Page 56 of Italian Weddings

T WENTY FOUR HOURS LATER, finally back in her own apartment, Emilia figured she deserved some kind of award for her acting abilities.

Leandro had refused to allow her to go home any sooner.

Instead, he’d brought her back to the house he shared with his wife Skye and their daughter Harper, so she’d been subjected to Skye’s loving, well-intentioned fussing, and had been completely unable to contact Salvatore.

Her bag had been left at the function the night before, and while Leandro had said he’d retrieve it, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was intentionally keeping her separate from her device, to stop her from reaching out to Salvatore.

It was obvious that his misgivings were enormous—and not likely to shift any time soon.

So she played along with their caring and compassionate looking after her, downplaying any physical symptoms even when her whole body ached and her wrist in particular was agonizingly sore. But the worst of all was her heart.

She needed to see Salvatore more than she could say.

Finally, back in her own apartment, she waited ten minutes—not convinced her brother wouldn’t have sat downstairs with the car idling to be sure she followed his direction of going ‘straight to bed’, and instead hailed a cab, giving the driver Salvatore’s address a little breathlessly.

The doorman, thankfully, recognized her, and let her straight in and up to his level, so moments later, she was pressing the buzzer for his apartment and then waiting, heart in her throat, with no idea what she could say to him. She knew only that it was right—and important—to be here with him.

Everything with Leandro had been a disaster, but it wasn’t the end. It wasn’t the end, by a long shot. Strangely, that arbitrary date they’d set now seemed ludicrous. The thought of walking away from Salvatore was impossible to contemplate. Not when she felt like this.

If there was any possibility he felt the same, then she had to tell him. She had to grab this with both hands. True, it was an almost impossible situation to navigate, but if they faced it together, she knew they could do it.

But the second the door opened to reveal Salvatore on the other side, his face bruised all over, whatever else Emilia had been about to say flew out of her mind.

“Oh my God,” she cried, rushing forward and lifting her hands to his cheeks, staring at him as tears filled her eyes then ravaged her cheeks.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she repeated. “I can’t believe it.

” Where her brother was sporting a single dark bruise on one cheek, Salvatore looked as though he’d been thumped several times over.

“It all happened so fast, I didn’t see, I didn’t realise. Oh my God,” she cried then, her voice wobbling. “I’m so sorry.”

He stood perfectly still, absorbing her words, just staring down at her, his dark eyes latched to hers, somehow bringing stillness, so after a moment, she shook her head in an attempt to clear the tears. “I’m going to kill him,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Don’t,” Salvatore said, angling his face away a little. “Believe me, if that had been Sofia, I would have done the same thing.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she sobbed. “I know you.” She ran her fingers over his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop saying that. This isn’t your fault.”

“He’s my brother.”

“Yes.” His eyes shifted back to hers. “What are you doing here?”

She bit into her lip, her heart thumping. That was an excellent question. “I think we need to talk.”

His eyes roamed her features and then he nodded once. “Yes.” He stepped back, away from her, so her hands dropped to her side. “Come in.”

There was a formality to his tone she chose not to register. Or perhaps a caution. Either way, her own thoughts and feelings were crowding her mind, making it hard to hear his hesitation.

“I’m so sorry about my brother,” she said, when they were deeper in his apartment, hands ringing in her front. “He had no right?—,”

“I’ve told you, it doesn’t matter. I understand it.”

“There is no excuse for violence.”

“No.”

“And he should know that. He of all people?—,”

“Why?”

She opened her mouth to explain. To tell him about Skye’s ex, who had been abusive and violent and made Skye live in fear. But it was a deeply private part of Skye’s life, and she wasn’t sure if it was her place to share it.

“He just—abhors violence.”

“We can all do things we wouldn’t expect, in certain circumstances.”

“Did you get it checked out?”

“No.”

“Does it hurt?”

He looked at her with an expression that was bordering on mocking, so she rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re too tough to feel pain.”

“It’s uncomfortable to sleep,” he admitted, as if to mollify her. “But I’m pretty sure I’ll live.”

A shudder ran down her spine at the possibility that he might not.

That anything could ever happen to him, to take him away from her.

And in that moment, she knew. She really absolutely knew the truth of her heart.

It was like being struck with lightning, clear and instant, so she stood up straighter and stared at him, her whole body fizzing with warmth at the brand new clarity.

“I love you,” she said, the words almost hurled at him. “Oh my God, Salvatore. I’m in love with you. I knew—I knew I didn’t want this to end, but I didn’t realise—I didn’t know—I’m completely in love with you.”

Salvatore stood perfectly still, except for his eyes, which seemed to twist and turn in an attempt to make sense of her admission. It made her realise how stupid she’d been to ever think she’d loved Jesse. True, she’d been young, but she’d truly believed he’d made his way into her heart.

What a joke.

He’d barely scratched the surface.

Whereas Salvatore’s very essence was deep inside her, writhing, twisting, taking over every cell and organ, becoming more and more a part of her, almost more than she could bear. But what option did she have? She couldn’t walk away from this.

“I love you,” she said again, and this time, there was a huge swelling of relief. That she’d recognised her feelings, and was saying them aloud.

“Emilia—,” his exhalation was a sigh. Definitely less joyous than she was feeling. It was almost enough to put a dampener on her mood, but not quite.

“I know, I know. I know a lot’s happened in the last twenty four hours. I get it. But none of that matters. None of that changes anything?—,”

“It changes everything .” His voice was quiet but his words had the strength of steel. “You must see that.”

“Why?”

He stood as still as a sentinel for what felt like the longest time, but was in fact probably only a minute—or barely a minute—and then, put his hand on the small of her back, guiding her across the lounge room, towards a sofa. “Sit.”

There was a command in his voice and she naturally bristled against it.

Yet his concern was obvious, and when she looked at his beautiful face and saw what her brother had done to it, how could she argue?

How could she argue with the way he was looking at her, like she was made of the most fragile of glass, and wanted to keep her permanently safe?

What was that if not an admission of love?

When she was perched on the edge of the sofa, he crouched at her feet, between her legs, his eyes latched to hers, hands resting on her knees. “We have to end this.”

Not only was it the last thing she expected him to say, it was the last thing she could bear to hear. She shook her head slowly in an instantaneous rejection of that. “Absolutely not.”

“Listen to me.” His voice though, with that quiet, natural authority, rode over the top of hers. “Your brother made it very clear that in choosing me—this—you will lose your family. Do you think there is any way on earth I would allow that to happen?”

“It won’t happen,” she said, firmly.

“You didn’t see him at the hospital.”

She frowned. “He was angry.”

“And he will continue to be angry,” he insisted.

“I get that. It’s not going to be easy, but as he gets to know you, he’ll see?—,”

“He won’t. None of them will. If you don’t end this, and tell your brother it’s over, he is going to make sure you’re pushed out of your family.”

“You don’t know Leo.”

“I know men like him. Hell, I am a man like him. I saw the determination in his eyes, and I understood it. He meant every word he said to me, Emilia.”

He was probably right. But as she looked at the man she loved, she felt a swelling in her chest, as their whole future unfurled inside of her. The future she’d wanted all her life, and hadn’t known she’d ever be blessed enough to receive. “I’m willing to take that risk.”

He pulled back a little, his expression impossible to read, but it was clear those words were filtering through his brain, that he was thinking about them, trying to make sense of them. “I won’t let you.”

“You won’t let me?”

He shook his head once. “This isn’t worth it.”

The words were hard to comprehend at first. She knew they landed with a thud, that she didn’t like them, but it took her a few moments of letting them replay over and over in her mind before she really understood what he was saying.

“You mean we’re not worth it. You mean this isn’t worth fighting for?”

He glanced beyond her. “We both know there’s no future here.”

“Do we?”

“We’ve agreed that all along.”

“Yeah, but?—,”

He pressed his finger to her lips. “There is no ‘but’. Nothing’s changed. Your family is?—,”

“Everything’s changed,” she contradicted ferociously. “Once upon a time you were just Salvatore Santoro. I mean, we obviously had a connection, but I genuinely thought it was just sex, at first.”

His eyes bore through hers with the intensity of his gaze.

“But it’s so much more,” she finished softly, almost in a whisper. “Don’t deny that you feel it, too.”

He was quiet for such a long time that her heart began to splinter in the most painful of ways. She leaned forward, running her fingers over his bruised cheek. “Salvatore?”