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“Has something changed?” I whispered, matching his quiet tone.

“Yeah,” he said, setting a kiss on my forehead. “You’re here with me.”

I looked up at him, the love in my eyes so heavy, my eyes felt as if they might close, the same way they did when he kissed me. “You say the most heartbreaking things to me, Mariano Leone Fausti.”

We stared at each other, allowing the connection to move between us, just as the warmth of the fading sun was, just as the tepid breezes were.

Here, it felt as if the connection was wild and free, taking on the freedom the island seemed to offer.

The most intense times I had felt it was during our vows, and here…

it was just as intense, but also…soft somehow.

A boat was coming in the distance. My husband’s men, along with Dr. Musa. Mariano had persuaded her to come along early. Not only was Fiji a vacation for her, but Mariano also used the situation between Nino and Signor Dandolo to persuade her. Or, perhaps, it was leverage.

Mariano had given Nino an order not to kill Signor Dandolo, and Nino was still fuming.

The guitar smash was not enough. Perhaps the good doctor did not want her husband to burn to a crisp from anger.

He would only bake lightly underneath the Fijian sun.

Another doctor would take care of her patients until she returned.

My own husband might burn to a crisp from his anger, or freeze the Pacific, when I gave him the truth about Iggy breaking into my room at my parents’ place.

I felt better that we were on a private island in the middle of miles and miles of water, but the truth of it sat on my chest, as heavy as a baby elephant.

However, I had to be honest with him. He was never afraid of the truth, which was how the Fausti family motto took its first breath— our word is as good as our blood .

La mia parola è buona come il mio sangue .

I knew the situation was going to be a point of contention for him.

He might decide to leave the island early if I decided to be honest with him while we were honeymooning.

“Sistine.”

His voice called me back to him. I had been lost to my thoughts.

“ Sì. ” I sighed.

He gave me that look. A look I knew meant, Not now, maybe not tomorrow, but soon … whatever this thing is that’s burdening you, I’ll steal it, then crush it with my bare hands.

This was what I was uncertain of.

The crushing.

Even from the short interaction I had with Iggy, one thing stood out to me the most. He seemed as if he would be a hard man to kill.

Perhaps by looks alone, he did not seem like much, but looks were deceiving.

There was something about him that was wily.

As if he had evolved so much, like a fly, that he knew how to avoid death.

I sighed, longer this time.

Over Iggy entering my room, it might be the fact that I had not told my husband right away about the situation that angered him the most.

“Come,” my husband said, keeping us together as we walked away from the shore and toward a path that was lined with solar lights. They were just starting to flicker on. Fireflies dancing in the tropical night.

A beautiful welcome to paradise.

A bright white fire burned behind my closed eyes. I felt as if I was floating in a cool oasis. My naked body was warm, which gave a perfect contrast between the two temperatures.

Then I felt as if an earthquake was shaking me awake.

My eyes popped open, and I instantly narrowed them against the glare sneaking through the blinds. I opened them even further when I realized my husband was hovering over me, his hands on my shoulders, an utterly feral look in his eyes.

“Sistine,” he said, and there was a hint of…panic there.

“What?” I popped up, and he hurriedly moved out of my way.

My head barely missed his.

“What is it?” I turned to him.

His back was to the bed, he was watching as the fan went around and around, one hand over his heart.

“I am not falling for?—”

“You wouldn’t fucking wake up,” he said, breathing a little heavy. “You wouldn’t open your eyes when I told you to.”

I stared at him, but he would not meet my eyes.

I set my hand on his, over his chest, and squeezed.

Underneath his hot skin, his bones trembled.

I squeezed his hand harder, keeping it steady in mine.

“I am sorry, Marito mio ,” I whispered. “I was only tired. All the time apart…the fate day , thinking about the words my sister used as weapons against me all the time.” I sighed, and he looked at me.

“All the traveling. Even before all of that.” I waved my hand, and he caught it, putting it back where it had been.

Over his chest. “The tiredness I am experiencing is extreme. When I sleep, it is like I am—” I stopped myself from saying it felt like I was floating in a cloud.

He would not like that comparison, just as he did not like the angel wings I had worn to my father’s banquet.

He was a bit superstitious when it came to those things.

“Ah, how do you say…when I sleep, it is like I took a potion, and it is the best sleep of my life.”

“It does my heart good to know you sleep well,” he said in Italian. Then he switched to English. “But I don’t fucking like it when you’re too far away from me.”

“I am not,” I whispered, collapsing against his body, setting my head against his chest, my arms wherever they could land on him.

He covered me in his arms. “Fucking feels like it.”

I lifted my head and took his cheeks in my hand, squishing them and his mouth. Though he had no fat. It was all sharp muscles and bones. “I know you do not,” I said, and it sounded almost childish. I smiled at him. “However, I am baking our bambino. This is what it takes.”

“My wife.” He sighed. “The oven.”

“ Sì! ” I laughed. “You are the one who turned it on.” I took a handful of his cock and balls and squeezed.

He made an ung! noise at the cheeky grab, but when I started to stroke him, another noise rumbled through his chest. Pleasure.

He pushed into my touch, pulsing his hips up, and his eyes were already narrowed, but the passion in them would soon be unleashed—on me.

I sucked in a breath, and he went to kiss me, but I turned my mouth.

“I need to brush my teeth!”

He turned my face back and kissed me.

“This is so good,” I mumbled out when I could catch my breath.

He grinned at me. “You still taste like mint.”

“You do too,” I whispered. He did not ever have morning breath. Again. Perfezionare.

His eyes were more peridot, almost neon in the glare of the bright sun.

I heard the wind whistle outside, and a second later, the entire bure (as Mariano had told me it is called in Fiji) turned dark, except for a few spots of sun that seemed to linger.

Shadows made by the palm trees waltzed across the blinds.

“Is that bad weather?” I whispered.

Mariano nodded. “A storm.”

As fast as I went to sit up before, I did so again.

“Bathroom!”

Before I could get out of the bed, Mariano was out of it, and he picked me up, carrying me there. He even sat me down on the toilet. He stood by the door, leaning against the frame, arms crossed, watching me.

“I do not mind now,” I said. “But you know the rules.”

A slow grin came to his face at the mention of my rules. I did not mind him being in the bathroom with me if I had to pee, but anything else…out and in another room. He thought it was hilarious. A moment of silence came when thunder started to rumble.

He looked down at the toilet. “Damn.” He whistled long and low. “Annie’s bringing the boom.”

My cheeks flamed. “That was not me, Mariano Fausti!”

He started laughing so hard, he shook with it. “I have no fucking clue how I made it this long without you, Sistine Fausti.” He sighed. He kissed my temple as I washed my hands. Kissed my face over and over. “You’re a fucking trip.”

“You say that now,” I said, drying my hands on a towel.

His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms again. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Perhaps one day you will find me…not so trip-ish.”

“Yeah, Annie,” he breathed. “No fucking dice.”

I opened the wrong drawer, then remembered where our toothbrushes were and opened that one. I handed him his.

“You remembered,” he said, slathering mine with the paste.

“I was almost comatose after we got here, but I do remember you saying—” I cleared my throat “—dental hygiene is very fucking important.” I tried to do his voice, but it was way…off.

He spit out the water he had just taken in the sink, roaring with laughter. He pulled my hip closer to him, keeping us together as we brushed our teeth together. “No fucking way you won’t be the trip of my life,” he said.

“Mmmhmm…” I grinned, copying his brushing technique. He was extremely serious about dental hygiene, and I knew why. His mamma. Mia had warned me about it during our shopping trip, and she said that, out of all her brothers, Mariano had taken it the most seriously.

Even after all the traveling we did to get to Fiji, he was ready with our toothbrushes before bed.

I was too tired to even move from the bed after we stepped into the bure the night before.

I had waved him off with my hand, which felt as if it had pasta for bones.

“One night will not kill my teeth.” The next thing I knew, I was floating.

Or felt as if I was in his arms. He brought me into the bathroom and set me on the counter.

“Dental hygiene is very fucking important,” he had told me, preparing my toothbrush. He brushed my teeth for me, saying all that I could not do, he was there to do. Even things I could do but were an honor for him as my husband.

“Does this include dressing me for bed?” I had asked, delirious. I knew I was delirious because he had done this for me plenty of times before.

“Clothes,” he had said. “Who needs clothes in paradise.”

After he had made love to me, I could not even remember my name, or where I was. All I craved was sleep.