Page 134 of The Underboss's Secret Twins

I don’t promise things I can’t control. I never have.

But I kiss her anyway.

It’s more than I should allow myself. She tastes like sleep, like warmth, like something I can never quite hold onto, no matter how hard I try. My hand slips to the nape of her neck, keeping her close for just a few more seconds, just long enough to pretend this moment isn’t about to end.

When I pull back, she’s still watching me.

Still waiting.

She doesn’t ask me to stay.

And I don’t tell her that Iwantto.

Instead, I rise, my hands lingering at her waist for a second longer than necessary. "Rest," I murmur. "I’ll be back soon."

34

SOFIA

When Marco leaves, the last thing on my mind is rest. How can I rest when he is in danger’s way?

Instead, I head to the kitchen, hoping I will find my best friend there.

The scent of simmering tomatoes and garlic wraps around me the moment I step in, the warmth of the ovens casting a golden glow over the room. It feels like stepping into another world, one untouched by the violence and tension that have ruled my life these past few days.

Valentina stands at the stove, her dark hair pulled into a loose bun, stirring a pot as she sings softly. She doesn’t turn when she hears me enter—just gestures toward the stool at the island, as if she knew I’d be here before I did.

"Eat first," she says. "Then you can brood."

I exhale, dropping onto the stool. "That obvious?"

She finally glances at me, one brow arched. "Please. I have a husband and a son. I know exactly what someone looks like when they’re pretending they’re fine."

I don’t argue. Instead, I reach for the plate of fresh bread and cheese she’s set out, tearing off a piece and taking a bite. The firsttaste is a relief, the warmth of it settling deep in my stomach, but as I chew, my mind drifts back to Marco.

He’s out there, putting his life on the line, while I’m in here, eating breakfast.

I swallow hard.

Valentina watches me for a moment before turning back to the stove. "You know," she muses, "when I first married Luca, I used to count the hours."

I frown, confused. "Count the hours?"

"The ones between when he left and when he came back." She stirs the sauce, a small smile playing at her lips. "I’d sit here, just like you, trying to distract myself, telling myself I didn’t care. That I didn’t need him to walk through that door at the end of the day. That I was fine either way."

She turns, leaning against the counter, spoon still in hand. "It was a lie."

I set my bread down. "And now?"

"Now, I don’t count anymore." Her smile fades, but there’s no sadness in it. Just understanding. "Because I know he’ll always come back."

I let the words settle, staring down at my hands.

Marco will come back.

But what if he doesn’t?

Valentina must see the thought pass across my face, because she sighs and turns back to the stove. "You’re still fighting it."