Page 102 of The Bonventi War

I look at him, surprised by his sentiment. He shrugs, almost embarrassed.

"My mother used to say the dead never really leave us. They watch over us, protect us." His expression shifts slightly. "I like to think she's the reason that bullet didn't kill Marco or that I was able to find you when…" he trails off.

"Yeah," I say and lean my head against his shoulder, overwhelmed by everything—gratitude for this man, grief for my mother, joy for our growing family, anxiety about our future.

"Thank you," I say simply. "For understanding. For this." I gesture to the well-maintained grave.

Gio kisses the top of my head. "Anything for you, baby. You're mine to protect and cherish, remember? That includes the things and people you love."

I smile through my tears. "I thought it was 'mine to possess and control.'"

"That too," he says with a grin. "But I'm learning to be flexible."

I laugh despite myself. Giovanni Bonventi, flexible. The world truly has turned upside down.

"We should go," Gio says, checking his watch. "The plane won't wait, not even for me."

I nod, touching the gravestone one last time. "Goodbye, Mom. I'll tell you all about Italy when we get back."

Standing up, I feel Gio's arm slide around my waist, pulling me against him. For a moment, we stand together, looking down at my mother's final resting place.

"Mrs. Carvello," Gio says formally, "I swear to you I'll protect your daughter and grandchildren with my life. You have my word."

His sincerity brings fresh tears to my eyes. This is the man I'm marrying—dangerous, possessive, and capable of surprising tenderness.

As we turn to leave, I cast one final glance over my shoulder. The sunlight catches on the marble just right, making it glow.

"She approves," I say quietly. "I can feel it."

Gio's arm tightens around me. "Well then, let's go get married, Raven."