Page 34

MARIA

F or seven days, the world outside doesn’t exist. Matteo and I vanish into the quiet luxury of the penthouse, wrapped in stolen mornings, hungry touches, and the illusion that time might bend for us.

But illusions never last. And I know, deep down, he’ll have to go back to the world that waits for him.

“Stop that.” I bump my shoulder against his arm. “How can you call yourself a New Yorker when you haven’t even tried Starbucks?”

I laugh at his contorted face. He stares at the vanilla latte I ordered for him in disgust. The chill of the air tints his cheeks pink, and he looks like he is seconds from having a coronary.

He shakes his head. “Whatever this is, it’s a crime against real coffee.”

“It is delicious,” I laugh and smile. “You have no taste for the finer things in life.”

“Of course I have a taste for the finer things, Maria.” He tosses the coffee in the trash without hesitation. “Tailored suits. Italian engines. A woman who can out-stare a storm. But that ”—he nods to the cup—“that’s an insult to caffeine.”

The wind blows moving through my hair and momentarily covering my face. I pause and try to get the hair out of my face while trying to balance the coffee in my hands.

“Here, let me.” He moves the hair from my eyes. He cups my face and then presses his lips to mine, and I taste the vanilla on his lips. My body melts into his instinctively and I feel my feet rise above the clouds. He pulls away far too quickly from my lips and I whimper.

“Careful,” he whispers against my lips. You’ll get addicted.”

I bite down on my lip and look up at him through my lashes. “I could spend a thousand lifetimes with you and still not get enough. I thought you would know this by now.”

His gaze darkens with emotion. “Then one lifetime will never be enough—for either of us. I wish I didn’t have to leave you today.”

“And why must you burst my bubble?” I pout my lips and continue down the pavement. “I was happy, and now you remind me of the disappointment that waits for me when we get back home.”

Home. The penthouse still didn’t feel like home on its own. He needs to be in it for me to feel like it is. He is my home—my haven.

“Come now, amore. You know I need to work, and besides, there is still your perpetrator on the loose, and I need to figure out who it is.” He grabs my hand and interlaces our fingers. “I need to make this city safe for you again.”

I breathe a heavy sigh, and my breath mists in the fall air. “I know. But I got used to you being around. You were a nice distraction from everything.”

And by everything, I mean all the questions I have about what Daniele said to me. I still haven’t forgotten, and I am scared to bring it up with Matteo. I don’t want it to turn into an argument, but I know that eventually, I will have to.

But today is not that day.

“Why did you choose to live in the city? I know you have the Davacalli estate out north, and you loved it there from what I remember.” It is a question that I have been curious about for quite some time now.

Something flickers behind his eyes—just for a second. A shadow. A memory. He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, I think I’ve overstepped. But then he breathes out slowly, gaze fixed on something far away.

“When Beatrice died…” he starts, his voice quieter than before, almost hesitant.

“The estate didn’t feel like home anymore.

It became… a mausoleum. Every hallway echoed her laughter.

Every corner whispered her absence. I’d sit on the porch and expect her to walk out, barefoot, smiling—and when she didn’t… it felt like the walls closed in.”

He swallows, and I catch the flicker of pain in his eyes, raw and unguarded.

“Grief… It’s a strange thing. It doesn’t scream. It seeps. It took everything I loved about that house and made it feel like a punishment. I couldn’t breathe there. I was a ghost among memories, and it was killing me slowly.”

I rest my forehead against his shoulder, keeping our hands connected, but he’s still staring ahead, like he’s looking back in time.

“Daniele was grown, off doing his own thing. I told myself it was practical, leaving. That the house was too big, too empty. But the truth?” He pauses, turning to me, eyes full of something so painfully human.

“I ran. I ran from the silence. I ran from the guilt of surviving her. And I didn’t stop running… until you.”

I squeeze his hand, letting him know that I am here for him. The man has more demons plaguing him than I care to admit. He has seen many dark things and survived the worst of what the world has to offer. I know it’s not easy for him to let me in like this. I don’t take it for granted.

“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too much,” I say gently. Sometimes I forget—he’s still carrying that grief, a wound that never truly healed, just learned to stay quiet.

He shakes his head. “You deserve to know.”

“You know I’m not trying to replace her, right?”

He looks over at me, a soft smile touching his lips. “I know. And no one ever could. I’d never compare you to her—never pit you against her. You’re two very different women… but somehow, you share the same kind of fire.”

I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”

His smile deepens, laced with memory. “It’s in your warmth. That quiet strength that doesn’t need to shout to be felt. You both love with your whole hearts, but when you’re angry—when you’re pushed—you burn with a fury that can level anything in your path. It’s beautiful… and terrifying.”

A soft laugh escapes me. “And how are we different?”

He pauses, the smile fading into something quieter. “With you, it’s… different. There’s this pull—like a thread that’s always been there. I felt it the moment I saw you at Antonio’s funeral. I shouldn’t have looked at you the way I did, but I couldn’t help it. It was like… gravity.”

My heart stutters. “Like we were meant to collide.”

He nods. “Beatrice opened my heart. She changed the way I saw the world. She gave me my son. But you—” he takes my hand, gaze burning into mine, “—you feel like everything was leading to this. To you. With you, it feels like… destiny came full circle.”

I blink, breath caught in my throat. “So what you’re telling me is… I’m your destiny?”

His lips lift. “The inevitable kind.”

I mean to say it as a joke, but my husband suddenly pulls us to a stop and turns to face me. His eyes—molten autumn and full of fire—hold a gravity that roots me in place. There’s something in his gaze I can’t quite decipher, something that makes the air between us feel too heavy, too still.

My stomach lurches. The teasing tone vanishes from my throat.

The intensity of his stare has my heart pounding like war drums in my chest. Every instinct tells me to brace myself—for what, I don’t know.

Then his voice drops, low and certain.

“Sei l’inizio della mia fine, amore mio. E quando questo mondo finirà, farò in modo di trovarti nel prossimo.”

You are the beginning of my end, my love. And when this world ends, I will make sure to find you in the next.

“Matteo…” I can’t find the words to say it. So, instead, I lift onto my toes and press my lips to his. I pour all that I have into that kiss and hope that he feels it within him.

He is the beginning of my end and all the things in between. I am falling in love with him, and I am helpless to catch myself. I don’t know what the future holds for us with all this chaos that surrounds us, but I know that as long as his hand stays in mine, we will make it out alive.

After a short walk around the park, his meeting time arrives, and we head back to the penthouse.

“Come, my love.” He opens the door for me. “You will be fine while I’m gone.”

I walk in, but before I can respond, a familiar voice calls out?—

“Surprise.”

Ginny steps forward with a wide smile, her arms already open. There’s a sparkle in her eyes, but she’s more graceful than frantic.

“I’ve missed you,” she says as she pulls me into a warm hug. “You have no idea how good it is to see you in one piece.”

I hug her back, my chest tightening with affection.

“I talked to you on the phone last night. What are you doing here? I thought you and Dario would be in Washington.”

She pulls away and smiles. “That was all a lie. We were coming here to New York to see you. Dario has business with your husband, and I thought, why not drop by? Hello, Matteo.”

“Ginny, lovely to see you.” Matteo gives her a polite greeting. “Amore, I am leaving. Stay in the house, please, and if you must leave, make sure you go with Tony and text me.”

Before I can answer, he smacks a hot kiss on my lips and then pulls away. He pecks me one last time before saying goodbye.

“Take care of my wife for me, Ginny,” he says. “Emily should be back now, amore mio. Should you want anything, she will help you. And remember…”

“…stay alive.” I roll my eyes at his overprotective stance, but truthfully, I find it all endearing. I love the fact that he watches over me with so much precaution. “Have a good day at work.”

Matteo walks out the door, leaving me with my friend. I watch the door for a moment like a little lovesick puppy.

Ginny steps up beside me, her eyes dancing with amusement. “You’ve got that look.”

I glance at her, wary. “What look?”

“The one that says, ‘I’ve been thoroughly ruined by my husband.’” She smirks. “Was it everything you imagined… and then some?”

“Ginny,” I gasp, heat rushing to my cheeks.

A pause settles between us. She raises her brows expectantly.

I bite back a smile, unable to help the flush that spreads across my face. “Yes. It was…” I exhale, dreamy. “It was incredible.”

Her grin widens. “That’s my girl.”

Emily comes out from the kitchen with a tray in hand. She offers me a small smile when she sees me. There’s something hollow in Emily’s eyes lately. Like she’s smiling with her mouth, but her soul hasn’t caught up. It’s subtle—so subtle I almost convince myself I imagined it.

Still, I can’t shake the odd flicker in her gaze as she sets the tray down.