Page 84 of The Mafia's Septuplets
“You’re awake.” His voice carries sleep-roughened warmth as he notices my absence from bed. “Everything okay?”
I turn to face him with the phone still in my hand, studying his expression while pieces of a larger puzzle begin falling into place. “I just listened to your voicemail from yesterday… The first time you ever said you loved me, not last night… The one about proving your love in the worst possible way…?”
His face goes blank, but I catch the flash of guilt that confirms my suspicions about what he was planning before Mikhail’s kidnapping changed everything. “What were you going to do?” I keep my voice calm despite the tension building in my chest. “What would have proven your love in a way I’d hate?”
He sits up in bed, clearly debating how much truth to share as I wait for honesty I’m not sure I want to hear. “Plan L, for Last Resort.” The admission emerges with reluctant honesty. “I wasgoing to move you to a secure facility in the mountains while I handled the Mikhail situation. You would have thought it was a spa weekend until you realized you couldn’t leave. I was going to trick Harper into going with you and keep her captive too, so you’d have company.”
The revelation hits me harder than expected, even though I suspected something like this after piecing together fragments from recent conversations. He was planning to kidnap me, and my BFF, for my own protection while lying about the nature of the arrangement. “You were going to betray my trust to keep me safe.” The words emerge flat and emotionless as I process the implications. “You were making decisions about my life without consulting me.”
“Yes.” He doesn’t try to defend or minimize what he’d planned. “I was going to prioritize your survival over your autonomy, and I was willing to do that even if it meant ultimately risking losing you.”
Part of me wants to be furious about his paternalistic assumptions and willingness to deceive me for what he considered my own good. However, another part recognizes that spending yesterday in Mikhail’s basement was infinitely worse than being confined to a luxury mountain retreat with medical staff and security. “I would have been safe.” The admission emerges grudgingly. “Angry and feeling betrayed, but safe.”
“I know it was wrong.” He moves to sit beside me on the window seat, close enough to touch but respecting the distance my posture creates. “I know it violated everything you’ve asked for about partnership and respect.”
“Yet you were planning to do it anyway.”
“I was terrified of losing you and our children to an enemy I should have eliminated months ago.” His voice carries pain that goes beyond simple regret. “I would rather have you hate me than attend your funeral.”
The honesty cuts through my anger like a knife through butter, revealing the fear that drove him toward deception and control. After experiencing Mikhail’s basement and understanding the level of threat we faced, I can’t entirely condemn the protective instincts that made him consider such extreme measures.
“Promise me something.” I reach for his hand while meeting his gaze. “Promise me we’ll be equal partners in every decision from this point forward. No more protective deceptions, no more choosing my safety over my agency, and no kidnapping others, like Harper, to make sure I have entertainment.” There’s a hint of amusement when I end with that. “She would have killed you.”
“I promise.” The vow emerges without hesitation or qualification. “Complete honesty, shared decisions, and true partnership in everything that affects our family.” His lips curve tentatively. “I also won’t try to kidnap your best friend and risk her putting out a hit on me.”
The immediate agreement reassures me he understands why this matters, and yesterday’s violence taught him lessons about trust and communication that go beyond simpler considerations. “She’d never do that.” I wait a moment before saying, “She’d just do it herself.”
He laughs, clearly not as intimidated by Harper as he should be, but he’ll figure that out over the next fifty years or so. After a moment, he asks, “Are you still going to marry me after learningwhat I was willing to do to protect you?” His question carries vulnerability that makes my chest ache with a surge of affection.
“Of course.” I lean forward to kiss him softly. “Especially knowing you can admit when you’re wrong and commit to doing better.”
I frame his face with my hands, studying features that will become familiar over decades of shared life and love. We’ve survived violence and betrayal and learned to choose trust over fear. We’ve earned the right to happiness through survival and sacrifice. The rest of our lives stretches ahead like unwritten pages waiting for the story we’ll create together.