen.”

The conviction in his voice sends a shiver through me. I don’t know whether to believe him, whether to trust that he can keep that promise. A part of me—a foolish, hopeful part—wants to.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask softly, my voice trembling.

“You need to know,” he says, stepping closer. “You need to know that I’m not just saying these things to keep you here. I’m saying them because I mean them. You’ve changed me, Viviana. More than I ever thought possible.”

His words leave me breathless, my resolve cracking under the weight of his sincerity. I want to believe him. I want to believe that he can change, that he can leave this life behind. The fear still lingers, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts.

“What if you can’t?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “What if you can’t walk away? What if this world drags you back in?”

He reaches for my hand, his touch warm and steady. “Then I’ll fight,” he says, his voice low and resolute. “I’ll fight for you. For our family. For the life we deserve.”

The word family hangs in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I look into his eyes, searching for any sign of deception, but all I see is honesty. Raw, unfiltered honesty that takes my breath away.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” I admit, my voice trembling.

“I’ll earn it,” he says without hesitation. “Every day, for the rest of my life, if that’s what it takes.”

His words hit me like a tidal wave, and I feel my defenses crumbling. I want to trust him. I want to believe that we can have the life he’s promising. Trusting Romeo means opening myself up to the possibility of heartbreak, of losing everything again.

I squeeze his hands as I turn back to the window. The garden stretches out before me, beautiful and untouched, and I wonder if this is what a fresh start could look like.

“I need to think,” I say finally, my voice quiet but firm. “Time to figure out what I want. What’s best for the baby.”

Romeo doesn’t argue. He simply nods. “Take all the time you need,” he says. “But know this, Viviana—I’m not giving up on us. On this family.”

I don’t respond, my gaze fixed on the horizon as he steps back toward the door. He pauses for a moment, his hand on the frame, before looking back at me.

“I’ll be in my study,” he says. “If you need anything.”

I nod, my throat too tight to speak, and he leaves, the door clicking softly behind him.

As silence settles over the room, I press a hand to my stomach, tears welling in my eyes. I don’t know what the future holds, but for the first time in a long time, I feel a flicker of hope. It’s small and fragile, but it’s there.

The quiet of the room wraps around me like a heavy blanket after Romeo leaves, but the peace is fleeting. My mind races, trying to process his words, his promises. A life together, free from the Mafia’s grip—it feels like a distant dream, almost too fragile to hold onto.

Yet, part of me wants to believe him. Needs to believe him.

I place my hand on my stomach, the gentle flutter beneath my palm grounding me. For the baby’s sake, I have to think about what’s possible, not just what’s safe. Every time I try to envision a future with Romeo, the shadows of his world creep in, threatening to swallow us whole.

The door creaks open softly, breaking my thoughts. Matteo steps inside, his expression a mix of urgency and hesitation. “Viviana,” he says, his tone low but firm. “Romeo wants to see you. He’s in the study.”

I nod, brushing my hands over my dress as I stand. Matteo holds the door for me, and as I follow him down the hall, the weight of the moment settles in. This isn’t just about me anymore. It never was.

Romeo is standing by the large desk in the study, his hands braced on the surface as he studies a map spread before him. His dark hair falls forward slightly, and the tension in his shoulders is unmistakable. Matteo steps aside, nodding toward Romeo as I enter.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask softly, my voice breaking the heavy silence.

Romeo looks up, his gaze softening slightly when it lands on me. “Yes. Come here.”

I approach cautiously, my eyes flicking to the map on the desk. It’s marked with red and black lines, circles, and Xs—strategic points, I assume. Matteo stands off to the side, his arms crossed as he observes silently.

“What’s this?” I ask, nodding toward the map.

“A plan,” Romeo says simply. “Salvatore’s men are regrouping faster than we anticipated. They’re targeting key locations—warehouses, transport routes, safe houses.”

“What are you planning to do about it?” I ask, my tone sharper than I intend.

“Strike first,” Romeo replies, his voice steady. “I won’t give them the chance to come after us again.”

Us. The word lingers between us, unspoken but understood. I cross my arms, meeting his gaze head-on. “I want to be involved.”

Matteo snorts softly, earning a sharp look from Romeo. “No,” Romeo says firmly, his eyes narrowing. “It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m not asking for permission,” I counter, stepping closer. “I’m telling you. If this is going to affect me and the baby, I deserve to know what’s happening. I deserve to be part of the decisions.”

Romeo’s jaw tightens, his frustration clear. “Viviana, this isn’t your fight. It’s mine.”

“Your fight affects me,” I say, my voice rising slightly. “You can’t keep me in the dark, Romeo. Not anymore.”

For a moment, the room is silent, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. Then, to my surprise, Romeo exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair.

“Fine,” he says finally, his voice low. “You listen to me. You stay out of harm’s way, and you follow my lead.”

I nod, satisfied but wary. Matteo glances between us. “If she’s going to be involved,” he says, “she needs to know everything.”

Romeo doesn’t respond, his gaze still locked on mine. There’s something unspoken in his eyes, something that makes my chest tighten. I wonder if he’s as afraid of losing me as I am of losing myself in his world.

As Matteo leaves, the tension between us has softened, replaced by something quieter, more fragile. We sit in the living room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. The map and plans are temporarily set aside, and for a moment, it feels like we’re just two people trying to find a way forward.

Romeo shifts beside me, his arm resting along the back of the couch. He glances at me, then his gaze lowers to my stomach. “Can I…?” he asks, his voice quieter than I’ve ever heard it.

It takes me a moment to realize what he’s asking. I nod, my breath hitching slightly as he places his hand gently on my stomach. His palm is warm, his touch tentative, almost reverent.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then, a faint flutter—soft and subtle—presses against his hand. Romeo’s eyes widen slightly, his lips parting as he looks at me.

“Did you feel that?” he whispers, his voice filled with awe.

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, and I find myself leaning closer, my hand covering his on my stomach. The firelight casts a warm glow over his face, highlighting the vulnerability in his expression.

“You’ve given me something I never thought I’d have,” he says softly, his gaze locked on mine. “A family. A reason to be better.”

My chest tightens at his words, and without thinking, I reach up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “Romeo,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I want to believe you. I want to believe we can have something real.”

“You can,” he says, his voice firm but tender. “I’ll prove it to you.”

The intensity in his gaze is magnetic, pulling me in until our lips meet. The kiss is soft at first, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepens, heat sparking between us. His hand moves to my waist, pulling me closer, and I gasp against his lips as his other hand remains protectively over my stomach.

The desire coursing through me is undeniable, but so is the tenderness. It’s not just lust—it’s something deeper, something that terrifies and exhilarates me in equal measure.

Before the moment can go any further, Matteo’s voice cuts through the quiet. “Romeo,” he says from the doorway, his tone grim. “We have a problem.”

We pull apart, our breaths uneven as we turn toward him. Matteo steps inside, his expression dark. “Salvatore is planning a massive assault. They’re on their way here.”

The room feels colder, the weight of his words settling heavily over us. Romeo’s jaw tightens, his grip on my waist firm but steady. I glance at him, my heart pounding as I see the determination in his eyes.

“It’s time to end this,” he says quietly, his voice laced with resolve.

For the first time, I realize that no matter what happens next, I’m not just going to be standing on the sidelines. I’m in this with him, for better or worse.