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Chapter Thirty-Five

Viviana

The machine yard is eerily quiet, the sharp sting of gunpowder still lingering in the air. My chest heaves as I cling to Romeo, his kiss still fresh on my lips, his words echoing in my mind.

You’re mine. His intensity should terrify me, but instead, it grounds me, pulling me back from the edge of fear. For a brief moment, I feel safe, untouchable in his arms.

Then the silence shatters.

A gunshot rings out, sharp and unexpected, and my body stiffens instinctively. Romeo curses, but he reacts instantly, shoving me behind him as the bullet ricochets off a metal crate nearby. My heart leaps into my throat as my eyes dart around, searching for the source.

Then I see him—Salvatore.

He’s stumbling out from behind a stack of crates, bloodied but alive, a pistol clutched in his shaking hand. His face is twisted with rage and desperation, and he raises the weapon again, his gaze locked on Romeo.

“You’re hurt,” I cry out, noticing Romeo gripping his arm.

“It’s nothing,” he says with a wince.

Before I can process what’s happening, Romeo explodes into motion. A guttural growl tears from his throat as he storms toward Salvatore, his steps purposeful and deadly.

“Romeo, what—” I shout, but he doesn’t stop. His focus is singular, his fury written across his face.

Salvatore fires again, but the shot goes wide, missing both of us. Romeo closes the distance in a blur, knocking the gun from Salvatore’s hand with a brutal swipe. The weapon clatters to the ground, and before Salvatore can react, Romeo’s fist slams into his face.

The sound is sickening, the crack of bone echoing through the air. Salvatore stumbles back, blood spurting from his nose, but Romeo doesn’t let up. He grabs Salvatore by the collar, slamming him against a metal crate with enough force to dent it.

“How are you here?” Romeo snarls, his voice low and dangerous. “I killed you!”

Salvatore sputters, his words garbled by the blood pouring from his mouth. Romeo’s fist connects again, this time with his stomach, and Salvatore doubles over, gasping for air.

“Romeo, stop!” I cry, my voice trembling. “It’s over!”

He doesn’t hear me. His rage is consuming, an unstoppable force. He throws Salvatore to the ground and straddles him, his fists raining down in a brutal, relentless assault. Blood splatters across the ground, the crimson stark against the cold concrete.

“Romeo!” I shout again, rushing forward and grabbing his arm as he raises his fist for another blow. “Stop! Please!”

He freezes at my touch, his chest heaving as he looks up at me. His eyes are wild, dark with fury, but as they meet mine, something shifts. The rage softens, replaced by a flicker of something deeper—fear. Fear for me.

“He’s done,” I whisper, my hand tightening on his arm. “You’ve won.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, his body taut with tension. Then, slowly, he releases Salvatore, standing and pulling me close. His arms wrap around me tightly, almost crushing, as if he’s afraid to let go.

“I almost lost you,” he murmurs against my hair, his voice raw. “I can’t…I won’t let that happen.”

“You didn’t lose me,” I whisper back, my own arms circling him. “I’m right here.”

Matteo’s voice cuts through the heavy silence, bringing us back to the present. “Romeo, we need to go. Now.”

I turn to see him standing a few feet away, his gun lowered but still in hand. He glances at Salvatore’s crumpled body, then back at us. “I’ll have the men clean this up. We can’t stay here.”

Romeo nods, his grip on me loosening slightly, though he doesn’t let go completely. “Get it done,” he says curtly.

Matteo gestures for the remaining men to start clearing the area, and Romeo leads me toward the car, his hand firm on the small of my back. His touch is protective, possessive, and it sends a shiver down my spine—not of fear, but of something darker, something intoxicating.

The car ride back to the estate is silent, the tension thick between us.

Romeo sits beside me, his hand resting on my thigh, his touch grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected. I glance at him, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. There’s blood on his hands, on his shirt, but it doesn’t repulse me. If anything, it reminds me of the lengths he’ll go to for me—for us.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say softly, breaking the silence.

He turns to me, his gaze sharp. “Yes, I did.”

“You could’ve just—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice firm. “He was a threat to you, Viviana. To our child. And I’ll eliminate anyone who dares to harm you.”

His words shouldn’t comfort me, but they do. There’s a brutal honesty in them, a raw determination that makes my chest tighten. I nod, my hand resting over his on my thigh. “Thank you,” I whisper.

He looks at me, his expression softening. “You don’t need to thank me. Protecting you is my job. My purpose.”

The rest of the drive back to the estate is a blur. I try to keep my thoughts steady, but the tension in the car is suffocating. Romeo’s hand remains firm on my thigh, grounding me with every bump and turn, yet it also stirs something inside me I can’t ignore.

My fear from the fight lingers, but so does my desire—an uncontrollable heat that I can’t suppress. The raw, protective way Romeo had thrown himself into the fight for me, for our baby, has left me shaken and aroused all at once.

I don’t fully understand it, but I don’t need to. I just know that every glance at his blood-streaked hands, every brush of his thumb against my leg, only intensifies the pull I feel toward him.

The moment we step into the estate’s grand foyer, the tension boils over. Romeo barely closes the door before I reach for him, gripping his shirt and pulling him down into a kiss. It’s rough, needy, and full of everything I can’t say.

He doesn’t hesitate, his hands immediately finding my waist, his grip firm and possessive.

“Viviana,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough and unsteady. “What are you doing?”

I pull back just enough to look him in the eyes, my chest heaving. “What I want,” I whisper. “What I need.”

His gaze darkens, the intensity of his desire sending a shiver down my spine. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I like the burn,” I reply, daring him.

He growls low in his throat, his hands tightening on my waist as he pulls me closer. Instead of kissing me again, he looks at me, his expression softening in a way that steals my breath.

“I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you,” he says, his voice raw with emotion. “Even when I told myself I couldn’t. Even when I tried to push you away.”

His confession hits me like a tidal wave, and I feel tears prick my eyes. “Romeo,” I whisper, my voice trembling.

“I fought it,” he continues, his hands sliding up to cup my face. “I told myself you were just a means to an end. That I could control what I felt. I couldn’t. I can’t. You’re everything to me, Viviana. You always have been.”

My heart feels like it might burst, the weight of his words overwhelming. “I love you too,” I admit, my voice breaking. “Even when I shouldn’t. Even when you infuriate me, when you scare me. I love you, Romeo. All of you.”

The vulnerability in my voice seems to undo him. He pulls me into another kiss, this one slower but no less intense, his lips moving against mine like he’s claiming me all over again.

“Clean all this up,” he tells Matteo as he leads me to one of the SUVs nearby.

The drive back to the estate is quiet, the space between us filled with the promise of a connection that can no longer be denied.

He pulls into the drive and slams the car to a stop.

Somehow, we make it to the bedroom, though I can’t remember the steps that got us there.

My back hits the door as Romeo presses me against it, his hands roaming my body with a desperation that matches my own. I tug at his shirt, yanking it over his head and tossing it aside, my hands running over the hard planes of his chest.

“Let me,” I say breathlessly, pushing against his chest until he relents, stepping back just enough for me to guide him to the bed. He sits on the edge, his dark eyes watching me with a mixture of curiosity and hunger as I climb onto his lap, straddling him.

“You’re taking charge now?” he teases, his hands settling on my hips. It’s supposed to sound casual, but I can feel the twitch of his cock against my thighs, the first delicious taste I’ve had in forever.

“Someone has to,” I reply, a smirk tugging at my lips as I lean in to kiss him. My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging lightly as I deepen the kiss, savoring the way he groans against my mouth.

For a moment, I feel in control, the power shifting in a way that sends a thrill through me.

Then Romeo’s hands tighten on my hips, and before I can react, he flips us over, pinning me beneath him on the bed.

“You were saying?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear as he speaks.

I glare up at him, though the effect is ruined by the way my body arches beneath his.

He kisses me roughly, his weight pressing me into the mattress as his hands roam my body with a confidence that leaves me breathless.

His fingers trail down my sides, slipping under the hem of my shirt to brush against my bare skin. He rubs a thumb over my nipple and I shiver at his touch, my hands clutching his shoulders as his lips move to my neck.

“Romeo,” I gasp, my voice a mixture of need and frustration.

“What do you need, cara mia?” he murmurs, his lips grazing my collarbone.

“You,” I admit, my voice trembling. “Always you.”

His gaze meets mine, and the intensity in his eyes takes my breath away. “You have me,” he says simply, his voice soft but firm.

Romeo's hands move with an unrelenting hunger, his grip firm but not cruel, leaving my skin tingling where his fingers press into my hips. The weight of him above me is both grounding and electrifying, a reminder that despite everything—the chaos, the danger—this is where I want to be. Where I’ve chosen to be.

When he pushes inside of me, I’m already soaked. I arch my back as his cock fills me, a gasp already on my lips. I’ve missed this, missed him, and I’m drowning in arousal as he begins to thrust.

“You’re mine, Viviana,” he murmurs between thrusts, his voice rough, laced with possession. “Every inch of you.”

I shiver beneath him, my hands tangling in his hair as his kisses become more insistent, his teeth nipping at my skin. The sting of pleasure that is also pain leaves me reeling as I struggle to match his pace, and I’m left moaning in need.

He’s relentless, his cock throbbing inside of me. I couldn’t wish for anything else.

“Romeo,” I whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of need and nervous anticipation.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, his tone softer now, but the intensity in his gaze remains. His hands roam over my bare skin, calloused palms skimming across my sides and up to my ribcage.

He grabs one of my breasts, squeezes in time with each cant of his hips. The sensation sends sparks shooting through me, my body arching toward him.

He dips his head again, his lips pressing against the swell of my other breast. I know his teeth will leave marks, and there will be bruises in the places where his fingers are enjoying contact with my skin.

It should bother me, the way he handles me with such force, but instead, it fuels the fire burning low in my stomach. I crave the way he touches me, how he makes me feel wanted and worshiped all at once.

“You like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and dark as his lips trail down my stomach. His eyes flick up to meet mine, a small smirk playing at his lips when he sees the flush spreading across my chest. “Don’t you?”

I nod, unable to form words, my breath hitching as his hands continue their exploration. His grip tightens on my thighs, and the pressure leaves marks I know I’ll see tomorrow, but I don’t care. I want them—need them. They’re proof that this isn’t a dream.

“You drive me insane, cara mia,” he growls, his mouth returning to mine with a heated kiss that steals my breath. His hand moves to cradle the curve of my stomach, and for a moment, his movements slow, his touch reverent.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, his voice softer now, laced with concern.

“No,” I whisper, my hands cupping his face. “You’re perfect.”

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, though the fire in his eyes doesn’t dim. He lowers himself again, his mouth trailing kisses down my stomach before returning to my lips. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his voice husky.

I nod, but words escape me as his hands work their way back up my body, pulling me closer, deeper into his orbit. He moves with a confidence that leaves me breathless.

He quickens his pace. Perhaps he senses how close I am to the edge, or maybe it’s the way I cry out his name that does it. He works me into a frenzy and suddenly I’m overcome.

The orgasm hits me, my pussy clenching around his thick cock as I scream. I’m consumed by it, eyes scrunched shut as I ride out the wave.

Romeo comes too, my name on his lips as he pumps me full. His come fills me, hot and thick, dripping from between our joined thighs as I writhe beneath him.

When it’s over, we lie tangled together on the bed, the sheets a mess around us. Romeo’s hand rests protectively over my stomach, his thumb drawing lazy circles against my skin. His face is pressed against my hair, his breath warm on my temple.

The room is quiet except for the sound of our breathing, but the weight of what just happened lingers in the air. I feel raw, exposed, but not in a way that makes me want to run.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel…safe.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Romeo murmurs, his voice breaking the silence.

I turn my head to look at him, my fingers brushing lightly over the stubble on his jaw. “Which part?” I ask softly.

“That you’ve changed me,” he says, his eyes locking onto mine. “That I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you and our child safe.”

Something in his tone makes my chest tighten. It’s not just a promise; it’s a vow, one I know he’ll keep no matter the cost.

“Romeo,” I whisper, my voice trembling, “what are you saying?”

He exhales slowly, his hand moving to cup my face. “I’m saying I’m done, Viviana. With all of it. The violence, the bloodshed, the constant war. I’ll leave it behind—all of it—for you. For us.”

The weight of his words is staggering, and I blink at him, struggling to process what he’s saying. “You’d leave the Mafia?”

“I would,” he says firmly, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “It won’t be easy, but I’ll find a way. You and the baby—you’re my future. Not this life.”

Tears well up in my eyes, and I press my forehead against his, my hands gripping his shoulders. “I don’t want to lose you,” I whisper. “I can’t raise our child in that world, Romeo. I just…I can’t.”

“You won’t have to,” he says, his voice resolute. “I’ll make sure of it.”

For a moment, we lie there in silence, the weight of his promise settling between us. It feels like a turning point, a shift in the tide that’s carried us so far from where we started.