Page 24

SALVATORE

I t’s been seven days since I brought Rosaria to the villa, and already the walls feel too thin.

Reports flood in through encrypted channels while I pace the corridors, watching her shadow move through rooms she's memorized but refuses to call home.

Gianni's voice crackles through the secure line, delivering news that should concern me more than it does.

"There are phone taps on three of your lieutenants, Boss," he says, his tone clipped.

"Bribes flowing to half the polizia in Florence.

Emilio's asking questions about properties you own, especially anything outside the city.

" I grip the phone tighter, watching through the window as Rosaria moves through the garden below.

Even from this distance, I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she holds herself apart from everything around her. "He's getting too close, Salvatore."

"Let him come," I tell Gianni. "I'm not afraid of him.

What I am guarding is priceless to me. He won't win.

" Gianni grunts into the receiver as I end the call and turn toward the stairs.

The response from Emilio is weak, but perhaps I am underestimating him.

I know he has a force behind him that he's restraining, but I can't let my guard down.

Rosaria is his prize jewel right now, her career on the precipice of turning all of Rome toward him.

With the Rose of Rome in hiding, the theater has had to make other arrangements, regretfully so.

I can't have her out there where my enemies might attack.

She's carrying my child and I haven't decided what to do about that yet.

Bruno meets me at the main entrance, his military bearing evident in every step.

His dark eyes scan the horizon, noting details that would escape lesser men.

"Perimeter's clean," he reports, falling into step beside me as we walk toward my office.

"Motion sensors are active, cameras have clear sight lines.

" He studies my face as he searches for the reason behind my tension. "You expecting trouble tonight?"

"I'm expecting trouble every night until this ends," I reply, checking the camera readout on my phone. All of the feeds show what they're supposed to—my house at peace with my men watching over my prized possession who won’t even speak to me right now. Bringing her here wasn’t supposed to cause division between us.

She was supposed to look at me like her savior, not her abductor.

"Emilio's not the type to wait forever. Double the watch rotation until I say so. "

Bruno nods and moves away to relay the orders, leaving me alone with my thoughts rankled and disturbed.

Rosaria has been avoiding me all week, disappearing from rooms the moment I enter them, taking her meals alone in the library where she thinks I won't disturb her.

The staff treats her like my honored guest, and she's been pleasant with them, but hostile with me.

I find myself in my study, surrounded by maps and financial records that chart the expansion of my territory.

Naples feels distant now, almost abstract compared to the immediate reality of keeping Rosaria safe.

My phone buzzes with updates from the city—shipments arriving on schedule, debts being collected, rivals being reminded of their place.

The business continues without me, but my attention remains divided.

The clock on the mantel chimes midnight when I finally hear movement in the kitchen below.

Footsteps on marble tile, the soft sound of cabinet doors opening and closing.

I descend the stairs slowly, my shoes silent on thick carpet.

The kitchen glows with warm light, creating an island of domesticity in the heart of my fortress.

Rosaria stands at the counter with her back to me, reaching for something on a high shelf. Her hair falls in dark waves down her back, and I can smell the faint scent of her perfume. She knows I'm here before I speak, her body going rigid with awareness.

"You've been hiding from me," I say, stepping into the room.

The overhead lights cast harsh shadows across pristine surfaces but as she turns, the light illuminates her face.

"That's not going to work much longer." She turns slowly, her dark eyes meeting mine with a mixture of defiance and resignation.

There are circles under her eyes, evidence of sleepless nights.

"I needed space," she replies, her voice carefully controlled.

"This house feels smaller every day." She moves away from the counter, putting distance between us.

"Your men watch every door, every window.

I can't even take a walk without an escort.

It's worse than my uncle's home." The words sting.

I want her to feel free here, not like a prisoner, but it's for her own good.

"My men are keeping you alive," I counter, moving closer despite her obvious desire for space.

"Emilio's closing in. He's got people looking for this place, for you.

Every minute you spend unguarded is a minute he could use to take you back.

" The words come out harsher than I intend, but the truth rarely sounds gentle.

Her laugh is bitter, cutting through the kitchen's warmth. "Everything with you is about control, Salvatore. You control where I go, what I do, who I see." She gestures around the kitchen, her movements sharp with frustration. "You're just like him. What do you want to own next? My voice?"

"Your voice was never yours to begin with," I tell her, the words brutal in their honesty.

"Emilio owned it, shaped it, used it to legitimize his empire.

At least I'm honest about what I want." I step closer, close enough to see the pulse beating frantically in her throat.

"You've never been free, Rosaria. The only difference is that I'm not pretending otherwise. "

"And what do you want?" she asks, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Really want, beyond the obvious power plays?" Her eyes search me defiantly and land on my lips then trail up to meet my gaze. She's indignant and she's beautiful. I have to stop myself from reaching for her.

"I want you to stop running," I say, my voice rough with emotion I can't suppress. "I want you to understand that everything I do is about keeping you safe." The admission reveals vulnerabilities I usually keep buried, but with her I'm not myself. I never have been.

"Safe from everyone except you," she shoots back, her composure finally cracking.

"You talk about protection while you monitor my every movement, read my private correspondence, make decisions about what I can do without consulting me.

" Her voice rises with each word, years of suppressed anger finding expression.

The accusation hits its mark, but I don't apologize. "I need to know everything that affects you, affects us. The baby changes everything—the risks, the stakes, the future." I move closer, but she steps away, gasping and covering her mouth.

"You know? You’ve been following me? What kind of sick bastard are you?" She's livid, coughing, doubling over the sink as dry heaves well up in her chest and shake her torso.

"Rosa..." I reach for her and she bats me away, taking a towel from the counter to cover her face. "I only thought of our child."

"Our child?" The words explode from her with volcanic fury. "You mean your possession, your guarantee that I'll never be able to leave." She pushes against my chest, her hands small but fierce. "You've taken everything else—my career, my family, my freedom. Now you want to claim my child too?"

"I want to give our child a father," I reply, catching her wrists before she can strike me again.

"I want to give it a name that we can be proud of, protection that comes from the strength of having a family.

" Her pulse races beneath my fingers, and I can feel the tremor of exhaustion that runs through her frame.

"You're carrying the future of two families, whether you accept it or not. "

"I didn't choose this," she says, her voice breaking with suppressed tears.

"I didn't choose you, didn't choose this life, didn't choose to be the bridge between two criminal empires.

" The words pour out in a torrent, months of frustration and fear finally finding voice.

Tears well up in large droplets and roll down her cheeks.

"You've stolen my freedom, worse than Emilio!

And... and..." Her words stop as she chokes on them.

"Choice is a luxury people in our world don't get," I tell her, my grip on her wrists tightening.

"You think I chose to inherit my father's empire?

You think I chose to fall for a woman whose very existence threatens everything I've built?

" The raw confession slips out before I can stop it, and I stop for a moment.

My heart hammers against my ribs as she calms.

She stares at me with wide eyes, as if seeing me clearly for the first time. "You don't know what love is," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "You know possession, obsession, control. But you don't know how to love someone without destroying them."

"Then teach me," I say, my voice dropping to match hers.

"Show me how to love you. Show me what it means to let my heart feel without needing to control.

What it means to give you freedom without losing you.

" The admission leaves me exposed in ways that terrify me.

"Because losing you isn't an option I'm prepared to consider. "

Rosaria tries to pull away, but I hold her fast, my hands moving from her wrists to her shoulders. "Let me go, Salvatore," she pleads, but there's less conviction in her voice now, exhaustion bleeding through the anger. "Just let me go before this destroys us both."