UNCOVERING ROSE

THE SINFUL SECRETS SERIES

ANNIE CHARME

CHAMBRE ROSE PUBLISHING

Copyright © 2025 by Annie Charme

All rights reserved.

The moral rights of the author, Annie Charme to be identified as the author of this work have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

No part of this edition may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher and copyright holder. Except for the use of a brief quotation in a book review.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold or hired out in any form of binding other than that in which it is first published and without this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A catalogue record of this book is available from The British Library

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

First Published in 2025 by Chambre Rose Publishing

Cover Photographer @wanderaguiar_photography

Cover Model: Gianni

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7395768-7-5

FOREWORD

This book is written by a British author. Therefore all spellings and grammar are British English. 

While this book is not dark, there are some subjects that may not be suitable for some readers.

What you can expect in this story:

Parental death off page in the past, murder, gun violence, stalking, power play, strong language, mother with COPD, domestic violence, graphic sexual scenes.

PLAYLIST

Find the playlist on Spotify

Uncovering Rose - Annie Charme

Love Story - Taylor Swift

I Knew You Were Trouble - Taylor Swift

Young And Beautiful - Lana Del Rey

Poison - Rita Ora

You’re Somebody Else - Flora Cash

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

My Blood - Ellie Goulding

Infinity - Jaymes Young

Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex

Taste - Ari Abdul

Let The World Burn - Chris Grey

War Of Hearts - Ruelle

Littlest Things - Camylio

Before You Leave Me - Alex Warren

Carry You Home - Alex Warren

Nothing On But The Stars - Dierks Bentley

The Scientist - Coldplay

I Fell In Love With The Devil - Avril Lavigne

Feelslikeimfallinginlove - Coldplay

Tattoo - Loreen

I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace

Fire and the Flood - Vance Joy

Brother - Kodaline

I Found - Amber Run

Hold On - Chord Overstreet

Wings - Birdy

Dynasty - MIIA

Train Wreck - James Arthur

Dusk Till Dawn - ZAYN, Sia

Italian Glossary

Thank you, Gianni for all your help with Italian translations.

Assassino - Murderer

Buonanotte ometto - Good night little man

Ciao - Hi

Come hai—? - How did you⁠—?

Cugino - Cousin

Dolce Rosa - Sweet Rose

Eccoti qui - There you are

Ehi! Quella è la mia borsa! - Hey! That's my bag!

È l'angelo della morte - Is the angel of death

Figa - Pussy

Figlio di puttana - Son of a bitch

Fiore mio - My flower

Grazie - Thank you

Il ragazzo - The boy

La mia bella rosa - My beautiful rose

La mia spina velenosa - My poisonous thorn

L’angelo della morte - The angel of death

Lasciami - Leave me

Lei non è brava - She is not good

Nonna - Grandma

Non sapevo cosa fare - I didn't know what to do

Polizia - Police force

Portalo fuori - Take it outside

Ragazzo - Kid/Lad

Scusa - Excuse me

Sì - Yes

Signor - Mr

Signore - Sir

Solo uno - only one

Sorella - sister

Stronzo - Asshole

Tesoro - Treasure

Vaffanculo - Fuck you

Where fate plants thorns, love grows roses.

For every shattered soul and weathered heart—even the deepest scars can bloom.

1

DAN

Lights flicker as I walk down the boarding tunnel, luggage in one hand, phone pressed to my ear with the other. My heart thumps against my ribs, faster with each step. “I’m leaving England now. I’ll be in Rome in about three hours.”

“Is Dom with you?” Riccardo, my cousin, asks.

“Nah, he’s staying home working, plus he’s all loved up with a redhead called Poppy.” My lips quirk into a grin as I think of my brother wrapped around Poppy’s finger.

Riccardo snorts. “Isn’t it about time you found yourself a woman?”

“Not me. My heart’s a block of ice and I plan on keeping it that way. No distractions. No drama. Just how I like it. No woman is worth that kind of chaos.”

Riccardo chuckles down the phone. “Keep telling yourself that, cugino.”

A hint of jet fuel filters in from the cool air outside, making me nauseous. “I gotta go. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll have a car waiting for you at the airport.”

“Great. See you then.” I cancel the call and slip my phone into the inside pocket of my suit jacket. I pop a piece of gum in my mouth and the strawberry flavour bursts on my tongue, giving me something to focus on besides my impending doom.

The light up ahead is anything but welcoming. My stomach turns as if I’m on a rollercoaster. I rarely fly, but Riccardo insisted on me coming out for his sister’s wedding. Plus, my other cousin Matteo is flying in from the States next week. Hopefully, this will be the last trip I take for a while, killing two birds with one stone.

Moisture gathers on my brow. I clench my fist around the handles of my holdall. The threshold’s only a few feet away. I should’ve taken a Valium, but I need a clear head on foreign soil.

“Good morning, sir. Welcome aboard flight R606,” a flight attendant says in a familiar voice as soft as a petal.

My chest tightens. My gaze floats from her black patent shoes over her skin-coloured tights. A skirt hides her knees, covering thick thighs. A belt pinches her waist between generous hips and even fuller breasts, all outlined by a dusky pink uniform.

But it’s those lips that steal my breath away. Lips I’ve kissed a hundred times or more and a thousand times in my dreams.

“Rose?” Any remaining air is sucked from my lungs as I say her name out loud. My head pounds like a warning siren. This woman froze my heart almost fourteen years ago. Now her icy blue eyes stab me in the chest as she blankly stares at me as if we never knew each other.

My mouth parts as I wheeze in the thick air between us. Does she not remember the night we made love, the pink roses I would send her that matched the colour of her cheeks, and the secret rendezvous we’d have away from prying eyes?

“I’m sorry, sir.” She taps her silver name badge with a perfectly French tipped nail. “I’m Grace.”

I scan the metal badge. “Grace?” Blonde hair peeks out from under her hat and I’m questioning my sanity. My Rose was a brunette. And her family has enough money that she wouldn’t need to work. And she certainly wouldn’t be working as a flight attendant. But when I glance back into Grace’s eyes, memories of Rose come flooding back like a tidal wave threatening to pull me under her spell and drown me once and for all.

“Yes, sir. Grace Finch.”

It’s the impending flight and returning to Rome that’s playing tricks on my mind. That has to be it. “I’m sorry, miss. I thought you were someone I knew.”

She gives me a wide smile, pushing her cheeks up, making her eyes sparkle with a hint of sadness. Her hand reaches out and holds my arm over the cotton jacket, but I still feel the electricity surge through me from her touch. “Maybe we knew each other in a previous life.”

Her mask slips for a millisecond, and I see a glimmer of the woman I knew. Her hand snaps away as if she felt the spark too and her lip twitches before stretching back into a fake smile.

We lock eyes for a beat too long, the pulse in my neck throbbing like I’ve run a marathon. It feels like another lifetime when we were together, but the pain is as raw as it ever was.

A passenger behind me clears his throat, breaking my trip down memory lane.

She jumps right back into flight assistant mode. “Do you have your ticket, sir?”

I reach into my jacket pocket and hand her my boarding pass with a trembling hand. “Here you go, little bird.”

Her fingers brush mine, sending a spike of electricity through my limb. She scans the ticket. Her eyes narrow. Just for a second. Then she says through a tight jaw. “Welcome aboard, D’Angelo Bianchi.”

She eyes me again, this time with annoyance. “Business seats are towards the front.” Her voice tighter now, her fake smile a fraction more forced. “Please place your luggage in the overhead locker and review the safety instructions in the seat pocket, sir.” She hands back the boarding pass as if it’s laced with poison and gestures towards the front of the plane.

I nod and move forward, walking down the aisle to find my seat. My holdall’s never felt so heavy, my hand aching from clenching the handles.

Fuck.

I knew it was her. It has to be her. She can change her name, even her hair, but she can’t erase the memory of her locked in my head. She may be older with a fuller figure, but the eyes don’t lie.

Settling into my seat, I pull out my phone and text Dom.

Are you up?

My foot jitters, making my leg shake as I grow more impatient. The fucker’s probably too wrapped up in Poppy to bother looking at his phone.

I tap the call button and let it ring a few times. Come on, pick up the fucking phone.

“You better be dying or on fire,” Dom groans as he answers, his voice groggy from sleep. “It’s barely sunrise.”

“I think I may have died. I’m seeing fucking ghosts.”

Furniture creaks as if he’s sprung to life. “You on the plane?”

“Yeah.” I grip my knee to stop my leg from shaking.

“Is it the haunting memories of the accident again?”

I inhale a deep breath, trying to ground myself in the present. “Worse. It’s Rose.”

Silence stretches between us and the line crackles.

“You mean Rose Conti, our enemy’s daughter?”

I keep my voice low, checking my surroundings. “She’s working on this flight. Except she’s blonde and calling herself Grace Finch.”

“Shit.” Dom sounds more awake now. “You sure it’s her?”

“I’d bet my left nut.”

“Not the right one?”

I quirk a grin. “Left’s the lucky one.”

“All right, what do you want me to do?”

“Run the name. See when she changed it, where she’s been. I need to know everything. She acted like she didn’t recognise me.”

He huffs. “She didn’t recognise you? Mate, maybe you’ve aged worse than you think. Or maybe you’re hallucinating again. Pre-flight jitters.”

I clench my fist and stretch out my fingers. “It’s her. I can feel it.”

“You psychic now?” There’s a smile in his tone. “Don’t tell me—you feel it in your balls.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m hanging up.”

“Wait, wait! Fine, I’ll dig around. Text me the details. Grace Finch, right?”

“Yeah. And Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” My brother may be a pain in my arse, but he’s never let me down yet.

“No worries. Just… be careful. You’ve got history with this one.”

“Yeah. History, scars, and maybe a shot at closure.” I run a hand over my face, hoping I can get some fucking closure.

“Or another round of trauma.” Dom chuckles down the phone.

“We’ll see.” I cancel the call, text over the details, then place my phone in my trouser pocket and shrug off my jacket, needing to cool down. My fingers fiddle with the overhead air conditioning and I relax into the seat, wiping my brow as it blows cool air onto my face.

I chew, slow and steady, the gum the only thing keeping me from losing my shit completely. The nausea is still raging in my belly, but now the impending flight is not the main cause.

Rose, or Grace, carries on directing passengers as they board the plane, keeping her cool and professionalism, unlike me. One heated glance from her and I’m a fucking mess. I lean my head back and close my eyes, slowing down my breathing and counting to five. Twelve years in the army and ten years in espionage and it’s a woman to bring me to my fucking knees.

“Sir?” A soft voice has me opening my eyes, but it’s not her. “Are you all right?”

“No. Can you ask your colleague to bring me a hot towel, please?”

A hot towel?

I wipe my top lip and curse myself inwardly for being so fucking pathetic.

“I can get that for you, sir.” She gives me a warm smile, but it’s not her I want. “I need to talk with your colleague. Please.” Rose may be like a thorn in my side, but I’m a glutton for punishment and now I have her in my grasp. I can’t let her go again.

The girl nods. “I’ll see what I can do, sir.”

I lean back in the seat, inhaling the cold air from the blowers. I know it’s a recipe for germs, but it’s the only thing keeping me cool.

“You asked for me?”

I peel open my eyes to Rose in the aisle next to my seat , a wrinkle between her eyebrows as she studies me. Heat billows in my chest as if her gaze has melted the ice around my heart and set it alight.

“Are you all right?” She folds a hot towel in her hand. “You’re burning up.”

I take it from her and dab my forehead. “I’ll be fine once we’re in the air. It’s just takeoff that gives me bad memories.”

“As soon as we’re in flight, I’ll get you a drink to take the edge off. Would you like a water or anything before takeoff?”

“I have a bottle of water.” I hand her the towel back.

Her touch soothes me as she presses it against my cheek. “Try to relax. I won’t let anything happen to you.” She places the towel onto the tray and turns around.

I reach out and grab her wrist. “Rose.”

She turns around with a smile. “It’s Grace, sir.”

“Thank you,” I say, but she’s already walking away.

She can call herself whatever she likes.

But she’ll always be my Rose.

The one whose thorns stabbed me in the back.

2

ROSE

“What was all that about with Mr. Inferno back there?” my colleague, Lisa says as we buckle up, ready for takeoff.

“Mr. Inferno?” I stare blankly, my head still whirling as if caught in a tailspin.

Lisa rolls her eyes as I feign ignorance. “You know, tall, dark, broody with ink like sin and a smoulder that could melt metal.”

Of course, she’s talking about Dan or D’Angelo or whatever he calls himself. He’s the hottest man on this flight and the most deceitful. I smooth out an imaginary wrinkle in my skirt. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Well, he sure set my knickers on fire. If he called me Rose, I’d change my bloody name. He can call me anything he likes.”

My lips curve into a smile. All these years, I always wondered what it would be like to bump into him again. And now I don’t even know what to say. My fingers fumble with the seatbelt as the plane approaches the runway. I hope Dan’s all right. He never told me he was an anxious passenger, or maybe it was seeing me again after all these years that had him all hot and bothered. I laugh inwardly at the ridiculous thought. Men don’t get excitable with worn-out, overweight single mums in their thirties.

The plane gains speed and I’m pinned back in my seat. The cabin shakes as we boom down the runway. My stomach flips on lift-off. I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation. My favourite part of this job is being in the air. It’s the only place I can be free without looking over my shoulder.

Except today.

When he said my name, I wanted to wrap my arms around him, bask in his safety, but I also wanted to slap him across the face. He may be Mr. Inferno, but I can’t let his devilishly handsome looks blind me as to who he really is and what he did to me. I need to keep myself under control around him and play it cool.

It’s just under a three-hour flight.

I can get through this.

“I wonder who Rose is?” Lisa says.

“Probably a dead girlfriend.” I may as well be dead to him. It’s been thirteen years and nine months, to be exact, and he’s made no attempt to reach out to me. It wouldn’t have been that difficult to find me before I changed my name.

“Ooooh, that’s tragic,” Lisa says. She doesn’t know the half of it. Our story could give Romeo and Juliet a run for its money. I may not have killed myself, but I’ve been numb since the day he left.

The light signals that we’re able to take off our seatbelts. “Time to get to work.” Lisa loads the drinks trolly.

“Do you want to take business class and I’ll do economy?” Avoiding him is probably for the best. I can’t be dragged into his world. Years ago, I was a naïve little girl. Now a woman, I am all too familiar with the ways of men. Being forced to marry a narcissist and head of the London crime syndicate, you learn fast how to deal with men.

“Sure. I’ll take Mr. Inferno.” She gives me a wink and sashays through the curtain, pushing the first class trolley.

I slip into the locker and pull my phone out of my pocket, checking I’m connected to the plane’s Wi-Fi, and send a message.

Good luck today with your football match. Love you. X

My son’s picture smiles at me on my screen backdrop. An old photo of just the two of us. Just how I like it. I slip the phone back into my locker and carry on loading the trolley.

Lisa’s head pokes out from behind the curtain. “Grace. He’s asking for you.”

I roll my eyes. Of course he is. “Tell him I’m busy.”

“I did, but he insisted he wants you to serve him.”

Blood rushes to my head, making it difficult to think straight. I tug at my necktie, needing more air.

“Are you all right?”

“Just a little light-headed.” I fold the seat down and sit, taking deep breaths. I’ve been through hell. Another two hours with Dan should be like a walk in the park, but the thought of going back out there makes me nauseous.

“Take a minute. I’ll tell him you’re indisposed.”

“Thanks.” I lock myself in the toilet for a few minutes. I need to get it together. He’ll be waiting for the drink I promised, but I just can’t bring myself to go back out there. I should pour myself a shot for Dutch courage.

Staring at the mirror, I check my reflection. Thanks to a full face of makeup, I don’t look pale or flustered.

He’s just a man. A man who broke your heart. I sigh and close my eyes. A hundred memories race through my head. Memories I’ve tried to forget. Thinking of him was too painful.

The smell of the chemical toilet hits my nose and I need air. I need to get off this plane and put as much distance between us as possible.

I lift the handle and unlock the door, but as I push it open, tattooed fingers curl around the frame. My heart beats wildly beneath my ribs, like a caged bird trying to escape, but on the outside, I remain calm. I’m trained to deal with any flight emergency, but this isn’t turbulence. This is a crash waiting to happen.

Within seconds, D’Angelo’s pushing me back inside the cubicle. He locks the door behind him.

With nowhere to go in the tight space, my back hits the mirror behind me. “Sir?” Don’t react. Don’t let him see you’re shaking. Years of masking helps me portray a cool demeanour, but on the inside my muscles are wound so tight, my whole body aches.

“Shh.” His hand cups my cheek, then moves around my neck, gripping me with the gentlest touch. My flesh heats where his skin lingers. “It’s only me. You don’t have to be afraid of me, little bird.”

I should push him away. I should scream. But my body remembers him even when my mind wants to forget. “What do you want?” My voice quivers.

His eyes darken, flecks of grey and blue swirling around his pupils. “You’re trembling.”

Of course I’m trembling. You’re my heartbreak and fantasy rolled into one. “There’s a stranger holding me hostage by the throat,” I snark back.

He leans closer, his lips a breath away. Why does he have to smell so divine? “I’m no stranger, fiore mio.”

And just like that, any barrier I’d built comes crumbling down when he calls me his flower. Tears pool in the corners of my eyes. Heat pools between my thighs and I’m sure my heart’s bleeding on the inside.

“Why are you hiding? Why change your name? Are you in trouble?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My body tenses, my hand curls around his at my throat, the warmth of him seeping into my skin.

He narrows his eyes. “You can change your name. Change your hair. Even your accent. But I’d recognise these eyes of yours anywhere and these lips.” His thumb runs along the seam of my mouth, causing a whimper to escape.

I shake my head. “You always act like the hero. But you couldn’t save me back then and you can’t save me now. Just let the past stay in the past.”

“I didn’t know you needed saving. You left me and got fucking married.” His grip on my throat tightens. With his other hand, he reaches for my wrist, then holds my ring finger up to the light.

It’s been eight years since I wore my wedding ring. Eight years since I changed my name and moved north. Eight years of gaining a small piece of myself back. Yet I can still feel the weight of that ring. Still feel the prison of a promise I never wanted. And somehow, Dan’s touch makes me feel free again.

Dan exhales, his warm breath fanning the heat rolling off of me. His shoulders drop as his fingers massage where my ring once shackled me to a life of misery. He gazes into my eyes as if he can read the small print. Even after all these years, he still knows how to touch me like I’m something precious. That’s the most dangerous thing about him.

I try to remember why I hate him before I become putty in his arms. “You were the one who used me to get close to my family. I may have been a silly girl in love back then, but I’m a woman now.” The anger in my belly fuels the fire in me to stand my ground.

“I can see that.” He continues to massage my finger as if he can erase the ghost of my ring that still binds me to a man I loathe. His forehead rests against mine as he whispers, “You’re still mine, fiore mio.” He interlaces our fingers as if binding us together. “You said you won’t let anything happen to me on this flight. I won’t let anything happen to you on the ground. Tell me who you’re afraid of.”

I believe him. As silly as it sounds after everything that’s happened between us and what he did to my father, I believe this man would take a bullet for me. But it doesn’t change a thing. He betrayed me and he left. “The only person I’m afraid of right now is you.”

His eyes sadden. He lets go of my hand and my throat and takes a step back, putting some distance between us. It’s not enough, but at least I can breathe a little easier.

I’m not afraid of him hurting me. It’s a different fear. I’m afraid if I stay in this close proximity to him, I’ll do something I regret. I can handle most men. But D’Angelo isn’t just any man. He was my first love. My first sexual experience and my first heartbreak. He’s woven into my history and become part of who I am today—an empty shell with a hard exterior, aware of the ways of the world.

I smooth my palms over my uniform with an intake of breath. “We’re going to leave this cubicle and go about our day as if this never happened. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. Then when we land, we forget we ever saw each other.”

“Is that what you want?”

No. I want to go back to when I was eighteen. Before I knew the truth. I want you to hold me and tell me you love me and I want to feel the way I did in the safety of your arms. But what’s done can never be undone. “It’s the only thing we can do.”

I slide the lock and squeeze past him as I force myself out of the space and retreat behind the curtain into the cabin. My fingers curl around my neck where his touch is seared into my skin. I take deep breaths to calm my nerves as I watch him stride back to his seat as if he owns the plane. A complete contrast to the man a while ago who was gripping onto the armrest as if his life depended on it.

What’s happened to him since I last saw him? He never mentioned a fear of flying, but then everything that came out of his mouth was no doubt a lie.

My hands tremble, so I grip the trolley tighter and paste on a fake smile as I return to business class, the plane floor trembling beneath me, matching my limbs.

“About bloody time,” a man in a suit says.

Dan spins his head around as he stands in the aisle, reaching for his bag in the overhead locker.

“I’m sorry, sir. What can I do for you?” I put on my best mask and smile at the man.

“You can do your bloody job properly. That’s what. I’ve been waiting ages for a bloody drink.”

Smiling through gritted teeth, I keep my mask in place. “I’m sorry. Would you like tea, coffee, or⁠—”

“Vodka. And hurry the fuck up, would you?”

“Yes, sir.” I bend over and retrieve a small bottle of vodka from the trolley. If my years of marriage taught me anything, it’s obedience. Silently, I curse myself for putting up with passengers like him, but the last thing I need is any more drama in my life. As I straighten my spine, I’m met with a wall of muscle at my back. Goose bumps break out on my skin as D’Angelo’s intoxicating scent surrounds me.

Dan sniggers and takes the small bottle of vodka from my hand. “Allow me.” He grips the man’s face between his finger and thumb. “I think you need to apologise to the flight attendant.”

My eyes widen. “Sir. Please take a seat.” My lips form a tight line as I glare at Dan.

The man spits out, “Fuck you.” He has no idea what Dan’s capable of.

Dan unscrews the cap with his teeth, then shoves the bottle in the man’s mouth, forcing him to guzzle it down or risk choking.

I gasp, and look around, checking for any sign of an air marshal before this gets out of hand.

The man’s fingers claw at Dan’s arm, but Dan remains calm and removes the bottle.

“You must’ve been thirsty,” Dan says, inspecting the empty bottle. “Grace, hand me another. Let’s give the passenger what he’s asked for.”

I should stop him. Tell him I don’t need saving, but watching him stand up for me is the first time I’ve felt seen in years. A part of me doesn’t want him to stop. Not this time. Not when it feels this good to be visible again.

The man gasps for breath. “You’re fucking crazy, man. Security,” he shouts.

“Yes, let’s get security, shall we? You need to learn some fucking manners.” Dan turns to me. “Grace, another bottle, please.”

My pulse throbs in my neck, but on the surface, I remain graceful, like a swan. Underneath I’m kicking my legs just to stay afloat. With another glare at Dan, I turn around and bend down to retrieve another bottle from the trolley.

“All right. I’m fucking sorry, okay?” The man’s face burns red.

“Don’t say it to me. Say it to the lady who’s serving you.”

He tilts his head. “I’m sorry, miss.”

Dan pats the man’s knee. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Can I have a bottle of water, miss?” the man asks. “Please.”

Dan sniggers as he walks back to his seat.

I roll my eyes. Some things never change. There was a time I'd have told someone like this man to go to hell, but after what I've endured, a few snarky words seem miniscule. I'm conditioned not to cause a scene. Keep my head down and get on with my job. Another reason why I cannot and will not allow Dan back into my life. He would disrupt the safe space I’ve built for me and my son.

After serving a few more passengers, I pour Dan a whiskey before he asks, knowing that was always his go-to drink. “It’s not the finest brand, but it’ll take the edge off.”

His fingers wrap around the glass over mine, sending an electrical current through my bloodstream. “Thank you, Grace.”

I smile and lean down to whisper, “You didn’t need to get involved back there. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

He gulps, his sight lined up to my cleavage. “I already told you, I can see that. But I’ll never stop protecting my flower.”

Our eyes lock again and it’s like a zap to the heart each time he uses the pet name against me. It’s as if all the other stuff doesn’t matter. For a split second, I’m his and everything feels right in the world. But I barely survived the fallout the last time I let him in. If I fall for his lies again, I’m not crashing alone. I’m taking my son with me. And I can’t let that happen.

3

DAN

The seat shakes as the wheels touch down on the runway and I let out a sigh of relief. My muscles burn as if I’ve just done a workout. Then I glance over the seat in front of me and catch Rose’s eyes as she gazes at me with a reminiscent smile. At that moment, all the tension leaves my body.

She always had a way to calm my mind. It’s true what she said about me using her for information. I was young and vengeful back then and would have done anything to avenge my mother, but the more I got to know Rose, the more she discovered my heart. It’s as if she has the key to lock it away and unlock it as she pleases, because I haven’t felt it since the day she married someone else.

Until now.

I wipe the sheen of sweat from my brow and gather my things, throwing my jacket back on and lifting my bag down from the overhead locker. Despite my desperate need to get off this aircraft, I stay until the last of the passengers have exited, just so I can be near her for a little longer. Even if she blanks me or treats me like I’m just another passenger—I need one more glance. Just one more hit, not knowing when I’ll see her again.

While I wait, I turn my phone off airplane mode and check the messages filtering in. Including an email from Dom.

Rosetta Conti ceased to exist eight years ago and Grace Finch came on the scene around the same time. Definitely the same person from the photo scan. Although there isn’t much online for Grace other than a flight attendant ID registered with the airline company. Her son is pretty obscure, too. Apart from her working with the airline within a public-facing role, the two have kept a low profile.

Thanks. I’ve spoken to her. She acknowledged me when I cornered her in the restroom. Get me an address. Everything you can find. Especially on the son. And the ex. Magnus Berlusconi. Last I heard, he was still serving time.

I shove my phone in the inside pocket of my jacket and make my way to the exit, carrying my holdall.

Rose holds out her hand. “Thank you for flying with us today, sir.”

I take her hand in mine, then lean in to whisper, “It’s been a pleasure.” Damn, her scent drives me wild. My lips brush against her neck, barely a hair’s breadth, but I don’t miss how her body reacts to me as she shivers, sucking in a sharp breath. I commit this moment to memory, inhaling her sweet floral aroma as if she bathes in rose petals. “I’ll see you soon.”

Her eyes narrow, as if annoyed by my assumption.

I let go of her hand and give her a wink before I step onto the metal staircase. The sun warms my face and even though my life’s just become a lot more complicated, I’m walking on air. I’ve no idea when I’ll see her again, but I’m gonna make damn sure when I return home, I’m on her flight.

If I have to take more trips to get closer to her, then so be it.

Finally through passport control, I walk through the departure lounge and look for Riccardo’s driver, but I’m greeted by my cousin instead.

“Look at you. You old bastard.” He throws his arm around me with a hearty laugh.

“I’m still fitter than you.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He pats his slightly rotund belly. “It’s what good living and a good woman does to a man. You should try settling down, my friend.”

I huff out a laugh. Two things that have evaded me so far. “How can I when I’m always busy working for you?”

We walk towards the black car waiting at the departure exit, Riccardo telling me all about his growing family. The guy must have a breeding kink as his wife’s always pregnant.

“Smoke?” Riccardo offers me a cigarette as we step out into the warm air.

I shake my head. “Haven’t smoked in years.” Although, I could fucking do with one right now. Instead, I slip my hand into my emergency packet of gum for times like this when I’m tempted.

The driver lifts the boot, and I drop my holdall from my shoulder onto the carpeted interior. That fresh valeted car smell hits my nose, along with a hint of leather from the seats.

Popping a piece of gum into my mouth, I let my jaw hang open as Rose exits the automatic doors, pulling a small grey case on wheels.

“You getting in?” Riccardo says, lowering his window.

I chew on the gum, thinking about my next move.

Rose climbs into a white taxi.

“I’ll catch up with you at the house.” Before I let Riccardo respond, I’m jogging over to the taxi stand.

4

ROSE

The disinfectant smell hits me before I reach Mamma’s floor, bringing back memories of all the times I’ve been in the emergency room with various injuries. Whether in Rome or England, hospitals smell the same. “How is she?” I ask my brother, Elio, as I walk down the brightly lit corridor.

“Lei non è brava. She’s been asking for you.” Elio pauses, rubbing a hand over the lines on his forehead. “I think she’s waiting for you. Before…” His hand runs through his dark hair peppered with grey, showing the telltale signs of age and the stresses of life. “I’m sorry, sorella. I wouldn’t have contacted you if it wasn’t necessary.”

“Sì, I know.” I stroke his arm, the fine weave of his luxury suit soft beneath my palm.

“You’re still working the skies, I see?” my brother says, nodding to my necktie and pink uniform. “What happened to the money I sent you? There’s no need for you to work.”

“I used it for Angelos’ education. Besides, I love my job.”

“If you wanted extra money, you should have asked me.” Elio pauses at the door, his eyes narrowing as he looks down the corridor.

“What’s wrong?”

His jaw clenches. “Thought I saw a ghost.”

I know all about seeing ghosts today, but I don’t tell Elio that, he’d have the entire polizia searching for Dan if he knew he was in Rome.

Elio pushes the door open to Mamma’s private room. “Rosetta’s here, Mamma.” Elio swipes the grey hair from my mother’s forehead and presses a gentle kiss there. A tenderness I haven’t seen in him for years.

My shoulders curve inwards as my chest caves. On the phone, Elio had said she was in a bad way, but I never expected her to look so frail. “Mamma?”

With a shaky hand, as if using all her strength, she tugs the oxygen mask from her mouth and lets it rest beneath her chin. “La mia bella rosa.”

“I’m here, Mamma.” Tears gather in the corner of my eyes as I lift her frail hand in mine, her skin paper thin over her delicate bones.

“Elio, get me my glasses.” She pats the bed as if searching for them.

“Here you go.” Elio lifts them from the bedside table and places them on Mamma’s face.

“Ah, much better.” Mamma clasps both hands around mine as she gazes at me with a smile. Her lavender hand cream catches in my nose, the familiar scent calming me.

Elio straightens his tie. “I’ve got to make some phone calls. I’ll be back soon, Mamma. Is there anything you need?”

“A pack of cigarettes,” she says jokingly in a croaky voice.

“That’s what got you into this mess.” He frowns, then exits the room, leaving me alone with my mother.

She coughs, the sound rattling her chest as if she’s about to bring up a lung. Her fingers fumble with the remote at the side of the bed.

“Mamma, let me help you.” I walk around the bed and lift a jug of water from the bedside table, filling a plastic cup.

She presses a button on the bed, lifting her to a sitting position and takes a few sips of the water. “That’s better. How’s my grandson doing?”

I sit in the chair next to her, my chest swelling with pride. “He’s grown so much. Let me show you a picture.” Opening the cross-body bag at my waist, I pull out my phone and scroll through my gallery. One regret I have about distancing myself from the family is that I haven’t been to visit my mother as often as I’d like. The last time she saw Angelos was three years ago at a remote villa in France that we hired.

“This was him last month at a football game.” I show her the picture of Angelos looking rather muddy after his game.

“He’s got so tall.” Her frail finger traces the outline of him on my screen.

“He’s almost as tall as me now, look.” I swipe the photo left to reveal another with the two of us together.

“Such a handsome young man.”

“Yes, he is.” A lump forms in my throat. She said the same thing about Dan when she found out I was secretly dating him. Before we found out who he really was and everything turned to shit.

Seeing him today has brought all the hurtful and bitter memories back to the surface. I loved him, but I hate him. I cannot forget what he did to me. My feelings for him are so conflicted, but regardless of how I feel, I need to keep my distance from him.

Mamma continues to scroll through my phone, looking at all my photographs. “Where is he now?”

“He’s staying at the boarding school until he’s eighteen.”

“I think it’s the best place for him. At least you know he’s safe.”

“You’re right. I just miss him terribly.” A whimsical smile spreads across my face as I gaze at images of Angelos. “He has a test today for Italian.”

“He should do well with that. It’s his first language.”

I hang my head low in shame. I should have spoken more Italian when he was growing up, but after Magnus was sent down, we moved away, changed our names, and I spoke English as much as possible, even adapted the local accent over time. Anything to erase my past.

“He’s good at Italian, French, and Spanish. But he’s really sharp on a computer. Hopefully, he’ll put those skills to good use one day instead of just gaming. With his knack for languages and tech, he could end up in foreign intelligence if he wanted.” I silently laugh to myself, realising the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“Don’t let your brother hear you say that. He’ll want him working for him.”

“If Elio had his way, I’d be working for him, too.” I love my brother, but after my father passed away, he stepped right into our father’s shoes, running the family business with our uncle’s help. Growing up, I’d hoped he’d carve out his own path, but I guess this is all he knows.

Mamma brings her handkerchief to her mouth as she coughs again.

I take my phone from her and hand her the cup of water.

She takes another sip and drops her head back on the pillow with a sigh. “Get me out of this stuffy room, would you? I’ve been cooped up in here all week.”

“Let me see if I can get the nurse to help me get you into a wheelchair and we’ll go for a stroll around the grounds.”

Freedom.

The world always feels a little softer in the sun. Seeing Mamma after so long, it almost feels like coming home. Even if Rome still holds shadows of Dan, part of me still wants to belong here, to cling to the memories, to the way it felt to be loved by him… before I knew the harsh truth.

5

DAN

Ikeep my distance, following Rose into the hospital. She greets her brother just ahead, and I hang back, half hidden behind a vending machine, trying to act casual but probably looking more like Inspector Clouseau. Only it’s not the Pink Panther I’m hunting—it’s a pink flight attendant who stole my sanity.

Elio, her brother, turns his head as if sensing my eyes burning into the back of his jacket. The man’s harmless enough. Nothing like his ruthless father or his uncle. If I’d stepped on Italian soil while their uncle was alive, I’d have been a dead man, but when he passed, so did a lot of his grudges.

I listen to their exchange, realising her mother’s ill. I’m not sure Elio or her mother would recognise me after all this time, but with the ink on my hands and neck, I stand out.

Silently I curse myself for having these markings, even if the roses are a reminder that beneath everything beautiful lies a bed of thorns. And every soft petal is laced with poison that eats away at the heart.

I stare into the paper cup of Italy’s crappiest coffee from the vending machine while I wait down the corridor for Rosetta. My unhealthy obsession with her took over my life years ago. When her husband was incarcerated, she disappeared. I assumed she’d gone back to Italy. And only then was I able to move on, unable to keep tabs on her from a distance. Now it seems all this time she’s been hiding in plain sight. If only I flew more regularly, our paths might have crossed before now.

Rose steps out of the room with her mother in a wheelchair, an oxygen tank attached to the back. Her mother pulls the mask down from her face. “It’s this way.” Her thin arm lifts slightly, pointing in my direction.

Fuck. I slip into a waiting room as Rose pushes the chair down the corridor. My heart races and I look up to the spotlights in the ceiling, wondering what the hell I’m doing here.

She’s just visiting her sick mother, getting on with her life as though our encounter today meant nothing to her. Just like when she married less than a month after I left Italy, despite promising she’d wait for me, she went and fucking married someone else as though I’d never existed.

I crush the cup in my fist like it’s the last shred of patience I have left. I toss it in the bin without looking as I follow the track marks on the linoleum floor until I get to the exit that leads out to the hospital grounds.

Lush, green Italian stone pine trees line the path, giving me some shade from the midday sun. Gravel crunches under my leather shoes and I step sideways onto the grass, inhaling the scent of pine nuts, a welcome aroma from the disinfectant air inside.

Out here, you wouldn’t know you were at a hospital, more like a garden or park. Memories of our time in the Villa Borghese creep in. The birds chirping, the sun peeking through the trees, the breeze on my face—it’s like I’m there again, watching her, only this time my intentions are different.

I feel in my trouser pocket for another piece of gum, the only thing keeping me calm and stopping me from going over there and demanding answers.

I stay behind a tree as they settle on a nearby bench. I lean against the bark while I listen in to their conversation carrying on the summer breeze.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary, just the regular conversation about the weather, her mother’s health, and her job as a flight attendant.

“I have to go soon, Mamma. I have a flight back to England in a few hours.”

Her mother coughs, then says, “Will I see you again?”

“Oh, Mamma.” A sob escapes Rose’s lips, and I know she’s crying. “I’ll try to get a layover so I can spend more time with you.”

“There, there. Don’t cry. You’re a Conti. Us women are strong.” Her mother’s laugh turns into a cough.

I close my eyes, wishing I could hold Rose. I know what it’s like to lose a mother. My jaw tightens remembering the frightened twelve-year-old boy staying strong for his little brother the night they came. I cannot forget who it was that ruined my life. No matter how much I fell for Rosetta, she’s still a Conti and our families have been at odds for decades.

Our relationship was doomed from the start. It was a means to an end to gather the information I needed. I never expected to fall for the innocent, chubby girl who stole my heart before she broke it in two.

Rose sniffles. “I need to get you back inside.”

“Leave me here. I’m enjoying the sun on my face and the fresh air.”

“I’m not sure I’m allowed to do that, Mamma.”

She coughs again. “Just tell the nurse and they’ll send someone out to get me.”

“All right. I love you.”

“La mia bella rosa. You’ve been the light of my life. You know I’m proud of you, don’t you?”

“You’re going to make me cry again.”

“I need to tell you something, but it can wait. You don’t want to miss your flight.”

“Are you gonna be all right? You have your phone?”

“Yes. Go. Don’t worry about me.”

I steal a glance from behind the tree as Rose leaves her mother, heading back into the hospital. I don’t bother following. My return flight isn’t until next week. I have business to do here. Plus, Riccardo would kill me if I missed his sister’s wedding.

My shoulders relax a little as Rose disappears through the rotating doors. I should get back to my cousin. He’s probably wondering why I ditched him like that and sent him home with nothing but my holdall.

I turn around to head back through the hospital to the main exit but freeze as Lucia Conti clears her throat.

“You can come out of hiding. I know you’re there.” She coughs again, holding a tissue over her mouth.

I step closer, checking my surroundings. “How long have you known I was here?”

“I might be weak, but up here I’m still as sharp as the rest of them.” She taps the side of her temple as she squints up at me. “Have you come to finish me off?”

I can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes. And I let the old dear get a good look at my face as I take a seat on the bench next to her. “I’m here with Rose. I’m Dan—” I stop myself from saying my full name, after what I did to Rose’s family.

She pushes her glasses up her nose and takes a good look at me. “D’Angelo? The angel of death?”

“I see my reputation precedes me.”

Her lips relax into a warm smile. “I always wondered if you’d find each other again.” She brings her hand to my face and pats my cheek. “You look just like him.”

“That’s what everyone says.” I stroke the bristles on my jaw, wondering who the fuck she’s talking about. But I try my best to play along. It seems she knows more than I thought.

“I’ll sleep easier tonight, knowing she has someone looking out for her and my grandson. She took a big risk coming here today.”

I nod along. Even though it’s easier to hate Rose, there’s no denying I’m obsessed with her. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t. “Who does she need protection from?”

“Magnus, her husband. He visited a while ago asking for her. But Rose has been careful. Not even me or Elio know where she lives. I just hope he’s back in London and stays there.”

“Does she know?” I gulp down the cactus in my throat. I should have kept tabs on him. My fist clenches when I think about all the times he got to touch her.

“She knows he was released a few months back. Out on good behaviour, apparently.”

“The irony.” I check my watch. Damn it. I need to check her schedule and have someone monitor her back home in the UK. Losing a mother at twelve ruined my childhood. No kid should have to go through that.

Lucia’s lips press into a thin line. “You owe her, Dan. You’re the only one who can protect her when she’s in the UK.” Her words hit harder than I expect, like a slap across the face, wrapped in silk.

I nod, the weight of my sins anchoring in my chest. “I’ll take care of her,” I say. “No one will touch a hair on her head. Not while I’m breathing.”

She gives a tired smile and leans her head back, the oxygen mask slipping slightly. “I believe you.” Her eyes flutter closed for a second, then she turns her head slowly towards me. “I’m sorry…” Her voice cracks.

I’m about to ask what she’s sorry for when the automatic doors whoosh open, followed by quick footsteps on the path.

“Eccoti qui. There you are,” a nurse says cheerily. “We’ve been looking for you, Signora Conti. You’re not supposed to be out here unattended.”

Lucia waves her hand, the oxygen mask still dangling. “I’m not unattended.”

The nurse frowns at me briefly, taking in my ink and the roughness that never really leaves my face. “Are you family?”

Lucia answers before I can. “Something like that.”

The nurse gives a tight smile and unlocks the brakes on the wheelchair. “Let’s get you back inside.”

Lucia coughs again. Her head turns, eyes locking with mine as the nurse wheels her away.

“Don’t let her go this time, Dan.”

I stay rooted to the bench, watching as they disappear through the trees. That last request echoing like an order.

“Mamma, who were you talking to?” Elio’s voice carries on the breeze.

I can’t hear her response as the hospital doors close. I don’t know what she was about to say sorry for, but it lingers like smoke, burning through my thoughts as I sit alone.

I press my elbows to my knees, burying my face in my hands, breathing Rose’s scent from the breeze and the ghost of what we used to be.

This time, I won’t lose her.

Even if it kills me.

6

ROSE

“Everything all right with your mum?” Lisa asks as we buckle up for takeoff.

“She was in a bad way. The pneumonia really took it out of her with her COPD. When Elio called the other day, he didn’t think she’d last the week, but the doctors said she perked up today knowing I was visiting.”

“I’m glad you could switch flights.”

“Me too. Hopefully I can do the Manchester to Rome route more often.” I lean my head back and close my eyes as we pick up speed on the runway. My stomach flutters as we lift off. I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving the feeling of weightlessness as I leave all my troubles on the ground, including D’Angelo Bianchi.

The flutters in my belly turn to knots when I remember seeing him today. How is it possible to love and hate someone at the same time?

My ears muffle to the sounds of the engine as we rise higher. Clouds float by the window in the door and the plane levels out. An overwhelming peace washes over me as we glide above the clouds.

Up here I’m as free as a bird. No Magnus and no D’Angelo. The only worries I have are my mother and Angelos, but I know he’s safe at his school and right now he’ll be at his football match.

My chest swells with pride, knowing I raised my son all by myself. He doesn’t know the details of my marriage. He thinks we moved and changed our name because his father was in prison and we didn’t want anyone to know we were related to a criminal. There’s no point in telling Angelos we changed our name to make it difficult for Magnus and his family to find us.

Angelos only witnessed my abuse a few times, and he was too young to remember. He idolised Magnus And Magnus knew it.

Any abuse I suffered was always behind closed doors. To everyone else, he was the perfect gentleman.

But I knew him for what he was.

A monster.

“Thank you.” I pay the taxi driver and wheel my case down the drive to my small two-bed semi-detached on the outskirts of the city. A quiet area where the most exciting thing that happens on the street is bin day. Just how I like it, but tonight, something feels off.

From the corner of my eye, a shadow flits past the neighbour’s hedge. I stop, still as a statue. My head jerks in that direction, but when I turn, there’s nothing. Just leaves rustling in the wind. Still, my pulse kicks up.

I shake it off and keep walking. It’s just my imagination after seeing D’Angelo today. The wheels of my case bump over the paving slabs. I wave my hand in front of the sensor when the porch light doesn’t automatically turn on like it always does. My stomach twists.

“Come on…” I mutter, waving again until it finally flickers to life. Another thing I need to fix around here. I glance around quickly, shadows stretch long across the lawn, clawing towards the house like dark fingers, as if trying to reach for me.

Hairs prickle on the back of my neck, and an uneasy shiver runs the length of my spine. My heart rate accelerates as I dare to scan my surroundings one more time. Uneasiness manifests in my stomach. I fumble with my keys and let out a sigh when the correct one slides into the keyhole and turns to unlock my front door.

“Meow.” My cat, Sir-Pounce-A-Lot, lands at my feet.

“For goodness’ sake.” I let out a long breath and relax my shoulders as I scoop my big black cat into my arm and carry him over the threshold, wheeling my case behind me.

I let out a shaky laugh, stroking his thick fur. The smell of home—the faint scent of jasmine from the plug-in diffuser—grounds me. “You had me on edge. I thought someone was watching me.” Another laugh escapes, but after the day I’ve had, it seems not all my ghosts are laid to rest. But it’s not Dan I’m worried about. If Magnus has found us… No, don’t go there. He can’t hurt me anymore.

I hug my cat close to my chest, his warmth soothing. “There’s a reason we call you Sir-Pounce-A-Lot.” I kiss his black fur and set him down near his feeding mat in the kitchen, where he waits for me to give him fresh food and water.

“There you go,” I murmur, scratching behind his ears as he munches. “You’ve probably been fed by the entire street again.” I smile, picturing him making the rounds with his mournful eyes and soft paws. “You little con artist.”

I slip off my shoes in the hallway and notice a picture askew on the console table. Angelos and me at his award ceremony at school a few years ago. I smile as I look at my son’s picture. He's always resembled my brother Elio, but now I see so much of his father in him.

Guilt climbs up my throat, threatening to spill out of my mouth, but I swallow it down. I shouldn’t feel guilt after everything I’ve endured to keep my son alive and my family safe. I shouldn’t have this gaping hole in my chest, and I certainly shouldn’t be longing for a man I have every reason to hate.

Lifting the frame, I use my sleeve to rub a smudge on the edge of the glass. I don’t recall this being here before. I always wipe the frames when I dust. Someone’s been here. Mrs. Aranda has a key. Sir-Pounce-A-Lot’s probably knocked the frame over and she’s put it back. That must be it.

I place the photo back into position and shrug off my jacket as I pad upstairs. My body breaks out in goose bumps. I’m being ridiculous. The doors are locked. The cat’s fine. It’s just been a long, emotional day.

Dropping on the bed, I sink into the mattress and text Elio.

How’s Mamma doing?

Much better. She perked up after seeing you.

Warmth spreads in my chest as I call my son.

“Hey, Mum.” Music plays in the background.

“Hi, how did today go?”

“Fine,” he shouts over the music.

“Where are you?”

“There’s a band playing in the main hall.” The music gets quieter and I hear a door close. “Is that better?”

“Are there chaperones?”

“Mum, I’m in school. You don’t need to worry.”

“I always worry. I think I’ll still worry about you when you’re fifty.” If I’m still alive by then.

“Mum, that’s so cringe.”

“Mums are meant to be cringe.” A smile pushes my cheeks up. “Tell me all about your football match.”

“I scored. We won 5–1.” His voice turns animated as he tells me all about the goals.

“I’m so proud of you.” My smile falters, wishing I were there to watch every game. “I’ll ask Helena if she videoed it.”

“How’s Nonna?”

“She’s getting better.” I hold the phone to my chest, silently praying that she will get better, but with COPD there’s no cure, just treatment to help improve her quality of life.

My bedroom door creaks and a draft filters in from the hallway. Rising from the bed, I pad into Angelos’ room. “I’m gonna go. It’s late. I’ll see you on Sunday after your friend’s party, okay? His mum, Helena, says she’ll drop you off in the afternoon.”

“All right, Mum. Love you.”

“Love you.” I turn on the light in Angelos’ bedroom. Football players stare at me from his bedroom wall. Nothing is out of place.

Everything looks normal. But it doesn’t feel normal. I walk back into my room. The cushions on the bed—only two propped. I always leave all three lined up. Always.

It’s small. Barely anything. Could be nothing. Could be me.

But it doesn't feel right. A shiver crawls down my spine. Nothing has felt right since I saw Dan on the plane. The turbulence from the flight is now in my head.

I walk to the dresser and check the drawer where I keep the spare keys. Still there. Nothing appears touched. I rub my arms and shake off the chill creeping over my skin. “I’m just tired,” I mutter. “It’s been a long day. I’ve seen ghosts. Now I’m making them up.”

Still, I double-check the lock on the window. Secure. Just like I left it.

I cross the room, undress and toe off my tights, and sink onto the bed. The duvet welcomes me, but my mind won’t switch off. It whirs with the image of that tilted photo, the sensor light delay, the shadow at the hedge, the cushions…

I need to relax.

I open the nightstand drawer and pull out the small velvet pouch. My secret weapon. Self-care in silicone form. The familiar weight in my hand already calms me. Not because I need a release, but because I need to feel something other than anxiety. I slip under the covers, let my mind drift somewhere else, somewhere safe. Somewhere mine. But the only thing that comes to mind… is him.

7

DAN

“To the bride and groom.” I raise my champagne flute and toast the happy couple, though happy is probably the wrong choice of words. I’ve never seen a woman look so miserable on her wedding day.

I check my watch, wondering how long I have to stay at this event. It’s been going on all fucking day.

Riccardo steps up to my side and hands me a grappa. “Thought you could use a strong drink.” He raises his glass and clinks it with the one he’s just given me.

The strong grape-based brandy catches in my nose before I take a gulp. The velvety texture burns as it hits the back of my throat, making my eyes widen.

“I made it myself.” Riccardo turns around, lifting a carafe and topping up our glasses.

“You mean your vineyard made it?” I raise an eyebrow, wondering if he actually meant himself or his staff.

He shrugs a shoulder. “Same thing.”

“How’s business going?” He knows I don’t mean the vineyard. It’s just a front for his money laundering. I usually turn a blind eye to it all and just gather the information he pays me for. Which is keeping tabs on his merchants in the UK. Again, I don't mean his wine merchants.

“All’s good, cugino. We can talk shop tomorrow. Tonight is about having a good time.” He takes another long pull from his glass.

“Right.” If this is what he calls a good time, he needs to get out more. I knock my drink back and hold it out for another. The burn lessened with each sip.

“You should take some of this back with you. Come to the vineyard before you go.”

“I’ll stop by and take some home with me tomorrow.”

His brow furrows. “You’re going home so soon? I thought you were here for a few weeks. Isn’t Matteo flying out to meet you?”

“I’ll be back for Matteo. Something came up back at home.” He doesn’t need to know the thing that came up is my obsession with a certain enemy’s sister.

“You never said what all that was about at the airport. Where’d you run off to?”

I give him a sideways glance. “Thought I saw a ghost.”

He quirks a brow. “Since when do ghosts wear heels?”

A smile curves my lips as I remember her strutting away.

Riccardo sneers as if he knows more than he’s letting on, swirling the grappa in his glass like he’s a fucking sommelier. “You had that look in your eye. The one that says I’m about to do something deeply stupid.”

I huff out a half laugh. “Appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“I’ve known you long enough, cugino. You only get that look when it’s about a woman… or a murder.”

“Sometimes both,” I say with a huff of a laugh.

Riccardo chuckles. “So, which was it this time?”

I tilt my glass in his direction. “Not a murder.”

“Ah.” His brows lift knowingly. “So it was a woman. Let me guess…” He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Dark hair. Big eyes. Trouble written all over her?”

I lift my grappa in a silent toast. He’s not wrong, even if her dark hair is bleached right now. “Let’s just say it’s unfinished business.”

He snorts. “You and your unfinished business. What’s the play here? Gonna follow her around Rome until she agrees to date you?”

I shrug. “It worked for you.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got charm. And dimples. And a vineyard.”

I roll my eyes. “Not to mention an ego the size of Sicily.”

“Grazie.” He takes another drink, then lifts his glass. “To unfinished business.”

I clink mine against his, the warmth of the grappa dulling everything except the image of her face, the sound of her laugh echoing somewhere deep in my memory.

“You know,” he says, pouring us another round like he’s trying to kill me, “you could’ve told me you were in love before you flew out. Whoever she is, she’s welcome here.”

“I’m not in love with her.”

He snorts. “No? So the whole disappearing act, and sulking at this wedding, is just you being your usual ray of fucking sunshine?”

“I’m not sulking.”

“You look like a widowed mob wife.”

I shake my head, laughing despite myself. “At least I’m dressed appropriately.”

Riccardo glances down at my black suit. “Yeah, you could crash a funeral or a gala. Or a murder scene.” He elbows me. “Now come on, cheer up. There’s free booze, a half-decent DJ, and a bridesmaid who keeps asking me if you’re single.”

“I’m not interested.”

“She’s blonde, leggy, and very flexible, according to the groom’s brother.”

I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me. “That’s exactly why I’m not interested. I’m not having sloppy seconds.”

Riccardo chuckles, then looks at me a beat longer. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

He studies me for a moment. “You’re not. But all right.”

Then his wife, in a glittery dress, hooks her finger at Riccardo from across the room.

He grins. “Duty calls.”

As he saunters off, I turn back to my drink. I lift the carafe only to drain the last drop, then knock back the last mouthful.

With the carafe run dry, that’s my cue to leave. I think I’ve shown my face enough. All I want to do is get back home, but more importantly, I want to get back on Rose’s flight and see her again. I want answers.

Placing the empty carafe on the table along with my glass, I weave through the crowd of familiar faces but whose names I don't recall, heading towards the exit.

With both my hands on the door, ready to make my escape, a deep voice with a cockney accent says, “Going so soon?”

Fuck. I was hoping to slip off quietly. “Just getting some fresh air.” I thought nobody would notice I’d gone.

He clicks his tongue and exhales a slow breath. “Shame to miss all the fun.” He follows me outside into the warm night air. “I was hoping to have a word.” The clicking of the tongue and the London accent sounds all too familiar.

I turn around to face him, his head hanging low under the veil of stars as he lights a cigarette. The porch is quiet, but voices flow on the breeze from the back of the veranda where guests have spilled out of the villa.

He lifts his head. A plume of smoke billows around him. “Want one?” He offers a cigarette.

“Don’t smoke.” Fuck, where’s my gum? I shove my hand in my pocket and grip the packet tight as the smoke clears.

Moonlight shines down on his features, highlighting a scar on his cheekbone. A scar I recognise. Even without it, Magnus Berlusconi is one ugly bastard. Now I know why his voice was familiar. Five years of obsessing over every move he made was bound to leave an impression, even if it was over eight years ago now.

Every muscle in my body tenses. I grind my back teeth together while trying my hardest to keep my mask in place. “What did you want a word about?” My voice is monotone, but I’m thinking of all the different ways I can kill this motherfucker.

He clicks his tongue and inhales another drag of his poison. I hope he chokes on it. “I heard you’re one of the best in the business.”

My spine bristles. As much as I’m intrigued by what he has to say, I need to get away from him before I do something I’ll regret, like rip his throat out. Not that I’ll regret it, but I don’t like shedding blood at family weddings. “I don’t talk shop at family events.” I turn and jog down the few steps of the porch.

He clicks his tongue behind me. “I’m looking for my wife.”

I freeze on the bottom step, my eyes closing for a moment as I think of Rosetta. My only comfort is knowing she’ll be back in the UK now, but if she’s making frequent visits to see her mother, it’s only a matter of time before he finds her.

I should have taken him up on his offer for a cigarette. Though now I need something stronger. No amount of gum can help me, but out of habit, I unwrap a piece in my pocket and pop it into my mouth as I turn back around to face my nemesis. “Who’s your wife?”

“Rosetta Berlusconi.” He spits over the porch balcony, then bares his rotten teeth, as if the mere mention of her name gives him a bitter taste. “Her brother is Elio Conti.” A grin spreads across his face. “Your enemy.”

I chew on the gum, trying my best to look uninterested. “Why don’t you just ask her brother where she is?”

“I did. He doesn’t know. I have a contact who backs up his words. Nobody’s seen or heard from her in years, but I know the mother’s hiding something. There’s no way she wouldn’t stay in touch with her mother.” He spits again, as if spitting out a piece of tobacco. “Fucking Conti cunts. The family think they run this city, but they’re not what they were when the father was alive.”

“So the brother is running the business now?” I know all this. It’s the only reason I visit. If Rosetta’s uncle were still alive, I’d be going home in a box.

“He couldn’t run a piss-up in a brewery, that one.” He inhales the last of his cigarette, burning it down to the butt, then flicks it onto the lawn.

It smoulders in the dry grass. I watch, mesmerised by it while wondering if I could strangle him now with my bare hands and let the fire take hold and burn the evidence. But this place is too nice to see it burn to a crisp, so I take the few steps over to the lawn and stomp out the cigarette before my imagination gets the better of me.

“You think you could find her?” He leans on the banister of the porch, looking down at me.

“I don’t take on domestic jobs. My schedule’s already full.” I turn around to walk to the guest house.

“No worries. I’ll find someone else.”

I pause on the path, gravel crunching under my shoes as I spin around. The last thing I want is someone else watching her. “Do you have any more information? Photographs, last known address?”

“Yeah, I have all that.” He straightens his spine, clinging to the railing. “You’ll look into it?”

I shouldn’t do this. The last thing I want is to do business with a man I despise more than anything in this world. But if I say no, someone else will take it—and they won’t stop at surveillance.

At least this way, I can stay one step ahead. I just need to buy some time while I figure out what to do with him.

Even if it means lying to her. Again.

I pull out a card with my email address printed on. “Send me what you have. I’ll email you back with a price. I take half the payment upfront to cover expenses and the rest on delivery of the information.”

He takes the business card from me. “Fine. I’ll have everything sent to you tomorrow.”

I nod and walk away, the weight of what I’ve just done settling in my gut like lead.

Fuck’s sake.

8

DAN

I’d booked myself on Rose’s next flight home, which is today, but she needs to stay away from the hospital in case Magnus has people watching. The only way I know to get a message to her is through her mother.

In the back of the taxi, my phone pings with a new email. I sip my morning coffee while I open the message from Magnus. My lips curl into a snarl as I scroll through the photographs he’s sent. Just knowing he has access to my flower’s pictures twists my insides. I want to carve out his eyeballs for even looking at her.

All the torment I felt when she married is back at the forefront of my mind, torturing me with images of them together like flashes on a movie reel, moving way too quick and sending my head into a spin.

Scrolling to the next image, my breath halts. Her smile is enough to stop any man in their tracks, but it’s the way her face is lit up as she plays with a small boy, not much older than four or five. Her son’s grin matches hers. The same wide, open expression I haven’t seen in over a decade. A flicker of pain stabs through my ribs. A bunch of what-ifs settle in my gut along with the realisation that they will never be.

Staring at that moment between her and her son softens something brutal inside me. I imagine a life with her and wonder if I could ever love a kid who’s not mine. He’s gotta be a teenager now. Probably a little shit if me and my brother at that age are anything to go by. I silently chuckle to myself, thinking of how Dom and I would always be in detention, for one thing or another.

The kid’s eyes are familiar, like looking at my little brother, and I realise it doesn’t matter who his father is, him and Rose are a package deal and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure they’re both safe and away from this motherfucker. There’s a reason she’s hiding her true identity and I’m gonna do my best to keep it that way.

As I push open the door to the hospital room, my shoulders relax at seeing her mother in the bed with an oxygen mask over her face.

Her hand pats the bed as if feeling for something.

“It’s me, Lucia. It’s D’Angelo. I’m not here to finish you off.” I give her my warmest smile, hoping to reassure her. “Yet.”

She pulls the mask down under her chin. “Two visits in one week. I’m honoured.” Her head tilts as if trying to look behind me. “Is Rose with you?”

I scan my surroundings and check for bugs. “Not today. Do you have a number I can contact her on?”

“No.” Her lip twitches, telling me she’s lying. And I’m not confident that the room isn’t bugged. It’s the first thing I’d do if I was looking for a relative.

I pull out my phone and type in my notes.

Rose’s husband is in Rome and he’s looking for her. I need you to tell her to stay away.

Lucia squints her eyes and pats the bed again.

I reach over and lift her glasses from the trolly next to her. “Here, put these on.” Enlarging the text on my phone, I hold it in front of her face and place my other finger in front of my lips, signalling for her to be quiet.

Her hand trembles as she slides her glasses behind her ears and her eyes widen as she reads the message on my phone. “La mia bella rosa.”

The heart rate monitor picks up speed. Lucia lifts her mask over her face, gasping for air. The machine beeps and a nurse rushes in.

“Bianchi?” A man shouts behind me.

I turn, but Elio fists my collar, pushing me back against the wall.

He snarls, muttering something in Italian.

I really should brush up on my languages.

He continues to mutter in Italian, “…figlio di puttana.”

I know that one as its particular favourite of mine. “Vaffanculo.”

“Portalo fuori,” a nurse shouts, which I believe is take it outside.

Lucia calls out, “Elio.”

Elio lets go of my shirt and steps back, puffing through his nostrils. “I’m here, Mamma.” He points to me and then at the door. “Get the fuck out.”

I bristle my spine and straighten my tie. “We need to talk.”

Lucia bats the nurses away. “Lasciami. I’m all right.” She coughs, then inhales more oxygen through her mask. “Get me out of this room. I need some air.” Lucia shuffles on the bed.

Elio points his finger in my face. “You come into my mother’s room, hurt her, and then want to talk?” He gets in my face and whispers, “I’ve maimed people for less.”

I roll my eyes and bat his finger away. “Hurting women runs in your family, Elio, not mine.” I narrow my eyes at him.

“I know you were here before. You sniffing round my sister again?”

“Leave him, Elio.” Lucia holds the oxygen mask under her chin as she settles into the wheelchair. “Take me outside. I need to get out of this room.”

A nurse speaks to her in Italian and places a blanket over her legs.

“Yes, Mamma.” Elio pushes her through the door and Lucia turns to me. “You coming?”

I stride out of the room, staying a few steps behind as I follow Elio into the hospital gardens. The afternoon sun shines on my face, but does nothing to lift my mood. This trip was meant to be a simple business trip that coincided with a family wedding. Enjoy a bit of downtime at Riccardo’s vineyard before catching up with my other cousin, Matteo. But now it’s turned into a fucking nightmare.

Shoving my hand into my pocket, I pop a piece of gum from the packet, and bring it to my mouth. The strawberry flavour bursts on my tongue as I chew, though nothing can satiate this unease in my stomach.

If the impending flight wasn’t bad enough, I’ve now got to deal with Rosetta and her family and her fucking husband.

Elio stops at a bench in the middle of the healing gardens, surrounded by a variety of plants and shrubs. He rests against the stone wall of a large fountain. “What do you want, Bianchi? You have about five minutes before you’ll be needing a hospital bed of your own.”

A chuckle escapes. “You’re funny.”

He crosses his arms over his broad chest. “I never knew you had a sense of humour.”

“Oh, Elio. There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” I match his stance and fold my arms across my chest.

“Have you boys done with the pissing contest?” Lucia coughs, sounding worse than she did a few days ago. She waves her hand between us. “Tell him what you told me, D’Angelo.”

I spin around, doing a full sweep of our surroundings before I speak. “I need to get in touch with Rose.”

“Yeah, you and everyone else. I checked the hospital footage. I know you were here the other day.” Elio stands up straight and pushes his hands into his trouser pockets. “You followed her here. Get in touch with her yourself.”

“I followed her here from the flight. I don’t have her number, but I know she’s coming here today and, as you know, I’m not the only one looking for her.”

“Is it true, Elio?” Lucia stares up at him, the oxygen mask in her hand. “Is Magnus in Rome?”

Elio drops his head. “He’s out for blood. He thinks she set him up and put him in prison.”

Lucia coughs and holds the oxygen mask over her face.

Elio rests his hand on his mother’s shoulder.

I scratch the bristles on my jaw. “You need to tell Rose to stay away and keep her distance.”

“What do you care?” Elio snarls.

I shouldn’t care. I don’t know why I’ve let myself get caught up in this. It’s been fucking years and yet that woman still haunts me. I shrug my shoulder. “I don’t care. Just can’t fucking stand Magnus.” The truth is, I never stopped being caught up in this. Caught up in her.

Lucia pulls her mask away from her face and croaks, “Liar.”

What does the old dear know about it? I lift my wrist and check the time on my watch. Her plane lands right about now. “We’re wasting fucking time here. If you won’t call her, I’ll go to the airport and tell her myself.”

“You think you can protect her?” Elio asks.

“I protect what’s mine.” I roll the gum around my tongue, thinking about Rose. She is mine even if I hate her. She may have married someone else, but she gave herself to me first. I have a piece of her I’ll never give up.

Elio huffs. “Your father couldn’t protect your mother.”

I stride over to him and grip his lapel, baring my teeth. “You leave my mother out of this.”

Lucia makes the sign of the cross. “God rest her soul.”

I tilt my head, my eyebrows pinch, wondering what Lucia knows about my mother. She never knew her. I don’t think my mother ever left England.

Lucia coughs up another lung. “If anyone can protect her, Elio…” She wheezes. “It’s him.”

“What makes you think you can protect my sister better than me?” Spittle flies from his mouth.

Because I love her. I loathe her. She’s under my skin. If anyone’s going to hunt her down, it’s me. “Because your home is the first place anyone will look.” I release his jacket and put some distance between us. As much as I hate the Conti family, Elio is nothing like his father or his uncle.

I check the time again. “You have about an hour before she gets here, damn it. The room could be bugged. There could be eyes located here.”

“If there are, they’ve seen you here.”

“Nobody knows me.” Though it seems I’m more popular than I thought.

“I recognised you,” Elio says.

“What do you want, a medal?” I rub my forehead. “Don’t worry about me. Just call her.”

He looks down at his mother. “You trust a Bianchi?”

Lucia nods, taking a deep inhale of her oxygen.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and hits the call button.

Rose’s faint voice comes through the handset. Water cascades from the fountain as if washing away all my anxiety at the sound of her voice.

“Hello.”

9

ROSE

Gripping the handle of my crew case, I make my way to passport control. “I told you before. I’m done letting Magnus control my life. He won’t stop me from seeing my mother.”

“Just give me some time. Meanwhile, Mamma’s instructed D’Angelo to take care of you while you’re in the UK.” Elio sighs through the handset.

I stop in my tracks. “Are you fucking kidding me?” My stomach twists into a tight knot.

D’Angelo’s voice filters through the handset, deep and maddening. “Damn it, woman. Just lie low for a while.”

I tap my manicured nails against the top of my case as I join the line at passport control. “Fine, but I don’t need a babysitter.”

Dan sniggers.

I picture his smug face on the other end of the call. “How are you and my brother even in the same room without attempting to kill each other?”

“He tried.” Dan huffs down the handset. “Where are you?”

I roll my eyes. “Living it up in Bora Bora. Where do you think I am?”

“You’re still at the airport?” He exhales as if I just saved his life. “Stay there. I’ll meet you in the business class departure lounge.”

“I have four hours before I’m back at work. You want me to sit in the departure lounge for four hours?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there to keep you company.” Now the bastard is smiling.

I can tell by the way he speaks. “Put my brother back on, please.”

“Yeah?” Elio says.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Don’t blame me. This was all Mamma’s idea.”

“Put her on.”

“I’m not feeling too good. Take me back to my room, Elio.” Mamma coughs down the phone. “Ti amo, mia bella rosa.”

“Love you, Mamma.” The line goes dead. I shove the phone into my bag and exhale hard through my nose.

Four hours. I make my way to the departure lounge. May as well get a decent breakfast if I’m going to be stuck babysat by a Bianchi.

A shadow covers my plate. I look up, mid-bite, a mouthful of tomato bursting on my tongue, juice trailing down my chin.

“Hello, Grace.” Dan slides into the seat opposite, grinning like he’s just won a bet. Bastard.

I wipe my chin with a napkin, rolling the food around my tongue before swallowing. “Fancy seeing you here.”

The waitress smiles with her notepad and pen in hand. “Can I get you anything, sir?”

“I’ll have what she’s having. Full English brunch is it?” His grin widens. “And a black coffee, please.”

“Yes, sir.” She nods at me and walks towards the bar.

Dan steals a slice of bacon from my plate. “I’m famished.” He brings it to his mouth and bites into it, chewing slowly as if savouring the saltiness.

I hate that I’m watching him and screw my face in disgust, but it’s myself I’m annoyed with the most. I hate that I still find this man attractive. He’s exactly as I remember—perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect teeth with the kind of smile that once made me feel like I was the only girl in the world. Meanwhile, I’m spending a third of my wage on every beauty product available in the duty-free.

He swallows the bacon, still grinning. A few lines around his eyes are the only telltale signs that he’s aged at all. “Your mother and brother send their love.”

“This was all your idea, wasn’t it?” I glare at him as I tear the sausage from my fork, then point the metal prongs at his shit-eating grin. “There’s a reason I moved to the UK.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“So I don’t have to take orders from my family or anyone else. And I certainly won’t be taking orders from you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that, little bird.”

My brows pinch. “What is it with you and nicknames?”

He holds his hands up with a laugh, his nose scrunching in a way that makes me want to bust it. “Hey, you chose the name. I’d have gone with something more fierce myself. Maybe something sexy.”

“What like Pussy Galore?”

He leans back in his chair, exhaling a soft laugh, the kind that used to make my stomach flip. Now it just makes me nauseous. “Nah, spina velenosa suits you better.”

“Is that how you think of me, as a poisonous thorn?” I lift my glass of water and take a sip, swallowing the acid at the back of my throat.

He scratches his short beard, his gaze flicking to my lips. “Maybe, depends if you plan on sticking me again.”

I tilt my head, matching his smirk. “Careful Dan, I’m not a silly girl you can manipulate anymore. My thorns protect what’s mine and I’ll stick anyone who threatens my family.”

A server approaches the table. “Black coffee, sir. Your brunch will be out shortly.”

“Thank you.” He winks at the girl, making her cheeks blush.

She reminds me of me when I was eighteen, a chubby girl fawning over the first man to show her any attention. Pathetic.

He brings the mug to his lips and blows on the hot drink. “You mean you’ll do anything to protect your son?”

I swallow the thick air. It’s the first time he’s mentioned my son. “How do you know about him?”

He takes a sip from the mug, licks his top lip, then sets the mug back on the table. “I know everything there is to know about you, little bird.”

The knot in my stomach tightens. It’s as if he keeps calling me that to provoke me. He doesn’t know everything. Some things I’ll take to my grave.

I set my fork down and push my plate to the side. “Then you’ll know that I’ll do anything to protect him. And that includes keeping him away from people like you.”

His smile fades, a flicker of hurt passing over his features before he schools it back to arrogance. “I’m here to keep you safe.” He clears his throat. “You and your son.”

“You needn’t bother. I can take care of myself. I’ve managed this far.”

His fist clenches around the napkin on the table. “Things are different now.”

“Why? Because my husband is out of prison?”

He snarls at the word husband. “Ex.” His jaw clenches. The mention of Magnus seems to affect him as much as it does me.

“Not in the eyes of the law.” My chair scrapes along the wooden floor as I rise. “He’s not the only psychopath I’ve dealt with.” I turn to walk away, but Dan reaches for my arm, his fingers curling around my wrist.

Heat licks up my spine, frustration and something dangerously close to anticipation mixing in my blood. He’s too close, too calm, way too smug, sitting there as if he owns me. As if I’m the same naïve girl I was years ago who he could manipulate and bend to his will.

What were my mother and brother thinking? He was on my family’s most wanted hit list after what he did.

His eyes darken, his smirk turning deadly. “You need me, fiore mio.”

I lean down, my voice dropping just for him, and I whisper in his ear. “I stopped needing you a long time ago. And I’m not your flower. I’m a poisonous thorn, remember?”

His smile falters for a moment, like a crack in his confidence. Good. I want him to feel my words slice through his chest. I want him to hurt as much as he hurt me.

His touch sears into my skin, setting my blood to boiling point. His penetrating steely gaze locks onto mine. “We’ll see about that.”

I exhale sharply, snatching the handle of my crew case and yanking my wrist from his grip. “I have a shift to get to. Help yourself to the rest of my brunch. I’ve lost my appetite.”

He shouts after me, “Your shift doesn’t start for another two hours.”

“I’d sooner sit in the staff room than spend another minute with you.” Adrenaline is the only thing keeping me upright as my legs weaken, but I feign confidence and strut out of the departure lounge. The ghost of his hand still burns my wrist, my entire body on fire as I walk away, not daring to look back.

Once out of his sight, I’m able to breathe a little easier. After all these years, this man still has an effect on me. I can’t let myself fall under his spell again. My shell’s hardened, but underneath I still melt for him. A tear pools in the corner of my eye and I dab it away, annoyed with myself for letting him get to me. It’s as if the last thirteen years never happened and all my emotions as a young, betrayed, abandoned eighteen-year-old are as raw as they were then.

I hate him.

I hate him.

I hate him.

Keep telling yourself that, Rose, and maybe one day it will stick.

10

DAN

Isqueeze the handle of my holdall, taking a step over the threshold of the plane.

Rose narrows her eyes. “Boarding ticket, sir.”

I hold the ticket in front of her face and curl my lip in the corner. I’m under her skin. This isn’t the warm welcome I had on the flight here. People show their true colours eventually and it’s clear that her friendliness on the way here was all a façade. She was just doing her job.

We stare off for a beat too long until her colleague says, “Business class is to the front of the plane, sir.”

“Thank you.” I nod and walk down the aisle into business class, my stomach churning with the brunch I’ve just eaten. Moisture gathers on my top lip as I lift my holdall into the overhead locker.

I settle into my seat, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension clawing up my spine. The plane hums beneath me, the cabin fills with the quiet murmur of passengers, and I run a hand over my face before pulling out my phone and texting my brother.

On the plane. Did you find a spare key?

He replies instantly.

Yeah, made a copy. It’s in the house.

Good. I won’t be coming home. Working surveillance. Can you meet me?

Sure. Let me know when and where.

I tap my fingers against my knee. My shirt clings to the damp skin of my back. I should’ve got the train and taken the Eurotunnel or the ferry. Anything is better than this. My eyes flick to Rose, directing passengers to their seats. Her presence is a comfort and a welcome distraction, reminding me why I’m here.

I’m gonna need some fresh clothes too.

Why? You shit yourself on takeoff? (Laughing emoji)

I exhale through my nose.

You’re a funny fucker, aren’t you?

Try not to white-knuckle the armrest.

I let go of the armrest with a shake of my head and text back.

Piss off. I still have that picture of you tied up, remember?

And I told you, share that picture with anyone and I’ll break your nose, but you couldn’t help yourself. Could you?

My shoulders shake with a silent laugh, remembering Dom squirming on the kitchen floor after Poppy tied him to a chair.

Deep breaths, brother. You’ll be back on solid ground soon.

The seatbelt sign lights up in front of me. I flex my hand, clenching and opening my fist, while I take in deep breaths.

What’s the job?

I look over the seat in front of me where Rose is manoeuvring through the cabin, her posture stiff, her attention anywhere but me.

Complicated

Aren’t they all?

I turn my phone to airplane mode before slipping it back into my pocket. With a deep intake of breath, I buckle my seatbelt and lean back in the seat and close my eyes. Takeoff and landing are the worst. I never processed my trauma from the army. But since the helicopter crash, I’ve fucking hated flying and avoid it all costs.

A hand rests on my shoulder. I open my eyes to the other flight attendant, Lisa Adams. “Don’t worry, sir. Only two hours and thirty minutes until we’re back in the UK. Can I get you anything?”

“I need Grace. Can you get me Grace?”

Her mouth parts, she glances to the curtain behind me, separating us from economy. “She’s busy, sir. She asked me to check on you instead.”

“She did?” My stomach does a somersault. She cares. “I’ll be fine. Just gotta get through takeoff.”

“I hate to see you like this, sir. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll just be at the front.”

I nod as she smiles and walks away.

A minute later, Rose walks down the aisle. Her colleague whispers to her, but loud enough for me to hear. “Mr. Inferno is asking for you.”

Rose glances over in my direction. “Mr. Inferno will have to wait. We’re about to take off.”

My lips quirk at the nickname and I grab Rose’s hand as she passes me, stopping her in her tracks. “Mr. Inferno, huh?”

She furrows her brow as she tries to escape without making a scene. “Well, you are burning up.”

I hold her hand in mine as I let out a long sigh, as if having her close brings me some relief.

“Sir, I have to get to my seat. The plane’s about to take off.” Her eyes soften as she takes in the sweat on my brow. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

I bring her hand to rest over my heart, and the thumping against my ribs slows a little. It’s easier to breathe with her here. “Is it?” Nothing will be okay until this woman submits to me.

She leans down and whispers, “I told you before, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I tighten my grip around her hand. “And I told you, you’re mine.”

She leans down and whispers. “The only man I belong to is my son. Everyone else can go fuck themselves.” Her eyes narrow as she snatches her hand away and walks to the front of the cabin. This woman blows hot and cold. Just as I think I’m breaking through her walls, she builds another shield of armour.

Within minutes, the plane’s barrelling down the runway, the engines roaring under the wing. My fingers curl around the armrest and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to think of anything to take me away from here, and like muscle memory, my mind pulls me to where it all began—Villa Borghese.

It’s as if it were yesterday. I can still smell the fresh cut grass as Dom paces between two Italian stone pine trees, his tattooed fingers scratching the rough hairs on his jaw. “Why are we wasting time here?”

I rest my head back against a tree and lower my newspaper. The sun’s rays warm my face and I welcome the small breeze coming from the direction of the lake. “I told you already. I’m waiting for the daughter. She comes here every lunchtime to read.”

Dom squints under the sunlight and whisper-yells, “Is this where you’ve been every day? Scoping out some pussy when we should be concentrating on the mission?”

“Keep your voice down.” I roll the newspaper in my hand and crunch it in my fist as I push off the tree, but she catches my eye and I freeze before I clock my brother round the head with the roll of newspaper. “She’s here.”

His gaze follows the direction of mine and a smirk forms on his face.

Now I whack him on the back of the head with the rolled paper. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I was expecting⁠—”

“What?” I clench my back teeth. I know what he was expecting. He thought I was out here trying to get my dick wet with a hot woman, not a chubby girl barely eighteen. “Now do you believe she’s just part of the mission?”

He scratches his jaw again, eyes narrowing at me, then back to the Conti girl. “I mean, she’s not your usual type, but she’s not ugly.”

I shove the newspaper into his arms. “Your job is to keep tabs on the target. Leave the girl to me. I’ll get us the intel we need to make this mission go smoothly. The more we keep this on the down-low, the better.”

“What makes you think you’re the right man for the job? A little old for her, don’t you think?” Dom’s smirk is back, as if he knows I have a slight fondness for the lass. “I’m closer to her in age and we both know I’m the better-looking one.”

A laugh bursts from my lips. “Ah, baby brother, you might have the dimples, but I have the experience.” I pat his shoulder and give him a wink.

Dom rolls his eyes. “If by experience you mean a collection of broken hearts⁠—”

“It’s called strategy.” I look past him, tracking the girl as she weaves her way through the tourists, a tattered book clutched to her chest as if it holds all her secrets.

She settles on her usual bench under the canopy of trees, backlit by the golden sun and framed like something out of a painting. Her bag rests on the bench at her side as she opens the book on her lap, chewing the corner of her thumbnail as her eyes flick across the page. She does that when she’s thinking. I’ve watched her long enough to know.

“She looks like a schoolgirl,” Dom mutters. “Are you sure she’s eighteen?”

“Birthday was last month. I checked.”

“This is fucked.”

I ignore him. I’m only befriending the lass. It’s not like I’m going to fuck a baby into her. “Did you set it up?”

He sighs and pulls a pair of sunglasses from his pocket, sliding them on. “Yeah. The guy’s loitering near the gelato cart. I paid him extra not to be too rough.”

I nod. “Good. If he lays a finger on her, I’ll slit his throat.”

“All right, Zorro, don’t forget your mask.” He chuckles as he pats my shoulder. “You sure you wanna go through with this?”

My eyes stay locked on her, ignoring my brother’s jokes. “She’s a Conti. We need a way in.”

“And if you catch feelings?”

I flick a glance at him. “Since when have I ever caught feelings?”

He snorts. “True.” Dom hands me back the newspaper. “You didn’t think to dress more casual?”

I glance down at my cream chinos and white shirt.

“I wanted to look smart for her. I need to make a good impression.”

Dom snorts. “What is this, a job interview? You look like her private tutor.”

“Better than looking like a yob. She’s used to men in suits. This’ll feel familiar—less like some random tourist in cargo shorts trying to chat her up.”

Dom shrugs as he glances down at his camouflage pattern combats and a white t-shirt that looks like it needs a good wash. “Point taken. Let’s get this show on the road.” He walks away, lighting a cigarette as he heads towards the guy he hired to steal her purse.

I roll the cuffs of my shirt up to the elbow, trying to look more casual as I step out from behind the tree, and make my way down the gravel path as if out taking a stroll. The warm breeze carries her floral perfume and for a second, I feel it settle in my lungs like smoke. Dangerous. Addictive.

Any second now.

I scan for the guy, see him move. He heads straight for her, all fake swagger and a canvas satchel slung across his shoulder. I clock his hand as he reaches towards her bag. He’s too fast. She startles, clutching the book to her chest as he snatches her belongings and bolts.

She calls out, “Ehi! Quella è la mia borsa!” She stands, frozen, like she’s not sure what to do.

I move fast, but not too fast, jogging past a group of tourists and giving chase like a man with a moral compass. I don’t have one, but she doesn’t need to know that. Not yet.

He cuts left. I follow. He tosses the bag into the bushes like we planned and keeps running. I stop, scoop it up, and make my way back to the bench like I’m the hero.

She’s still standing, wide-eyed and clutching her book, chest rising and falling as if she’s run the length of the Roman Forum.

Her wide eyes meet mine for the first time. Not just from across a park. Not through binoculars. Not as part of the job. This time, it’s real. And it hits me like a bullet. She searches my face as I approach, bag in hand. Bright blue innocent eyes stare into mine, uncertain but trusting, and my heart stutters quietly, but irrevocably.

From this moment on, all I want to do is take care of this girl. Steal her away from her corrupt family and shield her from the horrors of this world.

I keep my pace steady, masking the sudden twist in my gut. “Yours, I believe.” I hold it out, my voice smooth and measured.

She blinks, then glances at the bag like it might disappear if she touches it. “Come hai⁠—?”

I offer a soft smile, the kind I know disarms. “I must’ve spooked him. He practically threw the bag at me.”

She takes it from me with both hands, fingers brushing mine for a second too long. Her touch is soft. Warmer than I expected. “Grazie,” she says, breathless.

“No need to thank me. Just glad I was nearby.” I’ve been nearby for weeks. Watching. Waiting. Planning.

She brushes the hair from her face, cheeks pinkening, eyes darting to her book still clutched to her chest. “Non sapevo cosa fare.”

I chew on the inside of my mouth, trying to figure out the words. My Italian is a little rusty.

She must sense my confusion. “Scusa. I didn’t know what to do.” She says the words slowly, as if trying to remember her English, but she speaks it fluently. “It all happened so fast. I’m not good at running.”

“Yeah, well. You shouldn’t have to know what to do.” I glance around, scanning the area even though I know we’re clear. “People like that prey on soft targets.”

She frowns. “Soft?”

Shit. Wrong word.

“I mean…” I shrug, slipping my hands into my pockets to keep them from clenching. “You’re young. Alone. You don’t exactly look like you’d punch a guy in the throat.”

Her lips twitch. “You don’t know me.”

“No. I don’t.” I let the words settle, let her fill the space between us. Her shy smile filters its way into my chest and that’s when I feel the first crack.

“You’re British,” she says, like it explains something she’s been trying to figure out.

I raise a brow. “And you’re observant.”

Her cheeks colour as she looks down, but she’s still smiling.

“Rome’s not used to angels with English accents,” she murmurs under her breath, maybe not even meaning for me to hear it.

But I do. And I can’t contain my smile.

“I’m Rose,” she says, glancing up through thick lashes, her wide smile matching my own. “Rosetta, really. But everyone calls me Rose.”

Of course they do. Dolce Rosa. Like a beautiful flower in full bloom and ready to be plucked.

“Dan.” I don’t offer my last name. She doesn’t ask. Her innocence is the kind that doesn’t even question. And it makes something raw stir inside me. Protectiveness, maybe. Or guilt. Or both.

She lifts her bag and lets it drop to the bench beside her, but she keeps hold of the handle. “Do you… do you want to sit?”

It’s working. The plan. The setup. The story I told Dom about staying detached—not so much.

I nod to the gelato cart. “Want an ice cream?”

Her smile is brighter than the sun gleaming down on us, or maybe it just feels that way as we walk the few steps to the cart.

I pull out my wallet, but she reaches into her bag. “Let me, signore.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She bats my hand away and speaks in Italian to the vendor and hands him money before I protest.

I lean back on the railing next to the cart and watch her lift the cone from the rack and lick at the pink strawberry gelato.

She lifts another cone and thanks the vendor before handing it to me. “Strawberry for me and Pistachio for you.”

“You didn’t have to get me one.” I take the cone from her as green gelato drips onto my hand. “You picked for me?”

“It’s the least I can do after you saved my bag. And you just look like a pistachio guy.” She licks a drip from the side of her pink scoop as we both absentmindedly walk along the path that leads to the rose garden.

“Oh, really?” I chuckle as I lick the rich nutty flavour which is actually one of my favourites. I’m impressed. “What is a pistachio guy?”

She tilts her head sideways, studying me with a smile. “Mysterious. Complicated⁠—”

I quirk a grin. “Nutty.”

She giggles. “I was going to say kind.”

I go still, her words lodging in my chest.

She shouldn’t be so open. So trusting. So easy to like.

So fucking easy to hurt.

Her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink, matching the roses behind her.

“And what does strawberry say about you?” I already know the answer. She’s sweet like sugar and all things nice.

She bites the top of her cone and smiles through it. “I’m a hopeless romantic.”

“Is that what you’re reading?” I nod to the book in her hand. “Romance?”

She holds the tattered book down so I can read the title. Romeo and Juliet.

The irony.

I raise a brow. “Bit dramatic, no?”

She shrugs, not looking up. “So is life.”

I lick my ice cream and lean in to whisper, “Spoiler alert. They both die.”

“I know how it ends.” She jabs me in the ribs with her elbow. “Still worth reading.”

“You think falling for someone you’re supposed to hate is romantic?”

She looks up with sparkling eyes. “Don’t you?”

My smile falters. I hold her gaze for a beat too long. Falling for someone you’re supposed to hate is reckless, but as I gaze into her blue irises, I can see myself falling hard, diving headfirst into the deep pools of her eyes and never wanting to come up for air.

“Maybe that’s the only love that means anything. When you choose it anyway.” Her words settle between us, heavy and soft all at once. She looks down at the book and continues to lick at her gelato as if she didn’t just knock the wind out of me.

I just watch her, mesmerised by this strawberry-eating, Shakespeare-reading girl who’s dangerously close to getting under my skin.

We sit on the low wall facing the lake, knees brushing now and then. She’s already halfway through her strawberry cone, licking delicately around the edge like it’s some kind of art form. I’m holding my pistachio.

“Not a fan?” she asks, nodding at my gelato.

I shrug, smirking. “I like to take my time.”

“You’ve barely touched it.”

“I’m pacing myself.”

She narrows her eyes, playful. “You’re scared.”

I lift a brow. “Of what? Nuts?”

“No. Of admitting I got your flavour right.”

I huff out a laugh and take another lick. It’s cold and creamy, rich with that subtle nuttiness that sneaks up on you.

She watches me like it’s some kind of test. Her grin is smug. “Told you. You’re totally a pistachio guy.”

“Better than strawberry. All sugar, no bite.” But I’m already addicted to the way she licks the cone.

She squints at me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m teasing or insulting her. “You’re just jealous I taste better.”

I blink, my mind picturing way too many things it shouldn’t.

Her mouth forms an O, gelato covering her lips, and I want to know if she tastes just as sweet. “I meant—my gelato tastes better. Obviously.”

I grin. “A rose by any other name would taste as sweet.”

She laughs, full and bright, nudging her shoulder into mine. “It’s smell as sweet.”

“I know what it is.”

“You studied Shakespeare?” She licks her cone again, slower this time—maybe intentionally, maybe not. Either way, I feel it low and dangerous in my gut.

“I’ve read a little.” I gaze into her eyes and remember the famous lines from the book.

“Tell me something else. Something real,” she says after a pause. “Not gelato or Shakespeare related.”

I glance down at my cone, then at her. “Okay. Real? You should be more careful out here.”

She blinks, surprised by the shift in tone. “Why?”

“Because you trust too easily.” I keep my gaze on hers. “And not everyone’s here to return your bag.”

Her smile fades just slightly. She shifts under my stare.

“But you are,” she says, fiddling with the handle wrapped around her elbow.

I look up at the sky, licking the edge of my gelato before it drips. “Yeah. I am.”

For now.

A plane flies above us in the cloudless sky and I watch as it leaves a trail behind.

Rose kicks her legs against the wall, her cotton dress rippling in the light breeze. “I’ve always wanted to fly.”

Back in the present, I open my eyes to the clouds floating below. The plane levels out and so does my breathing. I relax my hands against the armrest and search the aisle for Rose.

My shoulders drop when I see her busying herself, serving passengers at the front of the plane. She’s more sure of herself than she was back then, more assertive and hardened by this cruel world. She was always soft petals wrapped in poison. Beautiful. Untouchable. Dangerous.

And I was stupid enough to think I could touch her and not bleed.

She was an easy target back then. It didn’t take much to befriend her. I was a knight in shining armour, like in one of her romance novels. She fell for it too. We spent the rest of the day together.

It became a regular meeting spot. We’d walk through the park, boat on the lake, and tour the gallery. She was part of a mission, but I fell hard, prolonging our task of gathering the intel Dom and I needed to finish the job.

Revenge had plagued us both since we were kids. We were never gonna rest until we had our vengeance. But spending time with our enemy softened my hardened heart. She found her way through the cracks and she’s been there ever since.

I recite her favourite book, Romeo and Juliet.

My only love sprung from my only hate.

It’s her. It’s always been her.

11

ROSE

Iexit the terminal and open my umbrella. Typical British weather, even at the height of summer. Rain patters against the fabric and runs off, hitting my crew case.

A car pulls up at the side of the curb, then the passenger door opens.

Dan leans over the centre console and shouts, “Get in!”

I ignore him and continue to walk towards the taxi stand.

He rolls along the edge of the curb with the door open. “Get the fuck in the car, Rose.”

“I’ll take my chances with a taxi, thanks.” I fake smile and strut down the path, my heels splashing in the puddles. My heart accelerates. After two and a half hours in close proximity with this man, I need some space. I need to breathe and I need to get the hell away from him before I do something I regret, like climb into his car and fuck him senseless.

“Don’t make me bend you over my knee.”

I can’t help smiling at that statement. This angry side of D’Angelo is all new to me, and I kind of enjoy winding him up. The man I knew before played by the book. He was the perfect gentleman, as if he’d read a manual or one of my romance novels. Back then, Mamma picked out my reading material, but now, my romance books are much spicier.

I bend down to the open door. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” His dark eyes stare into mine, daring and dangerous. Part of me wants to take this further and see how far I can push him, but when I see an empty taxi stand, the idea of letting him take me home seems more appealing.

“Stuff it.” I open the back door and slide my case onto the back seat, then drop into the passenger seat and collapse my umbrella, giving it a shake outside before placing it in the footwell of his silver Audi.

As soon as I close the door and buckle up, he’s speeding off onto the main road. The only sound is the wipers squeaking against the window as they swish side to side. His tattooed hand rests on the gear stick, brushing against my thigh each time he shifts gears.

I gulp and untie the scarf at my neck, needing to breathe easier. My skin itches. “Do you have the heater on? I’m burning up.”

“I have that effect on people.” His grin widens. “Mr. Inferno at your service.”

I deadpan. “Seriously?”

He leans over and squeezes my thigh, his hand warm where my skirt’s ridden slightly above my knee. “Relax. It’s just me.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. I don’t trust you.” I don’t trust myself around you.

He curls his fingers inside my thigh, slipping under the fabric of my dusky pink skirt. “I’d never hurt you.”

You already did. You hurt me more than any man’s ever hurt me. I don’t have physical scars, but the pain is still there, like a dull ache that never goes away. I want to tell him, scream it rather. But I stay silent, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much I cared.

He slides his hand farther up my skirt, and I stop him from reaching my knickers.

I flash my eyes towards his in a warning.

We slow down at the traffic lights. He gives me that gorgeous smile as his fingers play with the lace at the top of my stocking and the clip and strap that attaches it to my garter belt.

Heat pools in my centre. His calloused fingers against my flesh have my centre tingling. “That’s enough. This is just a ride home. Don’t get any ideas.”

He reaches over, his face inches from mine. “That was before I knew what you were hiding under this uniform.” Staring into my eyes, he waits for my next move.

My hand holds his inches from my aching centre, my vagina willing me to slide his hand higher, my head screaming to get him off of me, but it’s my heart caught in the middle—the broken pieces aching for him to fix them and give back the parts he took a long time ago.

A car horn blares behind us, cutting through the tension. I squeeze his hand and remove it from my side of the car. “I said no.”

His jaw ticks, but he nods. He places both hands on the wheel and drives. The silence that follows is heavy, but not uncomfortable. The heat between us lingers, curling in the space between our bodies.

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

“I have that effect on people.” A small giggle bursts from my lips.

He laughs along with me, the way his nose scrunches reminds me of the man I knew. “You have no fucking idea.”

I smirk, tilting my head, allowing my gaze to drift south. “Oh, I have an idea. Pretty sure your zipper’s feeling it right now.”

Dan groans, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles are white. “Fuck’s sake, Rose.”

I bite my lip, feigning innocence. “What? Not my fault you have no self-control.” My stomach ties itself into another knot as I take in the tent in his trousers. Gosh, I remember what his magical dick felt like. My body remembers too as my walls clench, aching for the way he filled me.

His fingers flex on the steering wheel. “You keep running that mouth, and I’ll show you exactly how much control I have.”

A huff of laughter leaves my lungs. “Big words. But last time I checked, you were the one getting all hot and bothered over a little lace.”

He side-eyes me, his smile dark and daring. “You call that little? There’s nothing little about the lace around your thick thigh.”

“Is that meant to be an insult?” I press my lips together and shuffle in my seat.

“What? Fuck no.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second and he relaxes when he sees the smirk on my face and knows I’m teasing. It’s clear that the size of my thigh turns him on.

It’s true what people say. You never forget your first. I just wish the memory of his betrayal didn’t hurt so much. It’s tainted everything. All the good times we shared are now tainted with lies. I’ve only ever experienced two men in my life. One hurt me emotionally, the other physically, both shaping the woman I’ve become.

I stare out the window so I don’t have to look at Dan. The rain slides down the windowpane, mirroring how I feel on the inside, but I’ve shed too many tears over men for one lifetime. I vowed I’d never let another man close again.

Lights from the city shine through the darkness. It’s always a welcoming sign of coming home.

“Do you know where I live?” I turn back to Dan, wondering where he’s taking me. I had just assumed he was taking me home after his statement of I know everything there is to know about you.

“Yeah. Or I can take you to my place if you like. You might be safer there.”

“I’d like you to take me home, please.” I study him as he drives, looking relaxed, but there’s a tick in his jaw. “So how did you find me?”

He tilts his head to the side and give me a grin. “If I told you my secrets, I’d have to kill you.”

I roll my eyes. “How original.”

Silence stretches between us, thick with words unsaid. The only sound is the rhythmic swipe of the wipers, the low hum of the engine, and my pulse pounding in my ears.

His hand tightens on the gear stick, just inches from my thigh, like he’s resisting the urge to touch me again. Like he’s fighting the same battle I am.

I shift in my seat, pressing my knees together, willing the ache between my thighs to disappear. But Dan isn’t stupid. He notices everything.

“You keep squirming like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you’re as worked up as I am,” he murmurs.

I whip my head towards him. “I’m not.”

His smirk deepens, eyes flicking down to my lips before dragging back up. “Liar.”

I swallow hard. “You’re delusional as well as arrogant.”

He exhales a quiet laugh, but there’s no humour in it. Just heat and frustration. “Maybe.”

Another silence. The moment too charged to be ignored.

I turn away, focusing on the window as the city lights flicker through the rain. “This isn’t happening, Dan.”

The leather of his seat creaks as he shuffles beside me. “I know.”

But deep down neither of us believe it.

Not for a second.

Dan pulls up outside my building and kills the engine. Neither of us moves.

The rain drums against the windscreen, a steady rhythm that matches the pounding in my chest. I reach for the door handle, needing to put space between us before I do something reckless, but his voice stops me.

“You gonna invite me in?”

My breath catches. He’s not demanding. Not pushing. Just waiting.

I turn my head slowly, finding him already watching me, his elbow resting on the steering wheel, fingers absently tapping against the dash. He looks relaxed. Too relaxed. Like he’s perfectly fine with whatever I decide. But his eyes burn with all the heat of an inferno.

I wet my lips. “Why would I?”

His gaze drops to my mouth. He shrugs his shoulders. “To be hospitable?”

I pat his knee. “My shift’s over. I don’t have to wait on you anymore.”

He nods with a grin. “Fair enough.”

I should get out, shut the door, go inside alone. That would be the smart thing to do, but smart has never been my strong suit where Dan is concerned. I grip the door handle tighter. “If you come in…”

He shifts, elbow against the seat, one brow raised like he’s already halfway through the door as he leans in, voice dropping dangerously low. “Yeah?”

I shake my head, hating the way my body betrays me, heating at just the possibility. “You know what will happen.”

His tongue swipes across his lower lip. “Do I?”

I exhale sharply. “Yes.”

Another stretch of silence. Another beat where I should just open the door and walk away, but I don’t because he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered. Like he’s been waiting for this moment, for me, for so so long.

I’ve waited too.

It’s as if my body wants this, craves it even, but my mind knows all too well the pain that follows and my heart can’t take another break. One more crack and there’ll be nothing left to fix.

My fingers twitch. I can feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the rain.

He shifts closer, invading my space without touching me. “Say the word, fiore mio. Just invite me in.”

12

DAN

She closes her eyes, breathing in the crackling air between us.

“Say the word, fiore mio. Just invite me in.” It takes all my strength to not touch her. It would be so easy to move an inch closer, brush my lips against her and weaken her defences, but she’s waging an internal war only she can work through. Maybe it’s the fact she’s still legally married, maybe it’s that she hates me, but I’d bet she wants me as much as I want her, only she’s too stubborn to admit it.

On an exhale she says, “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“If I let you in, I’ll have to kill you.” She pulls the door handle, pushes it open, and steps out into the rain. She turns back, meeting my gaze through the open car door. “Goodnight, Dan.”

A muscle in my jaw ticks, my chest deflating. “Goodnight, Rose”

She hugs her body in the rain as she rushes to the front door of her small semi-detached house on the outskirts of the city.

Was she so desperate to get away from me she forgot all about her umbrella and her case?

I reach into the footwell of her seat and grab her umbrella, then climb out of the car and open the back door, reaching for her case.

She’s still fumbling with her keys when I reach her door. A shiver wracks her bones, but the air isn’t cold.

“Here. Let me help you.” I take the key from her hand and slide it into the lock.

She opens the door and taps the keypad in the hall to kill the alarm. 0606.

I make a mental note of the number, save me from having to hack the system. The date 06/06 somewhat familiar but I can’t think why. “You forgot your things.” I slide the case into her hall, but my feet remain outside. Reaching in, I place her umbrella on her console table, knocking a photograph of her with a boy.

My chest tightens as I stare at the photograph. “Is that your son?” I nod to the console table.

She stands in front of it, preventing me from looking. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Wait.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a business card. “This is my number. Put it in your phone and if you need me for anything, call me.”

She nods, takes the card and closes the door.

Rain beats down on my face as I jog back to the car. I turn on the heaters and call Dom because with a matter as sensitive as this, he’s the only person I trust.

“You made it, then? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He chuckles on the other end of the phone.

“I’m glad to be back. Put it that way. Did you get the cameras set up?”

“Yeah. You want to log in?”

I set the car going and pull off the curb. She’ll be safe tonight. Magnus is still in Rome. “Change of plan. I’m coming back to the house.”

He chuckles again. “She wouldn’t let you in, would she?”

“No.” I tighten my jaw, grinding my back teeth.

“You’re losing your touch, brother.”

“She’s not the same person she was. She’s more wary now.” The girl I knew was a hopeless romantic, wearing her heart on her sleeve. One compliment and she was head over heels in love with me, like putty in my hands. I have my work cut out if I’m ever gonna be close to her again. And my smile ain’t gonna cut it anymore.

I turn off her estate. “Are you at the house or the cabin?”

“I’m coming to the house. I’ll meet you there.”

I pull the car into the garage next to Dom’s Range Rover.

Dom limps slightly as he climbs the stairs from the garage to the apartment on the first floor. He punches in the security code on the keypad and opens the steel door to my place. It’s probably overkill, but I like to keep my stuff secure.

I follow his limp into the kitchen and drop my holdall onto the floor. “Your leg still playing up?”

“I’ll live.” He slides a key across the worktop. “Her neighbour has a spare. Older lady lets herself in and looks after her cat while she’s at work.”

I nod. “Did she see you?”

“I hid in the wardrobe.” His lips lift in the corner.

“What were you doing in her bedroom?” My back muscles tense, annoyed that my brother’s been in her bedroom before me. But I want more than to scope out her home. I want her here in my bed.

Dom pats my shoulder. “You wanted me to put cameras up, didn’t you?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You put a camera in her bedroom?”

He grins as he grabs a beer and walks out of the kitchen. “You’re welcome.”

I open the fridge and collect a bottle of sparkling water, and follow Dom into the office. The familiar smells of polished wood and leather fills my nose, and I drop into the office chair with a creak.

Dom sits beside me in another chair and scoots close, taking over the mouse as the monitor comes alive. “There she is.”

I sit upright in the chair, leaning closer to the black-and-white screen, my jaw lax as Rose walks around her bedroom, opens a drawer and pulls out a t-shirt. My gaze flicks to Dom. “Have you been watching her?”

“Mate, you don’t think I have enough problems?” He stands and places a hand on my shoulder. “This one’s all yours.”

“Close the door on your way out.” I lean back in the swivel chair and clasp my fingers together over my abdomen, settling in for the show.

Her hairpins are the first thing to go and she shakes her hair out, letting it fall down her back. She runs her fingers through the long tresses as if massaging her scalp in the process, and I want to be there to do the same.

In my head, I’ve already wrapped her hair around my wrist and given it a tug to expose her neck where my lips trace every pulse and vein under her skin. My cock twitches at the thought and as she unbuttons her blouse, I click on the mouse to zoom in for a closeup.

The CCTV footage isn’t as clear as I’d like when zoomed in, but it’s clear enough to trace the outline of her heavy breasts with my cursor as her bra falls away. She bounces on the mattress, making her tits jiggle, and then she slides open a drawer at the side of her bed.

A groan leaves my lips when I see the vibrator slip out of a pouch and I unzip my trousers, reach into my boxers and curl my hand around my throbbing cock.

She takes off her knickers and places the toy between her legs, her back arching in pleasure as she plays with herself.

My tongue darts out to wet my lips. It’s been years since I’ve been intimate with her, but I remember it so vividly. I lean back in the chair, the cold leather pressing into my spine. But my body’s on fire. It always is when I think of her. I groan out again as I fist my erection and remember the first time I stroked her pussy in that boat on the lake…

“I don’t want you to leave.” Her sweet angelic voice whispers under the canopy of trees, the sun peeking through the foliage, catching my eyes.

The rowboat laps gently on the lake. The Villa Borghese Gardens are beautiful this time of year, but the scenery is nothing compared to the woman in my arms.

I trace a finger down her rosy cheek and tuck a stray strand of brunette hair behind her ear. My lips press to her forehead and I pull her closer to me as we lie in the wooden boat, drifting closer to the other end of the lake, away from the tourists.

“I wish I didn’t have to go.” After this next tour, I’ll be back. “Will you wait for me?” It’s wrong of me to ask this of her, but in the few months I’ve been here with my brother for a personal mission, I’ve fallen hard for this girl. Tomorrow all hell’s gonna break loose, so it’s better if she thinks I’m going back on tour a little earlier than I actually am.

“I’ll wait as long as it takes until we can be together again.” Her fingernails tease the hair at the back of my head and scrape down my nape. “I think I’m—” She shakes her head. “No. I know I am.”

My cock stirs in my trousers, and I dip my head to catch her lips in mine. My tongue slips through her parted mouth and I’m lost in her, swirling my tongue around hers and licking up every unspoken word. I know what she’s trying to say, because I feel exactly the same.

This was not part of the plan. Dom told me we didn’t need to infiltrate the family. He said we could get the intelligence we needed by other means, but with limited time, I took matters into my own hands. I just never anticipated falling for the mission.

We break apart, coming up for air. “Dan,” she says on a breathy whisper. She looks into my eyes. “Ti amo.”

My heart stutters at her words. I search her eyes, wondering if she’ll still love me tomorrow. “Ti amo fiore mio.”

Her eyes sparkle as she sucks in a breath, her own heart skipping a beat next to mine as we hold each other in the boat. I deepen the kiss, needing more of my flower. She’s like a fresh bloom, unpicked and untainted, as if she’s waited for me and now she’s ripe for the taking.

Holding her tight against me, her large breasts squash against my chest, almost spilling out of the yellow sundress with dainty pink flowers. My hand slides south, over the bumps and creases under the cotton fabric, until I reach her behind and squeeze it beneath my palm, my pelvis grinding into her soft stomach, needing more friction against my throbbing cock.

She gasps, breaking the kiss, her body trembling in my arms. Gazing up at me through her dark lashes, her eyes sparkle under the flickers of sunlight twinkling through the foliage like flashes of light putting on a show just for us.

“Dan.” She gulps and looks down at my chest, her fingers playing with a button on my shirt.

I curl my finger under her chin and lift her face back to mine, her blue eyes innocent, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen from our kiss and so fucking beautiful my chest hurts. “What is it, Rose?”

“I want you to…” She hides her face in my neck. Her warm breath against my skin sends a surge of electricity straight to my groin.

“Say it. You don’t need to be shy with me,” I whisper against her head, stroking her long wavy brunette hair.

Her breath trembles. She fists my shirt as she trails her lips to my ear. “I want you to touch me.”

If my dick wasn’t fully awake, he is now, as if he heard the words and sprang into action like a soldier saluting its superior.

Rosetta Conti is not some random girl to take to bed on the first night. I’ve taken my time with her. Been on my best behaviour, treated her like a gentleman should. She’s royalty in the Italian crime circles, and if anyone knew my real identity, my brother would be left to avenge our mother alone.

My thumb strokes in small circular motions over the side of her breast.

Her body shivers against mine, but there’s no breeze in this secluded part of the lake, tucked away between dense foliage.

My thumb catches her pebbled nipple under her dress. “Is this where you want me to touch you?”

She gulps again, the air thick between us as we both take heavy breaths. “Down there.” She hides her face again and mumbles against my shirt. “I want you to be my first.”

My heart pumps wildly against my ribs, sending all the blood to my growing dick. I glide my hand over her generous hip and stretch over her thigh until my fingers find the hem of her dress. With my fingertips, I walk over her bare skin, navigating every dimple as I climb under the cotton material. “Here?” I stroke a finger over her cotton knickers that disappear to a V between her thick thighs clenched together.

Her head nods against my chest.

“Use your words, fiore mio.” I stroke the cotton material, and lift my head slightly, searching for the picnic blanket in the boat.

“Yes. Touch me there.” Both hands fist my shirt as she quivers at the side of me. “Please, Dan.”

Before I let myself get carried away, I lift myself and reach for the picnic blanket and place it over her, hiding her legs and waist. Then I return to my previous position, lying next to her in the rowing boat.

She lifts her head and rests it on my biceps as I slide my arm underneath her. The way she gazes up at me, biting into her bottom lip, waiting for me to touch her, has me leaking from the tip, but this isn’t about me. This is about giving her an experience she can remember and hold on to while she waits for me to come home to her.

“Relax,” I whisper as I hook a finger into her knickers and stroke the soft hair there before reaching lower. “Open your legs a little.”

She whimpers and hooks a leg over mine, allowing me to slip my hand farther between her thighs.

Cupping her plump little pussy has my stomach tightening and my balls aching. The heat from my body is that of an inferno, but I keep a cool exterior, concentrating on her pleasure.

“Eyes on me.” I kiss her flushed cheek, then her lips, before gazing back into her eyes full of wonder. My finger runs along her virgin seam and slips into her heat with ease. “Fuck. You’re soaked,” I whisper with my lips against hers.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” She fists my shirt again and hides her face against my chest.

My shoulders shake with a silent laugh. I can’t help but chuckle at how adorable she is.

Her thighs clench around my hand, her body tensing as her palms cover her face.

“Never apologise to me for being turned on.” I slide my fingers through her folds and around her little bundle of nerves. “Look at me.”

She looks up with tears pooling in the corner of eyes. “I’ve never done this before. Should I have shaved?”

“No. You’re perfect, just as you are.”

“But you laughed.”

“I shouldn’t have laughed, but it was only because you’re so fucking adorable, embarrassed at your own arousal, and I’m here making a fucking mess in my trousers.”

Her eyes widen. “You are?”

“Yeah, unzip me and see for yourself. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s me. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve jerked myself off thinking about you.” I dip my head and claim her lips.

Her mouth is as soft and warm as her silky pussy walls. She slips a hand into my trousers and wraps her smooth palm around me. The sensation makes my eyelids flicker closed. I’ve been in the army so long, I’d forgot what a woman felt like.

“Dan,” she says with a breathy whisper against my lips, her thighs trembling around my hand. “What’s happening?” She squeezes her eyes shut as I flick the pad of my thumb over her swollen bud, my fingers crooked inside her dripping pussy.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” I gaze into her blue irises as bright and clear as the sky. “Have you never made yourself come before?”

Her head shakes from side to side. She gulps, her shoulders curling inwards as if recoiling in embarrassment, but my chest fills with pride that I’ll be able to give her this and be the first person to make her feel good. Trouble is, I want to be her last too.

“Don’t worry, just let it come and wash over you. Don’t fight it.” I press my lips to hers in a reassuring kiss as I work a second finger into her. “Damn, I want to taste you so bad.”

She kisses me back. “You can taste me.”

“I don’t mean your mouth.” My lips curve against hers and I whisper in her ear. “I mean your figa.”

She inhales a sharp breath. Her pussy walls grip my fingers, and I love how her body responds to me. Her hand falls loosely around my shaft as if she’s overcome with her own pleasure.

Rubbing the spot inside her that drives most women wild, I circle her clit with my thumb, wanting to make her come. “Would you like that, fiore mio?”

“Yes,” she says on an exhale, her cheeks flushed red, hips grinding against my hand under the blanket.

I continue to talk dirty in her ear, “My tongue inside you, my lips wrapped around your sensitive bud, French kissing your delicious figa.”

“Oh, Dan. I can’t breathe.” Her body tenses, her mouth forms an O, her eyes lock on mine, wide and glittering as if her cells are bursting and shattering into a million pieces.

A gush of warmth coats my fingers, her walls squeezing around them. My dick throbs and I almost come, knowing when I get inside this woman she’s gonna feel like heaven around my cock, but right now this isn’t about me getting my kicks. It’s about her and making her first time memorable.

“There, there.” I stop my movements, but keep my fingers inside her, feeling the small pulses from her body. “How did that feel?”

She whimpers as she catches her breath. “What was that?”

A chuckle shakes my chest. “Baby, that was your first orgasm.”

“It felt incredible.” She bites her lip, and her hand strokes my dick. “Can we do it again?”

I grip her wrist, pulling her hand away from my erection with a groan. “I’m about five seconds away from ripping your clothes off, eating your pussy and claiming you right here in this boat, so the whole of Rome knows you’re mine.” When I lift my head, a few other boats are rowing towards us. I won’t ruin her reputation.

I tuck myself away and make sure her dress is covering her thighs before I throw the picnic blanket from her legs.

“Tonight?” Rose sits up in the boat and fixes her hair.

I nod, knowing there’s no way I can just leave now without having her. “Tonight.”

13

ROSE

Carrying my groceries through the hall, I follow the dirt on my polished wooden floor. My son’s picture is askew on the console table.

My heart thumps in my throat. An icy shiver runs the length of my spine, making hairs prickle on my skin.

I drop the shopping bags to the floor, lift the wine bottle poking out of the bag and grip it like a baseball bat. I’ll swing if I have to, even if it is an expensive bottle of red, the kind that’s a shame to smash against my ex’s skull. This wine is too good for him.

I step into the kitchen, pulse hammering. “If someone’s in here, you better hope I miss.”

A clatter on the table makes my toes lift off the floor, my heart jolting.

Sir-Pounce-A-Lot jumps into my arms with a meow and I lean back against the wall with a sigh of relief, juggling the cat and the bottle.

A laugh bursts from my lips. “You silly cat. You scared the life out of me.” I place the bottle on the worktop before I drop it, then rub his black fur and massage his pointy ears, the action calming my nerves.

“You’re going to be the death of me one day.” I giggle to myself, but as I glance over at the toppled vase on the dining table, my throat tightens. Water pools around pink roses on the glass, dripping onto my tiled floor.

I haven’t filled it with flowers in a long time. My stomach twists. I put Sir-Pounce-A-Lot down and grab the wine bottle again as I check the living room, then run to the back and then upstairs.

I catch my breath in the bedroom as I scan for any sign that someone’s been here. My money would be on Magnus, but only D’Angelo has ever bought me pink roses.

Bastard.

Of course it’s him. He let himself into my family home all those years ago. I don’t know what he did in the army. For all I know, that could have been another one of his lies. He probably wasn’t even in the army. But he makes breaking and entering look like an art form.

Storming down the stairs, I set the wine on the console table and rifle through my flight attendant jacket pocket and find the card he gave me. My nail chips as I tap the numbers into my phone with force, but my nails are the least of my worries.

His smarmy voice answers on the second ring. “Missing me already?”

“Go to hell.”

“I’ve been there before. I’d rather not go back.”

“Well, you can get your arse round here and clean up the mess you’ve made.”

“Mess?”

“The flowers you left are all over my kitchen table. And take your flippin’ shoes off the next time you break into my house. I have dirt all over my floor.”

He laughs down the handset. “You said you liked it when I left you flowers.”

“That was before I knew you were a lying piece of shit who was using me for intel. I don’t know what you’re after now. But I don’t have any information for you. I left all that behind when I changed my name.”

“You might not have any intel on your family, but you do have something I want.”

My throat closes up as if I can’t breathe. My fingers curl around my neck, remembering his hand there, and I stare at the photograph of my son on the console in the hall. “What do you want, D’Angelo?”

“You.” He growls down the phone. “I want to make you pay for what you did. I want you to remember who you belong to. Who owns your orgasm. I want you on your knees begging for my cock like you were that first time.”

“You’re more delusional than I thought if you think that’s ever going to happen.” With a trembling finger, I cancel the call, march into the dining room, and gather the bunch of roses in my hand. Thorns prick my skin, but I welcome the pain and clench my fist tighter around the stems. The sharp edges sting my palm, but it’s nothing compared to the dull ache that lives in my chest after what he did to me. It’s easier to stay angry when I don’t have to drown in those silvery, grey-blue eyes that reflect memories I’ve fought to forget. Our painful past keeps rising to the surface, no matter how many times I try to bury it.

I crank my front door handle down, yank it open and step back as Dan’s tall frame blocks out the sun. My knees weaken, threatening to buckle underneath me as his heated eyes stare down at the roses gripped in my hand.

“Get the hell off of my property.” I throw the flowers at him, but they just hit his chest and fall to the ground.

He doesn’t flinch, as if they’re invisible. His eyes glued to mine. “You’re hurt.”

“No Dan. I’m just pissed that you have the audacity to think you can show up in my life, break into my house, and leave me fucking flowers as if the last thirteen years never happened.”

He enters my hallway, stepping over the roses and flattening a stray one on the welcome mat underneath his polished shoe.

I stand frozen, my jaw lax at the nerve of him. I was that pink rose under his shoe. He thought he could just walk all over me. Well, not anymore. “Get out.” With the fury burning up inside me, I expect smoke to come out my nostrils, I’m breathing so hard.

He steps closer, trespassing into my home just like he trespassed his way into my heart another lifetime ago. “I’m not leaving you like this.”

I clench my fists, another heavy breath leaves my lungs. “It’s you who’s making me like this.” My fist flies at his chest but his arm swoops in to block me and he grabs my wrist. He’s close. Too close. His scent overpowering, making me dizzy.

“Rose. You’re hurt.” He holds my wrist in his hand as he shuts the door behind him. Having him close like this messes with my head and weakens my resolve. It’s as if my body remembers his touch, the way he made my body sing, but my head knows he played me like a fiddle and I fell for every single one of his tricks.

My heart splutters in my chest as if it’s weeping. Red pools around my wrist where Dan holds me. It’s like my body’s weeping for him still, but I won’t allow him to take advantage of me for a second time. More blood trickles from my clenched fist. My head is light and I realise I haven’t eaten today.

“Rose?” His voice sounds far away, his face fades.

I’m weightless, floating on a cloud, the familiar scent of his cologne, woody like the Italian stone pines, transporting me back to the night he made love to me. It’s as if I can still feel those strong arms wrapped around me, his breath on my neck. No matter how many times I tried to erase the memory of him, he wouldn’t go, like a stubborn stain left on my mind that I’ve had to live with.

His hands are warm and yet so strong, but gentle.

My eyelids flutter open, his face coming into view as he hovers above me. If it wasn’t for the lines around his eyes, I’d swear I was eighteen again.

He wipes a warm flannel across my forehead and down my cheek. “Hi,” he says with a wrinkle on his brow.

“Hi.” It takes me a minute to pull my gaze from his and realise I’m in my living room, lying on my couch. The fog in my head clears as he swipes the warm cloth over my chest and then down my arm. I follow his hand as he washes away the bloody streaks from my skin with the softest caress. His tattooed fingers working their magic like before.

“Do you always faint? Is there a medical condition I should know about?” He opens my hand, places the warm cloth there.

“I thought you knew everything there was to know about me?” I roll my eyes and look away, then flinch as he swipes the flannel over my hand.

“Sorry. You had a thorn stuck in there.” He brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss there, his eyes not leaving mine as I glare at him.

My pulse quickens as he kisses another part of my hand, then returns to wiping the blood away. “Your shirt.”

He glances down at the small bloodstains on his chest. “I can replace it.” He examines my hand. “I think the bleeding’s stopped. Do you have a bandage?”

I lift myself onto my elbow, but Dan gently coaxes me back down.

“You stay there. Tell me where it is.”

“The kitchen cupboard. There’s a box on the top shelf full of first aid stuff.”

He rises to his feet, then disappears into the kitchen.

I lean my head back on the arm of the sofa and rest my forearm over my eyes. What am I doing? I need help. Should’ve had therapy. I need therapy. Maybe I just need an orgasm. If my vagina was satisfied more often, I might not keep getting distracted by Dan.

Ugh, I hate him so much. I flex my hand, opening and closing my fingers. Blood creeps into the creases on my palm like a river carving out a path in the landscape. Only the blood on my hand fills my heart line and seeps into my fate line. Our relationship was doomed from the start. Even now, as I stare at my hand, our fate is covered in blood. This won’t end well for me.

“Is it bleeding again?” He kneels and opens my hand, cleaning the minor cuts, then places a large padded plaster over my palm. His thumb massages the edges, making sure it’s stuck down to my hand, his calloused fingers rough against my skin, but it feels good.

“I’m hypoglycaemic.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

Dan places a hand on my forehead as if checking for a temperature. “What does that mean?”

“It means I have low blood pressure and when I don’t eat, it causes dizzy spells.” I silently curse myself for skipping breakfast, but with everything going on with Mamma and seeing Dan again, food is the last thing on my mind.

“And when was the last time you ate?”

I shake my head. “In Rome, before the flight home.”

Dan’s lips press together as he rises to his feet. “Wait here.”

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you something to eat.” He storms out of the room and I’m left wondering how I’ve ended up in this situation with Dan in my home and now getting me food. I daren’t tell him I haven’t actually had it checked out. He’d probably drive me to the hospital right now. But I can’t afford to get diagnosed with any illness that’s going to ground me. And I definitely can’t afford to fall for him again.

14

DAN

Iroll my sleeves up as I pull a pan from her cupboard and place it on the hob with a clatter. The noise echoes like the thoughts in my head. I should have cut the thorns from the roses, should have read her medical report, should have been here for her before now. Should’ve never left. So many should haves.

“What did the pan ever do to you?” Rose leans against the worktop, propping her chin in her hand. She’s pale. Too pale. And still a little shaky on her feet—but she’s pretending she’s fine.

“I thought I told you to stay in the living room.” I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re not very good at following orders, are you?”

“I’m not one of your soldiers, Lieutenant.” Her brows pull inwards with a scowl.

I open the fridge and pour her a glass of juice. “Here, drink this and sit down before you fall down. Again.”

“Yes, sir.” She salutes me and climbs onto a breakfast bar stool, twisting the seat side to side as she sips her juice.

I can’t help but silently chuckle. What I’d do to spank her backside. She should take better care of herself. “I’m not in the army anymore.”

“Were you ever? Or was it just another lie?”

I crack a couple of eggs into the pan. “I never lied to you.”

She almost chokes on her drink, but coughs it up. “You told me your name was Daniel Harris.”

“Harris was my mother’s maiden name. And I never said my name was Daniel.” I point the spatula in her direction, the idea of spanking her with it becoming more and more favourable. “I told you it was Dan, which is what everyone calls me. You just assumed it was short for Daniel.”

She puffs up her chest. “You never corrected me when I was calling you Daniel.”

“It was better for you that you didn’t know my real name.”

Her fist digs into her wide hip. “So you admit you lied.”

“I protected you from the truth. There’s a difference.”

Her blue eyes stare into me, but there's a hint of warmth to them. “Take your shirt off.”

I tilt my head, wondering if I heard that right. “Excuse me?”

“Let me wash your shirt.”

A smile curves my lips. As I unbutton my shirt, I don’t miss how her eyes roam over the ink on my chest, just like they did years ago when I had her alone in her bedroom. Only I have more ink now. “Here.” I hand her the shirt.

She slides off the stool and takes it into the utility room while I scramble her eggs and unload the bags of shopping on the floor.

I glance over my shoulder. She’s taking her time. Probably scrubbing the stains on the shirt. Or maybe steadying herself again. Either way, she’s not as strong as she’s pretending to be. And it guts me that I hadn’t noticed it before.

I feel her eyes on me before I hear her. Hairs stand to attention. Oil splashes on my chest, reminding me I’m shirtless and I kinda like having her watch me.

“You have more tattoos.”

Yep, she’s definitely looking.

“What’s with the roses?” She waves her glass of juice in my direction.

“A reminder that beautiful things aren’t always what they seem.”

The glass slams against the worktop. “You got that right,” she says with a huff.

“Enough with the digs.” The toaster pops up with two slices of bread. “If anyone lied, it’s you.”

“What did I lie about?”

I butter the bread, chewing over my words while mocking hers in my head. What did I lie about? She knows damn well what she did. A snarl forms on my face as I slide her egg on toast over to her. “Here. Eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” She slides the plate to the side. “What did I lie about?”

“Just eat the damn food, Rose.” My voice cracks more than I want it to. Fucking choke on it. I turn my back to her and stuff my hand into my pocket and pop a piece of gum from the packet. The first pop of strawberry on my tongue takes the edge off her betrayal, the flavour making it easier to swallow. I rub the tightness away in my chest. As much as her rejection hurts, the thought of anything happening to her squeezes my lungs.

“Tell me. I genuinely don’t know what you think I did to you.”

Turning back to her, I soak in her sincere expression and take back my thoughts. Please don’t choke on it, because then I’ll have to give you the kiss of life. She’s still beautiful. Beautiful but deadly. “Do I have to feed you?”

She lifts a piece of toast covered in egg, folds it over and tears a piece off with her teeth. “Happy?” she mumbles. Melted butter drips down her chin, and she licks it up.

My throat tightens. “Did you talk to your husband like a spoilt brat?” I fold my arms over my chest to hide my clenched fists. Every time I think of that motherfucker I want to punch something.

She swallows, her body tensing as she straightens her spine. “Don’t you ever bring that monster’s name up in my house again.”

Now we’re getting somewhere. “Is that why you changed your identity? You’re hiding from him?”

“I changed my name because I didn’t want to be associated with a criminal.”

“Is that why you didn’t wait for me like you said you would?” The words come out too fast and too raw. I hadn’t meant to ask that. Not like this. Something squeezes my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Her blue eyes dull as if covered by a cloud. She wipes her mouth. “Is that what you meant when you said I lied?”

I run a hand down my face. I’ve said too much. Showed my weakness. But where she’s concerned, she is my weakness. “You catch on fast.”

She stands from the stool, pushing her empty plate away. “You’re unbelievable.” She wobbles on her feet, her hand presses against her ribs as if she’s in pain and I corner the counter, wrapping my arms around her.

“You need to take it easy. Are you sure it’s just low blood pressure or whatever you just said?”

“It’s not just hypoglycaemia.” She narrows her eyes as she glares up at me. “It’s arseholes who betrayed me and think they have the right to be upset that I moved on.” She pushes against me, but I don’t miss how her palms glide over my chest, her fingertips sliding through the hairs there, outlining the inked feathers on my skin.

I wrap her hair around my fist. “I don’t regret what I did to your father. And I’m not sorry for being the first man you ever loved, but I am sorry I left you that night.”

“I could’ve lived with everything, D’Angelo, but I can’t forgive you for using me and breaking my trust.” She pushes against me again and I let her go. “You hurt me more than anyone’s ever hurt me.” She slams the door on her way out of the kitchen and stomps up the stairs.

I rub the pain in my chest, like a dagger slicing up what’s left of my heart. Am I the asshole here? I don’t think so.

I loved her.

I still do.

And that’s the fucking problem.

15

ROSE

Just breathe. Just keep breathing. As I gaze in the bathroom mirror, my fingers grip the edge of the vanity unit. I had to get away from him before he saw the tears pool in my eyes. I refuse to let him see me cry. Damn it, I won’t cry.

My hand hurts where the padded plaster is. The way he took care of me and made me food was the most care a man’s ever shown me in years. In fact, he’s the only man ever to show me that sort of attention. Even more than my brother and father, but the way he looked at me with his dark stare full of hate and disappointment contradicts his actions.

I had to get out of the kitchen, unable to take the heat of his brooding stare and strong arms folded over his broad chest, and all those tattoos and skin and chest hair and oh my goodness, just stop drooling already. I hate him. I cannot forget that.

Why does he have to be so good looking? He could have at least put some weight on like me, but then I’d probably still find his dad bod attractive. I wish he’d gone bald, but knowing him, he’d probably make that look hot, too. I wish I did actually hate him. It would make this so much easier to bear.

In truth, I only tell myself I hate him, because loving him is too damn painful.

The front door clicks, making me jump. I look out the window as he walks down my drive, shirtless. My neighbour, Mrs. Aranda, is watering her garden. Holy crap, he’s gonna give her a heart attack.

She drops her sunglasses, the hose forgotten as it sprays all over the lawn.

Dan walks towards the picket fence separating our lawns and hands her the roses that he’s collected from the ground. She takes them with her gloved hand and smiles, then he gets in his car and drives away.

Finally able to breathe, I step out of the bathroom and trudge down the stairs. My heart clenches at the sight of the single pink rose on the console table with the thorns stripped off and the picture of my son skewed again.

I open the door and step out into the sun, squinting at Mrs. Aranda.

“Hello, dear. You didn’t say you’d employed a gardener.” She stands and wipes her brow, a small trowel in her hand.

“Gardener?” My brows pull together.

“Mind you, I’ve a good mind to employ him myself.” She chuckles. “He looks like a very nice young man.”

“He’s not young. He’s ten years older than me in his forties.”

“Anything below fifty is young in my book, dear.” She waves the trowel in my direction. “It’s about time you let your hair down. You can have some fun now. Your boy’s away at school.”

A smile curves my lips. “I don’t need a man to have fun, Sandra.”

“We can all bake a cake on our own, but it’s more fun when there’s two of you.” Her eyebrow lifts, and she bends back down to continue with her gardening, humming to herself.

I shake my head with a smile, feeling a little lighter as I stroll back to the house. I lock the door behind me, ignoring the rose on the side, and wander into the kitchen.

He’s cleaned my plate. Can the man be any more perfect? If only he wasn’t an untrustworthy backstabbing arsehole.

“I’ll be at yours in about fifteen,” Helena says, my only friend and the only person I trust with my son.

“Great. Did the boys have a good time last night?” I’ve already heard from Angelos as he texted me last night while staying over at a friend’s. His mum, Helena, collected them from school Friday and now she’s dropping him off. It helps that the school isn’t too far away. Being one of England’s most prestigious boarding schools with top security helps ease my anxiety.

“The boys enjoyed the party. Now I need a lie down in a dark room. I’ve left the other half at home cleaning up.”

“Don’t blame you. Do you have time for a coffee?” I wipe the surface of my worktop, making sure everything is spotless.

“Yeah. The longer I’m away, the less clean-up I have to do.”

I smile into the handset. “All right. I’ll put the kettle on. See you soon.”

I cancel the call and jump at the sound of a chainsaw coming from my front garden. My heart kicks against my ribs as I spin on my heel, peering out of the window. The noise is deafening, an invasion of my peaceful Sunday morning.

My jaw drops, anger rising like flames licking at my racing heart as I stare at Dan on my front lawn, shirtless, holding a very large hedge trimmer. Of course it’s him. Who else would have the audacity to invade my privacy?

I barely register my feet moving before I’m yanking open the front door and stomping onto the grass, the cool blades tickling my bare toes.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shout, folding my arms over my baggy t-shirt. Strands of hair blow in front of my face with the light breeze and I shove them away with a huff.

Dan’s muscles vibrate as he wields the hedge trimmer, his ink glistening like black diamonds with a sheen of sweat under the sun’s rays. He turns the trimmer off and lowers it to his side, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk as his eyes roam over me from my old band t-shirt to my leggings. “Morning to you too, fiore mio.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your flower.”

His eyes narrow. “Sorry I forgot, la mia spina velenosa.”

“You can call me a poisonous thorn if you like, but I’m not yours.”

The sun beats down on my face, and I lift a hand to shield my eyes from the blinding glare, but the view before me is just as imposing.

I once traced the wings of the angel on his chest, kissed the feathers that were for his mother. It’s been years, but if I close my eyes, I can still feel the tickle of his chest hair against my nose, the warmth of his body against mine, the weight of all my troubles lifted in his arms.

In my moment of weakness, he’s stepped closer, his fingers grazing my cheek as he swipes the blonde hairs from my face.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, the words like a vow, dark and unwavering.

A shiver races down my spine.

“My beautiful rose, whose thorns pierced my heart. Your poison runs through my veins, clouding my thoughts, consuming me—mind, body, and soul.” His calloused fingers move from my cheek to my neck as he curls them around my throat.

I suck in a breath, my pulse hammering beneath his grip. Not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to make my breath hitch and my stomach tighten with something dangerously close to anticipation.

“Don’t you see, Rosetta?” His breath ghosts over my cheek, his voice almost reverent. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. Just because you evaded me all these years doesn’t mean you weren’t in my head.”

He’s been thinking of me all this time? The revelation knocks the air from my lungs faster than his hand on my throat, and I hate how my body betrays me. Heat coils around my belly, my legs threaten to give out, barely holding my weight. With the little strength I have left, I lift my hand and slap him across the face.

He smirks, but lets go of my throat before I pass out.

“Are you trying to strangle me?” I demand, my fingers brushing my throat, my skin still burning where he touched me.

“It’s tempting.” A cocky grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he places the hedge trimmer on the grass and grabs the shears.

“What are you doing?” I shuffle on my feet, the grass soft underfoot.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m trimming your bush.” He clips the brambles intertwined with the azalea bush, his shoulders shaking with silent amusement.

“I don’t need a gardener.” I huff, digging my fists into my hips. “Next you’ll want to fertilise my flower bed.”

“Well, your neighbour thinks that’s what I am now, so I’m just keeping up appearances while I keep an eye on you.” He steps away from me as he continues to trim the hedge.

“What are you, a cop now? I don’t need surveillance, and I certainly don’t need you here helping me.” I stomp forward, my annoyance outweighing my better judgement—until I stand on something sharp. “Ow.” My hand rests on his biceps as I jerk my foot up.

Dan rolls his eyes, but is fast to react, his firm hands sliding around my waist to steady me. “Don’t need my help, huh?” His voice is smug, but his eyes soften as he holds me upright.

“It’s your fault I stood on that stupid thing, just like it was your fault I cut my hand open yesterday.” I wave my hand in his face, with the sticky plaster covering my cut.

“Well, if you’d stop being so damn stubborn and fighting me all the time, maybe you wouldn’t keep hurting yourself.” There’s a dominant undertone in his voice that makes my pulse race.

He drops to his knees and cups my ankle. The rough pad of his thumb sliding along the sole of my foot sends tingles rushing through me like a ripple that grows stronger as it reaches my spine and I shudder.

My stomach flips. My grip tightens on his broad shoulders for support, and his muscles flex beneath my palms. “Is it bleeding?”

His gaze lifts, locking onto mine. “No. You’re good.” Without breaking eye contact, he brings my foot to his lips, pressing slow, deliberate kisses against my toes.

A rush of heat slams through me, my lungs forgetting how to work, my heart threatening to beat its way out of my chest. I should pull away. I should slap him again, but every cell in my body aches for him to kiss his way up my leg—to the apex of my thighs.

A dog barks, jolting me back to reality as fur brushes against my leg. Dexter, my neighbour’s Cavalier King Charles spaniel, jumps between us, his fluffy tail wagging as he licks Dan’s face.

Dan lets go of my ankle and fusses the dog. “Hey, where’d you come from?” His smile widens as he ruffles the dog behind his ears.

“He likes you.” I place my foot down on the soft grass, my knees wobbly. Somehow, this man has the power to infuriate me and make me melt all in the space of ten minutes.

“At least someone does.”

“Dexter, there you are.” My neighbour stands on my driveway with the dog’s lead in hand. “Morning, Grace.”

“Morning, Andy.”

Dan rises, straightening his spine, his palm settling on the small of my back.

“Oh. Didn’t see you there.” Andy steps onto my lawn, extending a hand to Dan. “You must be…”

Dan shakes his hand. “I’m Grace’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”

I side-eye him, my jaw clenching with a fake smile. Lying twat.

“Funny, she’s never mentioned you before.” Andy clips the lead onto Dexter’s collar.

“You know Grace, she’s a private person.” Dan casually slings an arm around my shoulders. “How long’s it been now, little bird? We met on one of her flights. Funny story, actually. She spilt hot tea all over me and to make it up to me, she offered to take me on a date.”

Andy straightens, giving Dan a once-over, then glances at me. “Tea, huh?” His lips twitch like he’s trying not to laugh. “Didn’t peg you for the clumsy type, Grace.”

I stare at Dan, my jaw practically unhinged. Tea? A spill? A date? He’s lost his damn mind.

Dan squeezes my shoulder, his thumb casually stroking the bare skin there, like he has any right. “Oh, it was a disaster, mate. Full pot. Piping hot. Right in my lap. Thought I’d never father children.”

I’ll make sure he can never father children after this.

Andy winces in sympathy. “Oof. Bet that hurt.”

“Oh, excruciating,” Dan says, all fake sincerity. “But Grace felt so bad. She insisted on looking after me. Sat with me the whole flight, brought me ice packs, dabbed at my—” He nods at his member.

I jab an elbow into his ribs before he can say something truly horrific. “It wasn’t that bad,” I grit out, my cheeks flaming.

Dan huffs a laugh but barrels on, undeterred. “Well, I wasn’t going to tell her this, but—” He leans in like he’s letting Andy in on some grand secret. “I might have exaggerated my pain a little. Just to keep her close.”

I blink. Is he trying to kill me? Right here? On my own lawn?

Andy chuckles. “Smooth. And she bought it?”

Dan grins. “Hook, line, and sinker. Ended up going out for drinks that night, didn’t we, little bird?”

I am going to strangle him with my bare hands.

Andy looks at me, amused. “Didn’t think you’d go for someone like him.”

“Oh, me neither,” I say through gritted teeth. “Total shock.”

“But she fell hard,” Dan adds, absolutely delighted with himself. “Didn’t stand a chance, did you, sweetheart?”

I side-eye him, my fake smile straining. “Mm. Hopeless.”

Andy laughs. “Okay, I’ll let you two lovebirds get back to it. Come on, Dexter.”

As soon as he’s out of earshot, I shove Dan’s arm off me and whirl to face him. “Boyfriend?” I hiss. “Are you actually deranged?”

Dan shrugs. “Seems easier than explaining the truth.”

“Right. Because the truth is that you’re an arsehole, trespassing in my garden.”

“You really need to work on your fake dating skills, little bird.”

I gape at him. “We are not fake dating. You just lied about everything.”

Dan shrugs. “Wasn’t everything. We did meet on a flight.”

I press my fingers to my temples, inhaling deeply. Stay calm. Murder is illegal. Even when it’s justified.

Dan lifts the neck of my baggy t-shirt and covers my bra strap.

Unfortunately, my body betrays me with a sharp, unwanted jolt of awareness. I bat his hand away, trying to shake it off.

“Right.” I clear my throat. “You’ve had your fun. Now, shoo.” I flap my hands at him as if I’m warding off a particularly infuriating seagull.

Dan just grins, completely unrepentant. “Not a chance, little bird. I think I quite like being your boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend.”

“There you go. You’re getting into it.”

I stomp my foot down, this time hitting the soil. “You can’t be here right now, Dan.”

His brows knit together. “Why not?”

“Because I’m expecting company.”

“Who?”

“Mind your own flippin’ business.” I press both my hands onto his chest in an attempt to push him away, but he grabs a hold of my hands and holds them against him. His heart beats under my palm and I’m taken back to the night we made love in my bedroom.

“Your mother asked me to protect you. I won’t be the one to tell her I failed. Whoever is coming over, you tell them whatever you want to tell them, but I’m not leaving.”

“It’s my son.” I yank my hands from his grip before I lose all self-control and succumb to any more of his demands.

A car rolls up to the curb. Helena tilts her sunglasses as she takes in the scene.

“At least put a bloody shirt on.” I tiptoe over the lawn, making sure I don’t tread on any more of the cuttings.

16

ROSE

Angelos climbs out of the car, throwing a backpack over his shoulder, his friend Charlie right behind him. Usually he’d run into my arms, but I can see he’s trying to act cool in front of his friend. “Sup, bruh.”

“I’m your mother. Not bruh.” I ruffle his hair and kiss his head despite his protest as he shrugs away from me. “I have your favourite sweets in the cupboard.”

“Muuum, I’m almost a teenager.”

“Can you not eat sweets when you’re a teenager?”

Helena walks up the drive, nearly tripping in her heels as she peers over her sunglasses at Dan.

He strides over to us, tugging a white t-shirt over his deliciously inked torso that’s like a work of art sculpted by the great Italian Renaissance artists. “Did someone say sweets?”

“Who are you?” Angelos asks, staring up at him with a frown.

My heart beats in my neck, and my stomach flips as if I’m in the air about to nosedive into the Mediterranean sea. I’m trained in emergency situations. But I’m not prepared for this.

Helena steps in front of Angelos. “Hi, I’m Helena.” She holds out her hand.

Dan caresses it and brings it to his lips. “Pleasure.” His eyes flick to mine, twinkling with a smile. “I’m Grace’s gardener. Hasn’t she mentioned me before?”

Arsehole.

Helena narrows her eyes at me. “No, she hasn’t. I can see why she wouldn’t want to share you. You’re very good at what you do, aren’t you?”

Dan chuckles. “The best in the business.”

Angelos crosses his arms. “Mum, since when do we have a gardener?” He studies Dan. “You look like my uncle.”

I wince, knowing that’s impossible, but can’t help but notice the resemblance too. Angelos always looked more like Elio than he did me, but I figured it’s because he’s another male in the Conti family. Thankfully, skipping the harsh features from my father. “Take Charlie inside. The sweets are in the kitchen.”

Helena raises an eyebrow, biting back a smirk. “So, Grace, how long have you had a gardener?”

Dan scratches the back of his neck. “Specialist service. Grace has a very demanding bush—takes an expert to handle it.”

I choke on my own breath, my cheeks on fire.

“What kind of services does a specialist gardener do?” Helena stares at me over her sunglasses, her eyes wide like saucers.

“Trimming, pruning. Grace keeps me on my toes.”

I’ll step on his bloody toes in a minute.

“All right, let’s go inside. Dan needs to get back to work.” I wave my hand, gesturing Helena down the drive and into the house. “He’s meant to be working, not flirting.” I turn my head back to him and glare as I walk towards my front door. “Weeds need to be dealt with.”

“I’m working on the weeds, don’t worry,” Dan says, full of laughter, his nose scrunching in that irritating way.

I don’t dare look back in case I decide to murder him after all.

“Take your shoes off,” I call to the boys before they bound up the stairs.

Helena stumbles into the house behind the boys. “What the actual…” Her sunglasses rest on the tip of her nose, hanging low like her lax jaw.

“Ugh, not you as well. He’s already bewitched Mrs. Aranda next door.” I rub the soles of my feet, brushing off the dirt before sliding my feet into my flip-flops near the door. Should have put them on before. I roll my eyes at my own stupidity.

She drops her bag onto the kitchen worktop and closes the door to the kitchen now the boys are upstairs. “Spill the tea. I want all the details.”

I flick the switch on the kettle and lean back against the fridge door while chewing on my lip. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Liar. How long has he been tending your bush?”

“I don’t need a man to tend to my bush.” A smile pushes my cheeks up. “I have a beautician for that.”

Her long nails tap against the glass chopping board. “And when was the last time you visited her?”

I shrug, pulling out two mugs, contemplating whether I should make Dan a drink as well. “About six months.”

“Six months?” she yells. “You need to book her in. If I was single and had a gardener like that, I wouldn’t be wasting his skills on topiary.”

I spin around and grab three tea bags for three mugs. “Please, I don’t need a therapy session on my waxing schedule.”

“No. You need a therapy session on him. The gardener. I saw the way you were with him. I’ve never known you fawn over a man before, so spill the tea.” She points a finger at the mug I’m stirring. “Not that tea, though. I’m parched.”

“He’s just here to trim my hedges.” And annoy the hell out of me. I grab the milk from the fridge and drop a splash into each mug.

She cackles. “Please. He’s trimming more than your hedges. Or at least he wants to. Is it me, or does he give off an ‘I’m your new obsession’ vibe? The way he was looking at you was intense.’”

I slide her mug of tea over to her. “Be back in a minute.” I lift Dan’s mug from the counter.

Helena perches her bottom on the breakfast bar stool and smirks behind the mug as if she knows I’m hopelessly attracted to my gardener.

Dan’s on his knees, weeding my border when I step onto the lawn.

“I made you a drink,” I say, towering above him, contemplating pouring it over his head.

He glances up at me with a wide smile. “Thank’s, Grace, I’m dying of thirst here. My mouth’s as dry as a desert.”

“Probably all the lies you keep telling. You should try keeping your mouth shut.”

He takes a sip of the drink with a chuckle. “Next time, I’ll let you do the talking. You can tell your friends and neighbours how you stabbed me in the back.” He smiles sarcastically.

“I think it was you that stabbed me in the back, pretending to be in love with me just to gather intel.” I wish I’d let him die of thirst. Smug bastard. “Enjoy your drink. I only added two laxatives. But it should be enough to expel all your bullshit.” I turn around and storm back into the house. Not giving Dan time to bewitch me with his smile or arm porn.

Helena shuffles on her stool in glee. “I knew it. You’re all flustered.”

I let out a long breath. “It’s complicated.”

“So you are fucking?”

“Keep your voice down. We’re not fucking.”

She blows into her hot drink. “But you want to. Admit it.”

“Fine,” I sigh, trying to act nonchalant. It’s pointless denying that I want to have sex with him. I mean, he’s like chiselled Italian marble. Any girl with the best will in the world would crumble, eventually. “But you’re not getting a single detail from me. You’ll have to settle for your fantasies. Just don’t go imagining things while I’m here. And for the record—nothing has happened.”

“Yet.” Her eyebrow rises again, and I know I’m in trouble. “Okay, but if he asks you to water his plants, you better let me know.”

I snort into my tea. “I don’t think he’s that kinky.”

“Have you stalked his Instagram? What’s his name? Or should I just call him Mr. I’m-going-to-make-your-knees-weak?”

“His name’s Dan Bianchi. And I’m definitely not stalking him.”

She’s already tapping her phone. “I am.” Her face frowns. “Huh? There’s nothing coming up for him.”

“I don’t think he has social media.” I’ve already searched many times over the years.

“Oh, I thought he’d want to show off his garden tools?”

I nearly spit out my tea this time. “What do you mean, garden tools?”

“Come on, Grace.” She leans in, lowering her voice like she’s telling me a deep secret. “We both know he’s got those big… gardening hands. And you’ve seen his arms. Don't even pretend like they don’t make you wonder how he’d handle… other things.”

I roll my eyes, but my heart’s racing, and I can feel a blush creeping up my neck. “You need to get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Gutter? I’m in the penthouse. I know exactly where your mind is going. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice how he fills out his jeans. The way he tugged that white t-shirt over his chest? Don’t lie. You were practically drooling.”

“I wasn’t drooling,” I snap, my voice louder than I meant. But it’s no use—she’s grinning as if she’s just won the lottery.

“Uh-huh,” she says, sipping her tea as if she’s just had the juiciest gossip of the decade. “You don’t have to admit it, babe. Your blush says it all. I mean, I can’t blame you. Dan is—chef’s kiss. He’s definitely got that ‘I’ll break your heart but I’ll be worth it’ vibe.”

Don’t I know it?

“Fine, whatever,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “But I’m telling you, there’s nothing happening between us. He’s just a guy who is good at pruning roses.” He certainly cut me down many years ago.

She bursts into laughter. “Oh, Gracie, keep telling yourself that. But we both know you’re counting down the days until he’s pruning more than just your… bushes.”

The kitchen door creaks open. We both stare at Dan. His grin couldn’t get any wider, as if he’s heard everything we’ve said and his ego’s about to explode.

He lifts the mug. “Thanks for the tea.”

Helena’s phone pings, and she rolls her eyes. “I gotta go.” She walks past Dan and into the hallway. “Charlie, we’re going.”

I follow her into the hallway. “Thanks for bringing Angelos home.”

“It was worth the thirty-mile round trip just to… you know.” She winks as the boys come downstairs, then air kisses my cheek. “Get it, girl.”

“Thank you for having me over last night. Mrs. Eseloma,” Angelos says.

“No problem. See you at school tomorrow.” She and her son wave as they walk to their car at the bottom of my drive.

I hug Angelos now his friend’s gone, and kiss the top of his head. “I’ve missed you. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, can we get a takeaway?” He looks up with his beautiful silvery-blue eyes that are all too similar.

“Sure. Why not?” I follow him into the kitchen, but halt in the doorway.

Dan stands there frozen in place, mug in hand, eyes glued to my son. Dan’s gaze cuts to mine, sharp and questioning. The mug in his hand trembles ever so slightly.

I take it from him and place it in the sink. “Anyway, it’s been a long day. Thank you for your help…” I smile through gritted teeth. “…with my bush.”

Dan doesn’t move. He just stares at Angelos. Or, more accurately, stares at the features that mirror his own.

My chest tightens. It’s so hard to breathe in here. I open a window, needing fresh air. Needing a distraction from Dan.

Angelos opens the fridge, rummaging around like it’s just any normal Sunday, helping himself to a can of fizzy pop.

“Don’t you have to get off now?” I say as I turn around from the window.

Dan looks up at me, his eyes full of questions and memories, like looking into a window to our past.

“You’ve already been so helpful. I couldn’t possibly ask you to stay any longer.” I widen my eyes and move around Angelos, rummaging through a cupboard for a takeaway menu.

My hands press against Dan’s chest as I try to usher him to the doorway, but he’s unmoving.

His gaze still fixed on Angelos as he asks, “How old is he?”

His voice is calm. Too calm.

But his eyes say everything.

17

DAN

It’s like looking at my kid brother, Dom. The same smattering of sun-kissed freckles across his nose. The same goofy teeth we both had before braces—a trait carried on from my father.

Rose stays silent as if frozen, her knuckles white as she moves away to clutch the edge of the worktop.

A lump rises in my throat. “Hey kid, I’m Dan.” I manage a smile. “I’m not just the gardener, I’m an old friend of your mum’s.”

Rose tilts her head. “Wow, the tea must have worked. You’re actually telling the truth.” Her sarcasm is in full swing. “I think friend is a bit of stretch, though.”

“I’m Angelos.” He stares back at me as if studying me with the same quiet scrutiny I’m giving him. Does he see the same resemblance?

My gaze slides to Rose. Her eyes mist over, a glassy sheen like condensation on a cold windowpane.

“How old are you, kid?”

“Thirteen next week.”

My heart stutters. I do the math. Rose doesn’t need to confirm it. I know the truth. I feel it with every fibre in my being. Every emotion swirls in my gut like a tornado churning up my insides.

I’ve seen photographs of him, but it’s only now, being with him in the flesh that I’ve put it all together.

My heart thuds against my ribs, fighting to escape the chaos. I rub my temples, my whole body needing to lash out at something, but my head screaming to stay calm in front of the kid.

My kid.

Angelos opens the fridge door. “She’s never mentioned you before.”

My eyes lock with Rose’s. “Funny, she never mentioned you either.”

“Mum, can I choose where we order from?”

“Sure.” Her gaze doesn’t leave mine. A tear hangs from her lash, a wrinkle in her brow. So many unspoken words conveyed in a single look.

Angelos opens a drawer and pulls out a Chinese takeaway menu. “Are you staying for dinner, Dan?”

Rose’s voice croaks, “I think Dan has to go.”

I bristle my spine. “Chinese food sounds good, actually.” I match her glare. My fist clenches around the packet of gum in my jeans. But not even a joint would calm this rage inside me.

“Can I place the order, Mum?” Angelos grins, oblivious to the storm brewing between us. “Mum always orders the same thing. Sweet and sour chicken, plain chow mein.” He wrinkles his nose. “Boring.”

“Sweet and sour, huh?” I raise an eyebrow. “Shocker.” The sweet girl I knew is now a sour woman who hates me so much. She’s kept this secret all these years.

Rose’s fingers tighten around the edge of the counter. “Dan… I…”

“What do you order, Dan?” Angelos says, still blissfully unaware of the razor-wire tension between us.

“I’ll have the same as your mum. I'm feeling a little sour right now.”

Rose sucks in a breath, her hand trembling as she gathers the mugs from the worktop and rinses them in the sink.

Angelos shrugs. “Boring, but okay.” He wanders off to place the order, leaving just me and Rose in the kitchen.

The second he’s gone, she’s on me. “Are you out of your mind?” She hisses, stepping closer.

I tilt my head. “Why? Because I want to sit at a table with my son?”

Her breath shudders out, and for a second, vulnerability flashes in her eyes before she blinks it away. “He’s not yours.”

“Now who’s full of bullshit?” My voice drops raw, barely more than a whisper. “You’ve had thirteen years, Rose. Were you ever going to tell me?”

She flinches. It’s a small thing, a tiny crack in her armour, but I see it.

I step closer, lowering my voice. “Do you know what it’s like to look at someone and see yourself staring back? To know before a single word is spoken?”

Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t pull away.

I let the silence stretch, let the weight of it settle between us before I finally say, “We need to talk, Rose.”

She swallows hard, then turns away, busying herself with the pots. “Not tonight.”

I exhale slowly, running a hand through my hair. “When?”

“I only have him for tonight, and then he’s back at school tomorrow. Please, Dan.”

“Tomorrow?”

She nods once, but I don’t miss the way her hands tremble as she puts the mugs in the cupboard. A tiny tremble, barely noticeable, but I see it. Just like I see every other damn thing she’s trying to hide.

Thirteen years.

I grind my teeth so hard my jaw aches. My whole damn world has just shifted beneath my feet. I scrub a hand over my face, trying to force some kind of rational thought through the roar in my head. I should walk out, take a breath, get my head on straight before I do something stupid.

But I can’t.

Because my kid is in the next room picking out food from a Chinese takeaway menu like this is just another normal fucking night.

And because Rose—Rose, who I would have once died for—never told me. Never gave me the choice.

I lean against the counter, watching her like I’m trying to crack a code. “You weren’t going to say anything, were you?”

She inhales sharply but doesn’t turn around. “Dan⁠—”

“No, go on. Tell me how you were planning to never tell me.”

Her shoulders stiffen. “He can never be yours.”

The words land like a punch to the gut. Not because she doesn’t want me to be his dad—but because she’s convinced I can’t. I straighten, ice crawling through my veins. “You don’t get to decide that.”

She finally turns, her blue eyes flashing with anger and guilt. “Like hell I don’t. I raised him, Dan.”

“And I didn’t even get a chance.” My voice is quieter now, but there’s an edge to it I know she hears.

Her lips part, but nothing comes out.

I push off the counter, shaking my head. “You should’ve told me.”

She exhales, looking away. “And you should have been honest with me about who you were, but instead, you went on a killing spree, assassinating my father and his men.”

My mouth fills with acid. “Those men raped and murdered my mother. You’re right. You were just part of the mission.” I spit out the words, wanting to hurt her like I’m hurting now. I never intended to fall for the mission, but I fell hard for the spina velenosa, much to my poor judgement.

Her face hardens, erasing the girl I knew. “I know exactly what my part was, Dan. I don’t need you to confirm what I already know. But know that I’ve had my own mission these last thirteen years. And it involves keeping my son safe.” She pulls a knife from the block behind me. The cool tip of the blade digs under my chin. “If you or anyone threatens to hurt me or my son, I won’t hesitate to use whatever weapon I have at my disposal to protect what’s mine.”

I lower my voice so only she can hear. “He’s mine too.”

Her throat bobs, but she holds her ground. “I told you, he can never be yours. His life depends on it.” Her eyes snap to mine, sharp and furious, like the knife at my chin.

I step back, dragging a hand through my hair. “Your husband?” It all becomes clear now.

She places the knife back in the block and nods. “He would kill us both if he ever found out the truth.”

My chest tightens. “I’d never let that happen.” We stare at each other for a beat too long. All this time, she kept him a secret to keep him safe in her world. The woman before me is a fucking warrior and I don’t know if I want to spank her ass raw or make love to her all over again.

Needing to touch her, I close the distance between us and wrap her hair around my fingers.

She tilts her head, her mouth parting as if submitting to me, a tremble in her breath.

It takes every ounce of strength I have not to take what I need. My emotions warring in my head, part of me needing to devour her, the other wanting to destroy her. Our panting breaths mingle together. “We’ll figure this out another time. But I am staying for dinner.”

Her jaw tightens, and for a second, I think she’s going to tell me to leave.

But then Angelos’ voice drifts in from the next room. “Mum, do you want the salt and pepper chips you like?”

Rose closes her eyes for a beat, exhaling slowly. “Yes, love.”

Dinner feels like walking a tightrope.

Angelos chats easily at the table, unaware that we’re in the eye of the storm. I observe him, noting the way his nose scrunches when he laughs—same as mine. The way he shovels food onto his fork without looking—same as Dom used to. Every tiny detail is another punch to the gut, another reminder of how much I’ve missed.

Rose barely eats. She keeps glancing between us, like she’s waiting for the world to crack open and swallow the dinner table whole.

“So, Angelos,” I say, leaning back in my chair, playing it cool. “What do you do when you’re not picking out top-tier Chinese takeaways?”

He shrugs, slurping down a noodle. “Football. PlayStation. Hanging out with my mates.”

I raise my brow. “Football, huh? You any good?”

His eyes light up. “I play centre-mid for my school team. We made it to the cup finals.”

Pride flares in my chest, even though I have no damn right to feel it. That’s my kid.

“What team do you support?” I ask, already bracing myself.

“City.”

I choke on my drink. “City?”

His brow furrows. “What? You a United fan or something?”

“Course I am.” I shake my head in mock disappointment. This is devastating news.

Angelos grins, pointing a fork at me. “You realise City’s better, right?”

Rose groans, rubbing her temples. “Here we go…”

I fold my arms. “Better? You think Pep’s got anything on Sir Alex?”

“Sir Alex retired years ago,” he scoffs. “Meanwhile, City’s won five out of the last six league titles.”

The kid’s got stats. I like it.

Rose sighs. “If you two start debating football history, I’m leaving the room.”

Angelos grins. “Wanna settle it on FIFA?”

I glance at Rose. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, but she doesn’t object. “Fine,” I say, pushing back my chair. “But if I win, you admit United’s the better team.”

Angelos laughs. “Yeah, not happening.”

We move to the living room, and he fires up the PlayStation, tossing me a controller. “You know how to play, or am I about to destroy you?”

I smirk, cracking my knuckles. “Let’s just say I’ve got a bit of experience.”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes. “Like my dad says, all grown men think they’re good at FIFA, but they’re actually terrible.”

I go still for a fraction of a second.

Like his dad says.

I glance at Rose, who’s hovering in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself. A muscle ticks in my jaw, but I force a smile. “Do you see your dad?”

“He writes me letters.” Angelos looks back at his mum. “He works away, doesn’t he, Mum?”

“It’s all right, Angelos. Dan knows where your dad is.” She clears the plates from the table, busying herself.

Angelos frowns and looks down at his controller. “He’s getting out soon.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I’ll be able to see him again. Mum doesn’t let me visit prison. We don’t talk about him.”

“You want to see him again?”

“Duh, he’s my dad.”

I swallow the bile in my throat, my knuckles white as I grip the controller. I want to scream and tell him I’m his fucking dad, not some scumbag who was running a casino and fucking every piece of ass with a pulse while money laundering and drug dealing.

Instead, I stay quiet, focusing on my breathing as if all my years in service were so I can keep my cool at this moment.

We start the match, and for a while, the only sounds in the room are the frantic clicking of buttons and the occasional curse when one of us misses a goal.

Angelos is good. He plays like Dom used to—cocky and fast, like he’s got something to prove. But I spent a lot of nights in my twenties playing FIFA with the lads, and I’m not about to let an almost-thirteen-year-old embarrass me.

“Ninetieth minute,” I taunt as I score the winning goal. “And United takes the game.”

Angelos groans, throwing his head back. “That was pure luck.”

I laugh. “Nah, that was skill.”

He eyes me, then cracks a grin. “All right, best two out of three.”

Rose sighs, but I catch the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

After another two games, I let the kid win, wanting to see him smile.

Angelos yawns as he stretches, rubbing his eyes.

Rose checks the time. “You’ve got school tomorrow, so off to bed.”

He groans but doesn’t argue, standing and tossing his PlayStation controller onto the coffee table. He glances at me. “You staying?”

Rose stiffens.

“Dunno yet,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Depends on your mum.”

Angelos shrugs like he doesn’t care either way. “Night then.”

I want to say something fatherly, something that matters—but my throat feels tight, like my own words are strangling me.

Rose ruffles his hair, and he bats her hand away with a sleepy grumble. “Night, love,” she murmurs. “I’ll come and tuck you in soon.”

“Night, Mum.” He gives her a kiss on her cheek and trudges up the stairs.

I swallow hard as he disappears into the bathroom at the top of the stairs. I should be the one making sure he brushes his teeth properly. I should have been the one checking his room for imaginary monsters and pulling the covers up to his chin.

I should have been there for all of it. My fingers flex against my thighs. I feel unsteady, like I don’t fit in my own skin.

Rose lingers by the doorway, listening for the sound of his electric toothbrush.

The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.

“I should go,” I say quietly.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at me. Just keeps staring up the stairs.

I rake a hand through my hair. “Rose⁠—”

She spins to face me, her eyes flashing with a warning. “Not here,” she whispers, cutting me off.

I glance up at the bathroom door that isn’t fully closed.

“Right.”

We can’t do this now.

But the air is charged between us. I can feel the words she wants to say hanging there, taunting me. I step in closer, just enough to hear her breath hitch. “Let me stay.”

Her lips part, her body swaying slightly towards mine before she catches herself. “Dan⁠—”

“I just wanna be near him,” I murmur. “That’s all.”

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. When she opens them, she’s unreadable again. “You can take the couch,” she whispers.

Relief crashes through me, but I don’t show it. I just nod, shoving my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching for her.

She turns away first. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

As she disappears down the hall, I sit back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

My son’s just up the stairs.

And for the first time in thirteen years, I have something worth fighting for. Whatever happened between Rose and me doesn’t matter now. He’s all that matters. My blood. My son.

Rose hands me a blanket. “Goodnight, Dan.”

I reach out and grab a hold of her elbow. “Rose.” I pull her towards me, my other hand cupping her face as she rests her forehead against mine, inhaling a long ragged breath.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers before trying to pull away, but I wrap my fingers around her neck, not ready to let her go. For a brief, fragile moment, it feels like I belong here. Like maybe—just maybe—this isn’t completely impossible.

I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

Because my flesh and blood is upstairs.

And I’ll burn the world down before I let anyone take him from me.

18

ROSE

“You’re up early.” Dan stretches his arms as he walks into my kitchen wearing nothing but black boxer shorts, delicious ink and a dazzling half sleepy smile.

My heart zaps to life. The sight of him better than any morning coffee. “So are you.”

“Your couch wasn’t the comfiest.” He reaches around me and pinches a small square piece of toast from my plate. His scent surrounds me, making me dizzy, the scent that’s just him, a hint of his aftershave, fruity gum, and something intoxicating and manly.

“Nobody forced you to stay here.” I reluctantly grab another mug from the cupboard and pour him a coffee.

“What’s the plan today?” He takes another bite of his toast, or my toast, and chews it around his mouth as he eyes me. He seems brighter this morning, like he’s had a weight lifted. Meanwhile, I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. And he’s sitting at the top of it eating my toast.

“My plan is to iron Angelos’ clothes for the week, pack him a bag and get him to school before eight thirty, then I need to get to the airport. I have a flight at noon with a layover today.”

“I didn’t think you were working today.”

My eyes narrow. “You checked my flight schedule?”

He shrugs and reaches for another piece of toast.

I bat his hand away. “I’ll make you some if you’re hungry.”

“No, I’ll make you a proper breakfast. With your condition, you need more than a slice of toast.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m on call Monday to Friday when I’m not already working. It’s why Angelos is in boarding school since he went to secondary school, so I can work and not have to worry about childcare.”

“Where are you flying to?”

“Rome.”

He tenses. “I don’t want you going there.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve asked specifically for Rome because I get to visit Mamma while she’s in hospital.”

“Rose.” He closes the distance between us and wraps his large hands around my arms, digging into the fleshy part around my biceps. “It’s not safe for you to be there.”

“How do you know? What the hell do you do, anyway?” I push against his chest, annoyed with how my palms tingle as they press against his skin and chest hair. “Don’t bother answering that. I won’t believe whatever you tell me.”

He places both hands on the worktop behind me, caging me in. “Right now, my only mission is to keep you and my son safe. That’s all you need to know. And I don’t want you flying to Rome. Damn it.”

His lip twitches as his face is inches from mine, his eyes darkening with anger but also pooling with something else that threatens to take me under. It would be so easy to lose myself in his eyes like I did before. But I’m not that girl. He took my innocence, crushed my fairy tales and left me hopeless. The only thing that kept me going was my son.

“I have to go, Dan. I need to see my mother.” My voice wobbles. “I don’t know how long she has left. Surely you can understand that.”

He closes his eyes while grinding his back teeth. “Fine. But I’m coming with you. Book me a seat, would you?”

“I’m not your PA or a travel agent.” I roll my eyes as he reaches for his jacket, then opens his wallet and slides out a credit card.

“Just get me on the same flight.” His eyes narrow, as if daring me to give him any more lip.

“You hate flying.” I pinch my brow, trying to fathom this man.

“Yeah, I know.” His fingertip sweeps a loose strand of hair from my cheek and tucks it behind my ear as he gazes into my eyes. “But I’d fly to the ends of the earth to keep you safe.”

I swallow, my throat dry. “I thought you hated me.”

“I do.” His thumb runs along my bottom lip. “I hate you like I hate flying. But it’s something I have to endure.”

“I’m the one who has to endure you. Do you know what it’s like to look at my son and see the person I loathe every day?”

He cracks a smile. “You don’t loathe me that much. You practically called him the same name as me.”

“His name has nothing to do with you. I called him Angelos because he was the angel who gave me hope when I had none. You are the angel of death, leaving nothing but destruction in your wake.” I push against his chest again, but he’s unmovable. “Are you gonna get out of my space? I have stuff to do and I need to book an Uber.”

He steps back, running a hand through his short brown hair and fisting it. “No need for an Uber. I’m driving my son to school.”

My chest cracks. It’s the most natural thing to say, only he’ll never be able to be his father. “Will you stop saying that. He could hear you.” I turn back to him. “And put a shirt on, would you?”

“Fine. But you need to tell him soon.”

“If you want to be a parent so much, you can start by ironing his school uniform.” My lips curve into a smile as I strut out of the kitchen like I’ve just won a game. At least I got out of the ironing. With his credit card in hand, my smile widens as a few mischievous thoughts run through my head.

“All set?” Dan says as he loads Angelos’ bag into the boot of his car.

“Nice car,” Angelos says.

“You can ride in the front if you like. Your Mum can sit in the back.” He quirks a grin in my direction.

“I didn’t want to sit next to you, anyway.” I slide into the back, behind the driver’s seat, while Angelos walks around the front of the car.

Dan holds my door. “This way you can stab me in the back like you’re used to.” He closes my door and slides behind the wheel.

I want to bite back with an equally venomous line, but Angelos jumps into the passenger seat in front.

The anger bubbling beneath my skin subsides when Dan reaches over Angelos and pulls his seatbelt across.

“Dude, I’m twelve, not two.” Angelos takes the clip from him and inserts it into the holster.

Dan chuckles and I can’t stop the smile from pushing my cheeks up and warming my heart at their interactions. We’re almost like a regular family.

Almost.

“So when’s your birthday, mate? What day?” Dan says as he drives down the road.

“Next Monday.”

“What are you doing for your birthday?”

Angelos shrugs. “I think I’m gonna hang with my mates at school.”

“I thought your mum would want to see you on your birthday.” Dan glances at me through the rear view mirror.

I let out a sigh. “I do, but Angelos said it’s lame to go out with your mother, so…”

“Mum, you said you were okay with me staying at school.”

Dan taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “You know, when I was your age, my mum wasn’t around anymore. She passed away when I was twelve and I’d do anything now to have dinner with her one last time.”

“Bruh, that’s some serious guilt trip.”

Dan chuckles. “How about me and your mum pick you up Monday and I promise to make it not suck?” He nods his head and I hear him whisper. “Your mum’s kinda lonely in the week. It gets her out of the house.”

“Sure.”

“So who’s your favourite player at City?”

I switch off as they talk about football and stare out the window as Dan drives through the country roads now we’re out of the city. He keeps saying I betrayed him, but he’s the one who betrayed me. Our whole past was built on a lie. He acted like my guardian angel as he rescued my bag from a thief.

I swear that was staged now. It was the perfect way for us to meet and for him to gain my trust. But he needn’t have bothered going to the trouble. One smile from him and I was smitten. Butterflies would multiply in my stomach every time he looked at me, and once we had our first kiss, I was addicted. He says I’m the spina velenosa, but he drip fed me tidbits like a master training his dog.

He trained me well, too, because I told him whatever it was he wanted to know. His questions about my family weren’t so obvious, worked into general conversation, so they appeared innocent enough. It was espionage at its finest. And he got his rocks off at the same time. He and his brother probably had a good laugh at my expense. I was so easy in more ways than one.

The sun shines on my face and I close my eyes, transported back in time to the girl who believed in happy endings…

I clutch my book against me while I scan the Villa Borghese, looking for Dan. My heart lurches in my chest as he walks towards me, his smile warm, but the ink on his neck making him seem dark and dangerous.

I lift my phone to my face and check my reflection in the camera, pulling my hair over my cheek on one side. My stomach bubbles with excitement and I rush towards him in the rose garden. We’ve been meeting here every day since I was almost mugged last week.

“Hey, how are you?”

“Better now.” His voice is smooth, dipped in that low timbre that curls around my spine. His gaze trails down to the book in my arms. “Let me guess… Romeo and Juliet again?”

I blush, hugging it tighter. “Don’t judge. It’s for my essay.”

“I’m not judging.” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers, walking slowly beside me as we enter the rows of blushing pink blooms. “English literature I’m guessing?”

“Literature class. We study all the greats—Shakespeare, Dante, Virgil. I want to teach literature. Share stories that matter… not just the ones everyone pretends to understand.”

We stroll through the rose garden, gravel crunching under our feet, the scent of blossoms clinging to the warm summer air, my dress fluttering with the breeze.

I peek at his hand near mine, our fingers just inches apart. I don’t mean to, but my pinky sways slightly towards his.

His does the same.

Our fingers brush lightly. The contact sends a flutter through my chest that I feel all the way to my toes.

“So what’s your essay about?” he asks, a small curve lifting the corner of his lips.

“I’m exploring loyalty—how love can pull you away from where you come from.”

Dan hums low in his throat, glancing sideways at me. “You think Juliet made the right choice?”

My fingers trail along the top of the low stone wall beside us. “She followed her heart. She loved Romeo more than her name. More than her bloodline. What other choice did she have?”

He gives me a look. One of those unreadable Dan expressions. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“It’s not.” I shake my head. “It’s painful. Loving someone you shouldn’t. Someone your family would never accept.”

His jaw tightens just slightly.

I keep talking, not daring to stop now. “But love like that… it changes you. Makes you braver. Even if it breaks you.”

We walk in silence for a few paces, our hands brushing at our sides, the leaves rustling softly above us. Then he hooks his little finger around mine like a secret promise whispered between our skin.

My breath halts. This man is still an enigma to me, but our secret meetings have become the highlight of my day. The way he cared for me and rescued my bag, he’s like my guardian angel. An English guardian angel with the most beautiful British accent. It’s no secret that my family would want me to marry an Italian. I wonder if they could ever accept a regular man like Dan.

I hold on to his pinky and smile inwardly at my silly thoughts and how I’m getting ahead of myself, but it’s the hopeless romantic in me. Maybe this is my fairy tale.

“I used to wonder,” I whisper, “if love could ever be stronger than fear. But I think it is.”

He stops walking.

I turn, heart thudding, and he looks at me like he’s seeing right through the layers I keep carefully stitched together.

“My hopeless romantic.” He leans in just enough to reach past me and plucks a single pink rose from the bush beside us and carefully strips the thorns with his nail.

My breath catches.

“Fiore mio,” he murmurs, then lifts a hand to my hair, brushing it behind my ear and tucks the flower just above the bruising I’ve hidden. His fingertips graze my hairline, then pause. His hand stills.

I hold my breath as his brow furrows, and he leans closer as if getting a better look.

The warmth in his eyes vanishes. Replaced by dark clouds swirling around his pupils. “Who did this to you?” His voice is low, like gravel and gunpowder. His eyes stay locked on mine.

I’d been careful. I thought it was covered.

“Who did this to you?” he asks again, this time with controlled rage simmering underneath.

“I’m fine.”

“Rose.” His jaw tightens. “Tell me.”

“I—I fell.” I bat his hand away and look down at my sandals, unable to look him in the eye.

He exhales slowly, like he’s reining himself in. “Don’t lie to me. Not about this.” His hand is still hovering near my face, but not touching, like he’s afraid to hurt me more. “I’ll kill the bastard. I’ll kill anyone who lays a hand on you.”

My eyes sting, but I blink the tears back. “It’s nothing.” I step to the side, allowing a couple to pass. “Please don’t make a scene.”

“Was it your brother?” His voice lowers further, like a threat he’s holding back.

I shake my head fast. “No. Elio would never hurt me. Never.”

Dan’s eyes narrow. “Then who?”

I bite my lip. My throat closes up, shame clawing at my neck.

“Whoever it is, you don’t have to protect them, Rose. Tell me.”

I whisper the words like they might shatter if I say them louder. “My father.”

Everything about him stills—his expression, his breathing, the soft breeze rustling his shirt. Then he blinks once, and that darkness in his eyes turns deadly.

The rose he placed in my hair trembles in the breeze. The petals brush my cheek.

He touches the bruise with a gentleness I didn’t know he had. His thumb grazes just beneath it, not applying pressure, but I still flinch. “How often?”

“Not… all the time.” I tug my cardigan sleeve over my hand. “Mostly when he drinks. Or when he thinks someone’s disrespected him.”

I look away, down at the gravel path. “Last night, he was yelling at Mamma. Calling her names. I said something. Told him to stop.”

Dan doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. I can feel the storm brewing under his skin, anger rolling off him in waves.

“He came at her,” I whisper, “and I stepped in the way. That’s all…”

His fists curl at his sides, knuckles white. “Don’t dismiss it like it’s nothing.” He curls a finger under my chin and lifts my head, forcing me to look into his dark eyes through my watery gaze. “My brave little flower.”

“Dan,” I whisper.

Birds sing above us. The warm breeze stirs the roses. And suddenly it’s all too much—the pressure building in my chest, the ache in my throat, the way his eyes are still on me as if he’s trying to figure out how broken I really am.

He exhales, like he’s trying to keep the fury from boiling over. “I’ll kill anyone who hurts you, fiore mio.” The emotion in his voice is so raw it hurts. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before. Not Elio. Not anyone. His fingers slide behind my ear, curling around the rose he placed there. His eyes soften as they meet mine.

“You’re stronger than anyone I know.” He dips his head and presses a kiss to my temple, then peppers kisses along my cheek.

Tingles bloom low in my belly, a strange sensation that I’ve never felt before. His lips are gentle and warm, like the sun kissing my face on a hot day.

He reaches the corner of my lips and pulls away, just an inch, to look into my eyes as if searching for consent.

I reach my hand to his neck and curl my fingers into the back of his short hair, wordlessly telling him how much I want this. I need this. Need him.

He scans our surroundings and guides me with my elbow. We take the few steps behind a rose bush, under the canopy of a stone pine. Tucked in the shadows, he swoops down and claims my lips, his mouth full of unspoken promises.

I kiss him back like it’s the first time I’ve been allowed to want something just for me.

His hand brushes my jaw, then my neck, then he cups my face like I’m a fragile and rare flower. His thumb catches a tear before it falls.

“I see you,” he whispers against my lips. “All of you. And you’re the most brave and most incredible woman I know.”

I lean in, deepening the kiss. His hand curls into my hair, and I melt into him, the world falling away until there’s only the scent of roses and the feel of him holding me like I’m worth protecting.

He called me his flower.

And for the first time, I believe I can bloom.

For the first time in a long time, I feel safe.

And for the first time ever… I feel wanted.

The bumpy gravel road that leads to the school gates jars me back to the present.

I blink and unfurl my fingers from the seatbelt at my chest. The air feels cooler now, harsher somehow.

That was then. This is now.

I open my eyes fully, letting the memory slip back into the past where it belongs—along with all the bruises, the roses, and the promises that were never kept. I huff. Well, he kept one promise. He killed the man who hurt me, my father, before disappearing into the night.

I let out a heavy sigh and push the button, bringing the window down. My fingers tap the security code into the keypad, waiting as the iron gates groan open.

“Wow, this place really is like Fort Knox.” Dan drives through, keeping to the five-mile-per-hour speed limit as we circle around the main building—a grand, Gothic-style manor with ivy-covered stone walls and arched stained-glass windows that belong in a period drama. The kind of place built on old money and strict rules.

At the back of the estate, the student accommodation sits in neat rows—newly built red-brick dorms with modern glass-panelled entrances, a sports hall, and a shared games room. It’s like a miniature campus tucked away from the real world.

“This is mine.” Angelos points to his building.

“Want me to come in with you?” I say, unbuckling my belt.

Dan climbs out of the car and opens the boot.

“It’s okay, Mum. I’m just gonna drop my bag in and get to class.”

I wrap my arms around him and kiss the top of his head. “I love you. Have a great week. I’ll see you soon, yeah.”

“Yeah, love you, Mum.”

Dan stands awkwardly, shuffling on his feet. “I’ll see if I can get you a United shirt for your birthday, hey.”

“Bruh, you might find one at a charity shop.”

Dan chuckles and holds out his hand.

Angelos taps it. “Laters.” Then he takes his bag from Dan and runs into his building.

I rub the ache in my chest like I do every time I have to leave him here—always wondering if I’m doing the right thing by him, but he’s getting the best education money can buy, and it’s safer for him here than being at home. I can’t be with him twenty-four seven.

I stare through the window of the boarding house and wait until he’s signed in.

Dan must sense my anxiety as I twist the bangle at my wrist. He places a hand on my back over my flight attendant jacket. “He’s a great kid.”

“He is.” I look down and walk around to the passenger seat of Dan’s car.

He doesn’t speak as he drives back to the city.

“This isn’t the way to the airport.”

His tight lips and firm jaw remind me of the man I knew before. One kiss from me and I could soften all his hard edges.

“I’ve just got to nip to my place and change.”

“Are you really going to come to pick up Angelos with me on his birthday?”

He takes his eyes off the road for a second just to glare at me. “I’ve missed twelve birthdays. I’m not missing another single fucking thing where he’s concerned. Whatever it is. Parents’ meeting, football match. If the kid so much as sneezes, I want to know about it.”

19

DAN

Ipark the car next to Dom’s Range Rover, the engine ticking as it cools. “You coming in or waiting here?”

“I’ll come inside.” Rose unclips her seatbelt and slips out of the car, fiddling with the pink scarf around her neck. The same scarf I want to choke her with while I fuck her brains out. “What are you looking at?”

A smile curves my lips as I lock the car and climb the stairs to my apartment. Maybe I don’t want to choke her completely, just enough to heighten her orgasm when she submits to me. There’s something about her in this uniform that makes me all kinds of crazy.

I unlock the door and step inside, carrying my holdall, only to be greeted with laughter and voices. Three women are in my kitchen. “This is a nice surprise.”

Rose walks in behind me and stops dead. Wide eyes take in the scene. “What the hell is this?” she mutters under her breath and glares at me with a tight lip.

“Ladies,” I say, holding back a chuckle. “This is Rose.”

“It’s Grace,” she says through clenched teeth as she taps her name badge.

The girls all stare as if I just got my date’s name wrong, and I feel like I’m about to be lynched by the mob.

“Hi, I’m Poppy,” Dom’s girl says as she ties her red hair up in a messy bun.

Lilly waves from the fridge, rubbing her very pregnant belly with her other hand.

Violet glances up from the coffee machine she’s failing to operate and eyes Rose from head to toe. “Sup.”

Rose doesn’t move. She folds her arms across her chest, chin tilted up. “Nice setup you’ve got. Do you always keep a backup harem in your kitchen?”

I choke on a laugh, but the girls—well, Poppy and Lilly—just burst out laughing.

Rose stares at Lilly’s large belly. “You won’t be laughing when he disappears and leaves you to raise your child…” Eyes dart to mine, full of venom. “Alone.”

I give her the same glare back because that’s not fair, and she knows it.

“Oh my gosh,” Poppy says. “No, no. We’re all taken.”

Lilly smiles kindly. “Don’t worry, Dan’s not as charming as he thinks he is.”

“Oi,” I shout.

Rose gives me a dry look. “He’s a better liar than charmer, that’s for sure.” She says it like a joke, but her arms are crossed and her glare could curdle cream.

I can’t stop the smug smile from forming. Seems my flower has a jealous streak.

Violet snorts. “Ooh, I like her.”

“I’m Lilly,” she says, one hand on her lower back and the other resting on her bump. “Due in two months and about to eat someone if Shane doesn’t bring food back soon.”

Rose nods, taking it all in. “Congratulations. You look ready to burst.”

Lilly laughs. “Tell me about it. I can’t even see my own feet.”

Poppy pushes off the counter, examining Rose more closely. “You look familiar. Did you used to work at the London casino? The posh one in the East End?”

Rose freezes and glances back at me. My spine bristles as if I feel everything she does, her bright blue eyes widening like someone just yanked the emergency slide mid-flight and is about to spill all her secrets.

“I’d hardly call the casino posh,” I shout from the table, trying to break the tension as I unpack a few things from my bag.

Rose fiddles with the hem of her flight attendant jacket. “I’ve never worked in London.”

She’s not lying, just omitting the part where she was married to the owner.

Poppy blinks. “Oh. You must have one of those faces.”

Rose shrugs. “Apparently.”

Lilly waves a hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it, Grace. Everyone knows Poppy’s face. She was on Crimewatch TV. Made the most wanted list.”

“Really?” Rose looks at me as if for confirmation.

“My brother didn’t know what he was letting himself in for, did he, Pops?”

Rose huffs and crosses her arms over her pink blouse. “Probably after the reward money, if he’s anything like you.”

Poppy isn’t the only one watching Rose closely now, but it’s Violet who speaks next, lips curling. “So… are you and Dan…?”

Rose lets out a humourless laugh. “Definitely not.”

That one lands like a slap to my face.

“She’s just here for the view,” I say as I pull off my top and walk into my room for a clean shirt.

Buttoning up my shirt, I hear the front door click and the guys enter as I walk down the hall.

Dom’s balancing coffee trays, Shane’s carrying a brown bag as if it’s a newborn, and Kane’s got that look like he already regrets coming.

“Breakfast is here,” Shane announces. “Extra sausage, extra cheese, hash browns, and the gherkins you wanted.”

Lilly lights up. “I love you more every day.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead as she tears into the sausage muffin like a woman possessed.

Dom shoots me a quick look before nodding at Rose. “You must be the reason he ditched us last night.” He says it lightly, but there’s an edge of interest in his tone.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, last night was eventful.”

Dom slides the coffees onto the counter. “I didn’t know you’d be here. Have you eaten?” He looks between me and Rose. “I’m sure we can spare a few hash browns and egg muffins.”

Lilly mumbles with a mouth full of food. “Not a chance in hell am I sharing mine.”

“We’re good, man. Been up since the crack of dawn.” I nod at Rose. “This one woke me up.”

Dom gives me a look. “Oh, yeah?”

Rose screws her face in disgust. “He had a date with the ironing board.”

The guys chuckle at my expense.

“Rope. Chair.” I raise my brow at Dom, who wipes the smirk from his face when he remembers the photograph I took of him after Poppy tied him up.

Shane pats my back. “I thought you were coming out with us last night to celebrate Lil’s becoming a qualified nurse?”

“Something came up. Did you have a good night?” I slip a clean tie around my neck under my collar.

“I had one too many mocktails and spent the rest of the night nursing a bottle of Gaviscon.”

Rose smiles warmly. “Oh, don’t remind me. I had terrible acid reflux when I was having my son. I practically lived on that stuff.”

I rub at the ache in my chest, wishing I were there with her. Bitterness coats my tongue, knowing she was with someone else.

“Right,” Lilly says, dipping her hash brown into a pot of ketchup. “How old’s your son?”

“Almost thirteen.” Rose glances at me, then back to the girls.

They all stare at her as if she’s grown another head.

Violet practically chokes on her bagel. “No way. You must have had him when you were like fifteen or something.”

“I was eighteen.” Rose straightens her spine as if proud, like our son is her greatest achievement, and my chest swells with admiration for the woman before me.

Dom raises his brow as he looks between us as if he’s just done the math.

I nod towards the bedroom and hope he follows as I change into a clean pair of trousers.

Dom shuts the door behind him. “You weren’t kidding when you said last night was eventful, were you?”

“He’s mine.” I button up my trousers and sit on the bed, scroll through my phone to a snap I took of one of Rose’s family photos in her living room.

It’s a recent image of Angelos.

Dom’s jaw slackens as he looks between the phone and me. “He’s a City supporter?”

I snatch the phone back and smile at my son in last season’s City shirt. “You find out you’re an uncle and that’s your first response?”

“He looks like you,” Dom says, quieter now. “Same eyes. Same resting bitch face.”

“Cheers.”

He nudges me. “You all right?”

I shake my head. “Not really. I’ve missed almost thirteen years, Dom. I don’t know where to even start.” A sigh escapes as I run my hand over my face, tired from little to no sleep last night on Rose’s couch.

“You start by educating the lad on football teams. Maybe throw in a United shirt.” He chuckles and knocks my shoulder with his. “You start by showing up. Which, by the way, you’re already doing.” He pauses. “Have you told him yet?”

“Not yet. I can’t. Not while that arsehole she married’s still sniffing around.”

Dom’s face hardens. “Need help burying a body?”

“I think I might.”

“You know we’re all here for whatever you need. Even Shane. He might be preoccupied with Lilly and the baby, but I’m sure he can lock Magnus up if we need him out of the picture,” he says with a grin.

“Magnus’s in Rome at the minute. I’m heading back out there. Matteo’s meeting me today, but I’m gonna need you to keep tabs on the boy and Rose. I can’t be with her twenty-four seven. Especially if I’m still in Rome with Matteo.”

“I got your back. And when you’re ready, tell the kid. He deserves to know who’s got his back, too.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah.” I throw on my suit jacket and fold fresh clothes into my holdall.

Walking into the kitchen, I grab my keys from the counter. “Right, I’ve changed. We’ve got to head out.”

Rose stands, smoothing her skirt again. The way she wears her uniform is like a coat of armour shielding her true self.

Lilly’s eyes soften as she watches her. “It was lovely to meet you.”

“You too. Good luck with the baby.” Her smile is genuine this time.

“Thanks. And, uh, whatever’s going on with you two…” She glances between us. “I hope it works out.”

Rose doesn’t reply. Just walks towards the door like it’s suddenly urgent.

As we step into the hallway, I murmur, “You okay?”

She shrugs, not looking at me. “Fine.”

“Cheer up. Could be worse.” I give her my widest grin. “At least I don’t have a harem.”

Her lips curve with a hint of a smile. “I’m actually impressed you have friends.”

“How did you like Poppy?”

“She was nice. Why?”

I shrug a shoulder. “No reason. She’s marrying my brother.”

Rose snorts. “In that case, I feel sorry for her.” Her lips lift in the corner. “She’ll have to put up with you as her brother-in-law.”

I let out a small laugh. Because Rose doesn’t know it yet, but she’s part of our family now, just like Poppy is.

We get into the car and drive off, needing to talk, but I just don’t know where to begin. For now I stay silent, the atmosphere charged with everything unspoken.

20

DAN

Iloosen my tie as I sit in economy next to a mother and a baby who’s already started screaming and we haven’t even taken off yet. It’s gonna be a long fucking flight.

“I’m sorry, sir.” The woman bounces the kid on her knee. “She’s teething.”

“Don’t worry bout it.” I dab the moisture on my forehead and lean back in the seat, focusing on my breathing and not the hundred million things buzzing around my head.

I have a son.

A fucking quick-witted, smart-ass, amazing son. A smile curves my lips as I think about him and I pull my phone from my pocket and text Dom.

Can you get me tickets to City’s game on Monday? I think they’re playing a friendly.

You know Dad would turn in his grave, right?

My shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

I know, but the kid likes what the kid likes.

And you, as his father, need to educate him.

All in good time, brother. We need to get him on side first.

So how many tickets you want?

Me, the kid and Rose. Get yourself one if you want to come.

I’ll see what I can do.

I send off another text to Magnus

Flying back to Rome. Still no leads.

My patience is wearing thin, Bianchi. I was told you were the best in the business, but I’m thinking I could do a better job myself.

Be my guest, but your wife clearly doesn’t want to be found. Could she have moved to the States?

You should know. That’s what I’m paying you for.

The next text is to my cousin Matteo.

I’ll meet you at the airport this afternoon.

I slide my phone into my jacket pocket and grip the armrest as the plane approaches the runway. The baby’s screams turn into shouts from my comrades as the helicopter comes crashing down…

The screech of rotors dying. Metal tearing apart.

Blood in my mouth.

Voices screaming for help before the smoke swallowed them whole.

I blink, the plane tilting, and for a second I'm back on the helicopter—trapped. Alone.

“Sir?” a flight attendant says.

I glance around at everyone’s eyes on me and when I look out the window, there are clouds. “What happened?” My heart races and a sheen of sweat coats my cold skin.

“You had some sort of seizure. Do you have a medical condition, sir?” She hands me a bottle of water.

“No. I’m fine, just a bad case of PTSD.” I guzzle the water down, drinking half the bottle in one go.

“Can I get you anything else, sir?”

“Grace. I need Grace.”

“She’s in business class, sir.”

“I need her, damn it.” I reign my voice in, not meaning to sound like an arse. “Just tell her to get out here.”

“Yes, sir.” She shimmies down the aisle to the front of the plane where business class is and disappears behind the curtain.

I lost brothers up there. I lost pieces of myself. And I’ll be damned if I lose Rose too. Not again. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths as I try to calm myself down. My fingers feel for the gum in my pocket and I pull a piece out and pop it in my mouth.

The baby cries next to me as the woman tries to comfort her. “My husband has PTSD. Can’t be in confined spaces. I’m wishing I’d let this one stay at home with him.”

“You going on holiday?”

“Just visiting my sister. She’d have killed me if I left her niece at home.”

Her daughter reaches out for me.

“May I?” I lift my hands to the small child.

“Be my guest,” the woman says, dropping her daughter into my lap.

She stops crying and plays with the end of my tie.

“She likes you.”

A smile stretches across my face. “There, there. Everything’s better now we’re in the clouds, right.”

She dribbles onto my tie, but her jabbering is oddly soothing, distracting me from the clouds outside and the turbulence in my head.

“Sir, Grace cannot come right now,” Lisa, the flight attendant says.

She put me in economy on purpose. “Tell her if she doesn’t get her arse in here, there’ll be consequences.”

The strawberry flavour on my tongue reminds me of my strawberry ice cream girl. She’s the only one who calms me, although the baby on my knee seems to have been a good enough distraction. But it’s also a reminder of all the things I’ve missed with my son.

Rose has the ability to calm and infuriate me at the same time, but right now I just need to see her. I need to know she hasn’t abandoned me like she did before. She’s the only thing that silences the ghosts on a flight and since I found her again, she’s the only person who’s made me feel alive after the darkness.

A few minutes later, the flight attendant returns with a napkin. “She sent this, sir.”

I open the napkin to the words “go fuck yourself” written in red lipstick.

A snarl forms on my face. I hand the baby back to the woman next to me. “Excuse me.” Standing, I clench my fists at my side and walk through the curtain into business class. Busy my arse. There’s about five passengers here. It’s now clear she booked me in economy on purpose.

“Sir, you can’t be up here,” Lisa says.

“This won’t take long.” I step into an empty seat, allowing her to push the drinks trolly down the aisle.

Rose’s face pales at the front of the plane in the crew area.

I storm down the aisle, my blood pumping, feeling the anger in my veins.

Her body stiffens as I guide her by the elbow into the small restroom.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I slam the napkin against the mirror, my chest rising and falling against her back with heavy panting breaths.

We stare at each other in the mirror, her own chest rising and pushing against the buttons on her shirt.

“I will fuck myself. The next time I’m watching you in bed alone, your hand slipping between your thighs. I’ll fuck myself knowing you’re thinking of me.”

Her mouth parts, eyes wide.

“Were you thinking of me the other night while you stroked your pussy?”

“You’re crazy.”

“You’re the reason I’m like this. You drive me fucking insane.” My arm wraps around her, my hand sliding to her neck so I can feel her pulse beneath my fingers. My dick hardens thinking of her touching herself. Her pulse flutters against my fingers, mirroring mine as all the blood in my head rushes to my groin.

I hook a finger under her silk neck scarf, sliding it down so I can kiss her there. “Rose, I needed you.” I pepper kisses all over her neck and she tilts her head, giving me better access. “I needed you and you wouldn’t come.” My head clouds with emotion. She thinks I mean now, but I mean thirteen years ago. I needed her when I was lying in a hospital bed with nothing but the ghosts of my brothers-in-arms for company.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes out on a whimper, her round ass pressing against my dick as if taunting me.

My other hand reaches down her skirt until I feel the hem. “You’ll come now.” I meet her eyes in the mirror as my fingers climb up the sheer fabric on her thigh highs. “Are you wearing your stockings again?” My fingers reach the lace and I groan in approval. My gaze doesn’t leave hers in the mirror, searching for a sign that she doesn’t want this, but her body hums and vibrates, telling me she wants this as much as I do, only she’s too stubborn to admit it.

Her hand covers mine, an inch from her pussy. She whimpers, “D’Angelo.”

“Rosetta,” I whisper against her skin. “I’ve got you, fiore mio.” I lick her neck, the sweet taste of her skin mixed with a creamy body butter.

“I…” Heat blooms in her cheeks. Her flawless makeup hides most of it, but her skin’s hot against my lips. “I haven’t waxed.”

I freeze for half a second. That quiet, insecure whisper makes my heart stutter just like her vulnerability did the first time I touched her. She’s comfortable with me enough to let me see her raw and unsure. And fuck, I want her to know that it’s her I want. Waxed or not, doesn’t make any difference to me. It’s just her. It’s always been her. But the way her breath trembles with embarrassment takes me right back to the boating lake.

“Your beauty regime is the last thing on my mind right now.” I lick and lightly suck against her neck, grinding my dick into her soft cheeks, showing her how much of an effect she has on me.

Her grip on my hand loosens, and I slide my hand higher. Her legs widen, allowing my hand between her touching thighs.

My fingers stroke the gusset over a wet spot and I groan, my dick straining against my zipper. “My little flower’s soaked.”

I hook a finger inside the lace of her knickers, run my finger along her seam, and watch her reflection fall apart.

Her head rests back against my shoulder, her eyelids flickering as she looks up at the spotlight on the ceiling. “I hate you,” she pants out with a moan, her legs trembling around my hand.

I plunge two fingers into her dripping cunt. “I fucking hate you, too.” I slide my fingers out and circle her swollen clit, loving how she shudders against me. “Hate you so fucking much.” With my other hand I yank her scarf down and suck her neck, her arousal getting me high and making me delirious as my cock grinds against her ass. I could come from the sheer feel of her cunt, but I won’t. This is about making sure she knows who owns her orgasm.

“Eyes on me, Rose.” We stare at each other in the mirror, my hand disappearing between her legs. I open the buttons on her shirt, revealing her white cotton bra. So demure, like the one she wore on our first time, only her breasts are much bigger now. I caress one, then the other. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her eyelids flicker as I strum her clit at a leisurely pace.

“Take your tits out for me. Let me look at you.”

Her hand reaches my face, pulling my lips back to her neck. “Just fuck me and get it over with.”

My lips quirk into a grin. “You want my cock, you have to earn it. Now show me your tits.”

“I thought you’d have grown out of the schoolboy fascination with boobs by now.” She reluctantly pulls the cups of her bra down and my dick twitches in my boxers.

“Not yours.” I squeeze one of her heavy breasts, loving how her stiff nipple feels beneath my palm. My other hand works against her clit as I plunge three fingers into her soaked pussy.

She whimpers as I pluck her nipple.

“Shh,” I say, my lips brushing against her neck.

“Fuck me.” She writhes against my hand, her whole body trembling, begging for me.

“You told me to fuck myself.” Having her like this at my mercy flips a switch inside me. I want to punish her for leaving me. Dominate her, make her beg and realise what she’s been missing. I want her to be on her knees regretting denying me all these years. But I also want to sink myself balls-deep into her heat and fuck another baby into her.

“Stop being a tool and just get on with it.”

“Beg for it.”

“Never.”

I stop circling her clit and lift my hand covered in her arousal. “Beg me if you want to come.”

“I’ll never beg you. I’d sooner do it myself than give you the satisfaction.”

“Be my guest. It isn’t the first time I’ve watched you pleasure yourself.” I palm my erection as she stares furiously at me in the mirror.

“I don’t pleasure myself.”

I whisper against her ear, “Now who’s the liar?”

Her breath catches in her throat as realisation dawns. “You’ve been watching me?”

My lips curve into a sinister grin as memories of her touching her sweet little cunt flick through my mind, and all I’m missing is a box of popcorn.

“You dirty bastard.” She jabs her elbow into my ribs, but it barely tickles.

A chuckle bursts out of me. “You’re the dirty one. I’m not the one playing with a pink vibrator night after night.” I reach my hand back between her legs, dipping my fingers into her slick folds.

She whimpers at the touch, her legs shaking as I circle her little nub and pepper kisses against her neck, moving to the corner of her mouth, but she tilts her head, moving her lips away.

“Tell me, fiore mio, was it my hand you imagined touching you?” I grind my hips into her soft, cushioned cheeks. “My dick fucking you.” I watch her reflection fall apart as she leans back against my chest, a moan of ecstasy caressing her lips.

With every stroke, my arm knocks her tits, making them jiggle, and I’m leaking pre-cum into my boxers. The sight in the mirror mesmerising. “Was it my face you pictured when you came, Rose?”

A broken moan spills from her lips.

I use my free hand to cover her mouth. “Shh.”

Her panting breaths are more erratic as my movements become faster. She chases her climax, rocking into my hand. She’s about to cry out, but I smother her moans with my palm, masking her guttural cry as I plunge my fingers back into her cunt to feel her clamp down around me.

Her whole body vibrates. Her breath is hot on my palm as she whimpers my full name.

I keep my fingers inside her, feeling every ripple and tremor wring through her tight heat, arousal pooling on my hand. “Fuck.” Every muscle in my body wants to sink my dick into her, kiss her lips tenderly and make love to my woman just like I did when it was her first time, treat her like the queen she is and worship every damn curve of her body, but that would give away my true feelings for her, and I’m not ready to play that card yet. Instead, I bite her neck in frustration, hating how this woman makes me crazy with lust and hungry with need.

With a growl, I let go of her before I draw blood. I take a step back and lean against the folded baby change.

“I need to clean myself up.” She turns around and washes her hands.

I gather some tissue in my palm and give them to her as I shuffle past her to the sink. “Just remember. I own your orgasm, whether you bring yourself to climax or you come with me. You’re mine, fiore mio. You always were.” I button her shirt, then tuck a loose strand of hair into her hat. “There. You’re perfect.”

She looks up at me, then licks the pad of her thumb before swiping the side of my mouth. “So are you.”

My chest stutters at the admission. A small part of me hopes she means perfect for her as she is for me.

Her eyes flick south. “You might want to do something about that, though.”

I glance down at the tent in my trousers. “I’m sure it’ll go down when I get back to my seat.” My eyes narrow. “In economy.”

She looks down with a smug smile. “I can’t say I’m sorry, because I’m not.”

“You’ll pay for that.”

She curls her fingers around my tie and uses it like a rope to lift onto her tiptoes to whisper into my ear, “I look forward to it.”

The little minx smiles and unlocks the door and steps out of the tight space. I contemplate staying in here to knock one out until I realise there’s a queue forming.

Rose squeezes by the passengers, her red cheeks now glowing through the makeup.

An older woman looks at me confused, and then at Rose, as if putting two and two together.

I hold my hands up. “She’s my wife and we haven’t seen each other for a week while I’ve been on a business trip. Forgive me.”

The old dear smiles, forgivingly, while a man pats my back as he steps into the cubicle.

Rose rolls her eyes and carries on with her duties, but I didn’t miss the hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth and the small dimple where the ghost of my kiss still lingers.

“Matteo,” I shout as my cousin steps into baggage claim.

“Dan.” He pulls me into a tight embrace. The last time I saw him was at his mother’s funeral in the States. My aunt’s death had been a tragedy that fractured something deep in my cousins. I know all too well what it’s like to lose a mother.

“Let’s get you checked into your hotel. You can rest after your long flight. Then we can order room service and review the plans for the delivery.”

“Grazie.” He straightens the collar of his black shirt, then stuffs a hand into his black jeans, pulling his case with the other.

We walk out of the terminal into the warm Mediterranean air, the afternoon sun beating down on my face. It’s a good thing Rose had a flight today. I’d almost forgotten about this meeting with everything that’s happened lately.

I glance at my cousin’s tired, weathered face and am reminded that he needs me, too. This meeting had been planned long before I knew I had a son.

Family always comes first.

But now, I have another family.

One I didn’t even know I was missing until I looked into a kid’s eyes and saw my own.

I place a hand on Matteo’s shoulder. “We’ll catch up this evening. I have a few errands to run this afternoon.”

“Thanks, cugino.” He wheels his case onto the pavement as we head to the taxi stand. “It’s good to see a friendly face.” His warm smile reaches his eyes, the lines on his face deeper now than the last time we met.

“Same, cuz.” I squeeze his shoulder, knowing the years have taken their toll on my dad’s side of the family. Since my mother’s murder, we’ve all felt the weight of corruption and betrayal. At least I got to avenge my mother’s killers and make peace with it. Matteo, on the other hand, is still struggling with his demons.

21

ROSE

“Ciao, Mamma.” I smile as I walk over to Mamma’s chair next to the hospital bed. “You’re looking so much better.” I lean down and kiss her cheek.

She raises a hand and pats my face, her body much stronger than before. “I feel a lot better. Especially now I’m seeing you.” Her familiar scent of lavender seems to relieve all the tension from my shoulders.

“Would you like a stroll around the garden today? It’s nice weather out.”

“Sì, let me get into the wheelchair.” She pushes herself up with shaky limbs, still not fully mobile, and I’m not sure she ever will be.

I hook the portable oxygen concentrator onto her wheelchair and cover Mamma’s legs in a blanket. As I wheel her down the corridor, I tug at my necktie, the air stifling in here, full of disinfectant. The walls close in on me, but I’m acutely aware of every person I pass and lingering eyes after Dan said it wasn’t safe in Rome. I’m sure he’d be here with me if he didn’t have a meeting. I don’t miss the irony that he claimed to be keeping me safe back home and never left my side, but here in Rome, where danger is more prevalent, he’s gone off to a meeting. It doesn’t make sense.

“How’s my grandson?” Mamma asks as the doors to the garden open automatically.

I push her over the threshold into the warm breeze and welcome the sun on my face, and the scent of the stone pine trees that always remind me of my childhood and the Villa Borghese, and him.

“Angelos is fine, Mamma. It’s his birthday Monday.” I wheel her to a bench partly shaded by a tree.

“I know. I haven’t got him a gift, but I’ll get Elio to wire some money over.”

I sit on the bench next to her, taking hold of her hand as it rests on her blanket. “It’s fine, Mamma, he knows you’ve been in hospital. He isn’t expecting anything.” I look around, checking our surroundings, and lower my voice. “Dan’s taking us out somewhere for his birthday.”

Mamma has a whimsical smile. “I’m so glad you’ve found each other again.”

“It’s not like that.” I shake my head, my neck itching and tender under my silk scarf where his lips lingered. “We’re not together. But he knows about Angelos.”

Mamma nods. “About time that boy knew his real father.”

“I haven’t told Angelos yet. Mamma, I’ve been such an idiot.” I bury my face in my palms. “I honestly never thought I’d see Dan again. And if I ever did, I always told myself I wouldn’t fall for his tricks again, but I feel history is repeating itself.” Tears pool in the corners of my eyes, but it’s more frustration at my own weakness. For the last eight years, I’ve been this strong, independent woman, but one look from Dan and I’m a naïve girl again, desperate for his affection.

“There, there.” She pats my head as I rest it in her lap, just like I would after my father had lost his temper with Mamma. Ignoring her own bruises, she would soothe my cries with lullabies. “He’s not your husband.”

I lift my head. “But he betrayed me. He used me. He even admitted it.”

She nods her head. “I know that’s how it seems. All I know is from the brief encounters I’ve had with him, he seems to care deeply for you.”

I shake my head, blinking back tears. “Caring doesn’t erase the lies. Or the fact he left. He vanished, Mamma. He didn’t even try to find me.”

She squeezes my hand gently. “Maybe he was trying to protect you. Men do stupid things in the name of love. Especially when they’re raised in a world where love is used like currency or punishment.”

I stare out at the garden, at the sunlight dappling through the trees, dancing across the gravel path. My scarf itches against my neck and I tug at it instinctively, revealing the faint bloom of the bruise I saw when I checked in the taxi ride here.

Her gaze falls there. “He gave you that?”

I nod once.

“And you let him close enough to do it.” There’s no judgment in her voice. Just a quiet observation.

I look down, my voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to hate him. I still do. But every time I look at him, I remember who he was… who I was when I was with him.”

“Young. In love. Hopeful.” She gives me a whimsical smile.

I smile back bitterly. “Stupid.”

“No, innocente. You were just a girl who believed in the wrong version of forever.”

I turn my face towards her. “What if I still believe in it? What if some small, stupid part of me still wants that forever—with him?”

She brushes my hair behind my ear like she did when I was a child. “Then you have to ask yourself one thing.”

I sniffle, wiping under my eyes. “What?”

“Do you want to keep punishing yourself for the man he used to be… or give the man he’s become a chance to show you he’s changed?” Her brow furrows. “I don’t know what was going through his head back then or why he never came back. Maybe he knew if he came back, your uncle would kill him. Maybe he thought you’d hate him for killing your father. There are so many reasons why he may have stayed away.”

“But there’s one reason he should have come back.” A lump forms in my throat. “Love.” I think about the way he held me on the flight. The way his hands shook. The way he looked when he found out about Angelos. “He obviously didn’t love me enough.”

“Not everything is a Romeo and Juliet story, Rosetta. Whatever his reasons, it’s been years. Give the man a chance. You deserve a shot at happiness.”

“And what if he hasn’t changed?”

“Then you’ll know. But at least you’ll have chosen with your eyes open this time.”

I lean back, letting her words settle. The garden buzzes with distant chatter and the occasional chirp of birds. Somewhere in the hospital, a bell rings, calling staff to the ward.

Mamma pats her chest gently, her breathing shallow but steady. “Don’t waste your life trying to undo the past. You can’t change where you’ve been. But you can choose who stands beside you from here on in.”

I nod, swallowing down the ache in my throat. The tears finally fall, soft and silent.

And for the first time in years, I let them.

22

DAN

Ilean against the Obelisco Sallustiano in front of the Church of Trinità dei Monti, at the top of the Spanish Steps. The strawberry gum in my mouth calms me, but only a little as I wait for Magnus. With my back against the structure, I scan the area. He’s clever, arranging to meet in the open. One of the busiest parts of Rome, full of tourists and cameras. Too public to strangle him with my bare hands.

I need him out of the picture—and fast. Gathering data on his operations isn’t gonna cut it this time. He’s a loose end that needs tying up, his mere existence hanging over me and my family like a grey cloud blocking out the sun.

My spine prickles. There he is—threading through the crowd like oil in water, polluting everything in his path. That sunken face, dishevelled suit, and the ugly scar across his cheek that I want to mirror on the other side.

I push off the obelisk as he climbs the stairs, his eyes finding me through the sea of people. My shoulders are lighter knowing he’s here meeting me, allowing Rose to visit her mum with no threat from this man.

He holds out a hand for me to shake.

Acid rises in my throat as I stare at it, then my gaze flicks back to his and I secure my mask, a smile hiding the poison on my tongue, but for now I play nice and shake his hand.

“You wanted to meet me?” He stares as if waiting for me to hand him some intel, but I have nothing. The only purpose for this meeting was to know where he is and make sure he’s as far away from the hospital as possible.

“Yes. I wanted to touch base while I’m in Rome. Finding any leads on the target is proving difficult.” I scratch at the short bristles on my jaw as I assess his reaction.

“I suggest you try harder, Bianchi. That’s what I’m paying you for.” He spits the words as if frustrated.

“The brother hasn’t seen her in years. The mother can hardly speak without coughing up a lung. She’d sooner die than give anything away.”

He clicks his tongue. “Then maybe we need to get creative,” he says, lowering his voice. “Tell the old bat you’ll hurt the kid.”

Every muscle in my body locks. Fire floods my veins. “You’d use your own son as bait?” My son. The lad doted on this man, and why I cannot fathom.

He shrugs like it’s nothing, clicking his tongue, slow and deliberate. “It’s not personal, Bianchi. It’s just business. Rose is an asset that got misplaced. And I’m simply reclaiming what’s mine.”

“I’m not in the business of hurting kids. It’s not my style. Nor is hurting women.”

He sparks up a cigarette, the sulphur bite reaching me before the smoke does. “Relax. I wouldn’t hurt the kid. But she doesn’t know that.” He blows out a plume in my face. “Like I said. Get creative and the old bat might talk.”

I want to break his nose. Slam his head against the stone behind us and watch the scar split wide open. I want to pry his eyes from his sockets and cut out his tongue, break every finger that’s ever touched my girl and tarnished her soft petals. But I don’t.

For now, I swallow the bile on my tongue and clear my throat as I tighten my tie. “I’ll see what I can do.” I tilt my head, studying him. “Why would your wife feel the need to disappear?” I give him a hard stare, wondering what this bastard did to my woman that would make her want to change her name.

Magnus’s lips twitch. “Some women are so dramatic.”

The muscles in my jaw clench so tight, my molars grind. My fingers tense at my sides, aching to grab him by the collar and throw him down the steps. “You think she wants to play chase?”

He shrugs, too casual. “She likes to play games.”

I lean in, close enough for him to smell the anger on my breath. “Or maybe she tired of playing your punching bag.”

Magnus steps closer, lowering his voice. Click. “You’re acting like I’m the monster,” he says, tilting his head. “But didn’t you kill her father?”

“People get what they deserve.” I glare at him, but do my best to keep my cool.

His expression doesn’t shift, but there’s a flicker in his eyes—a crack in the mask. “You got something you want to say, Bianchi?” he asks, all teeth now.

“Just trying to get into the mind of the woman I’m tracing. It helps to understand the… psychology.”

“Don’t waste your time psychoanalysing her. She’s a manipulator. And when I find her, I’ll remind her exactly who she belongs to.”

She doesn’t belong to you. My fist curls, but I school my face.

We lock eyes. He tries to read me. I let him. Let him think I’m still his man. Let him believe the leash still fits.

He scoffs. “Just find her. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”

“And when I do?” My voice is smooth. Deceptively calm. “What happens then?”

He smiles, teeth stained with smoke. “Then we bring her home.”

Home.

My fists tighten. Her home is with me. With her son. With the life she built away from you. “You’ll get what you paid for,” I say, turning before I forget we’re surrounded by tourists and let my hands speak instead.

He wants her home. I’ll make sure I bring her home—right after I bury him.

Once out of his earshot, I pull out my phone and call Rose, needing her voice to soothe the tension from my body. I take a left as the phone rings and inhale the fresh air of the Villa Borghese gardens, the scent of the stone pines and citrus fruits, a kiosk selling stone-baked pizzas and the sweet aroma of the gelato cart. I’m taken back almost fourteen years.

“Hello,” Rose answers after several rings.

“Where are you?”

“I’ve just arrived back at my hotel.” There’s a clatter in the background.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, just my case.”

My shoulders drop as a sigh leaves my lungs.

“You know, I thought you’d be tracking me. You seem to know everything else.”

I imagine her rolling her eyes with a sassy smirk on her lips. One I want to kiss off her face. I smile, just a little. “Careful, fiore mio. Keep talking like that and I’ll start to think you missed me.”

“If I missed you, it was probably like missing a toothache,” she fires back, but her voice is softer than her words.

I glance at the still lake and lean against the rail, lowering my voice. “Keep giving me attitude, and I’ll have to do something about it.”

“Well, you already gave me a hickey. You’ve made a right mess of my neck.”

A chuckle escapes. “I didn’t hear you complaining at the time.”

“You ambushed me.”

“You loved every second of it.”

There’s a pause, then her voice drops, a touch quieter. “You’re exhausting,” she says on an exhale, and I hear the bounce of a mattress and a creak of a bed.

I turn, taking in the beautiful view of the rose gardens. The gravel paths. The old stone bench where she used to sit with her head buried in that battered paperback. “I’m in the Villa Borghese.”

Silence stretches on the phone. “You reminiscing about what a lying piece of shit you were?”

“I never lied to you.”

“Right,” she bites back. “You just omitted the truth. That’s the same thing, Dan.”

I close my eyes, letting our memories wash over me like warm air. “I am fortune’s fool.”

“Don’t think you can quote Shakespeare and I’ll fawn over you like I did before.”

“How about if I quote us?” I run a hand over my face, reminiscing, as if it was just yesterday. “You were always reading that damn book. You had no idea how poignant it was for us back then and even now. I can still picture you in your sundress, a smattering of freckles across your face where the sun had kissed your skin, and I wanted to kiss every single one.”

“D’Angelo, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Tell you how you were the most beautiful thing in that rose garden.”

“More lies. I was a chubby girl with no experience of men. I was an easy target for you to manipulate to your will.”

“You were a shy little thing, yes, and chubby, but that’s what made me fall for you even more. You had no idea how adorable you were.”

She exhales. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make me forget how angry I am at you.”

“Too late. I can hear it in your voice—you’re thinking about the bench. About the rose. About that kiss under the trees.”

Another silence, a crackle of tension down the line.

“Get some rest, fiore mio. Think of gardens and stolen kisses.”

“I’ll think of running you over with the drinks trolley.”

A smile curves my lips as another pause of silence carries through the phone.

“Don’t go back there again.” Her voice wobbles and I’m not sure if she means the garden or the past, but it’s too late now. Our past is entwined with our future and even after all this time, even after everything we’ve been through—she remembers too.

“I have to go.” Her voice fades, but the ache she leaves behind doesn’t.

I hang up and pocket the phone, the promise of a past we can never quite shake still burning in my chest.

And now, it’s time to deal with the other mess I came here for.

Knock, knock.

Matteo cracks the hotel door wide enough for me to enter. “Did anyone follow you up here?” He clicks the door shut behind us and runs a hand through his short hair.

“No. I have Riccardo’s security guys keeping close tabs on everyone coming in or out of the hotel. I’m keeping a close eye on someone else right now.”

“Can we trust Riccardo’s men?” Matteo sits on the bed, his head dropping into his hands as if the weight of the world is bearing down on him.

“He may be a second cousin, but he’s still a Bianchi like us.” I recline into the hotel chair at the old wooden desk. “How have you been?” I know how he must feel. It’s hard returning to the place you once fled. The last time I was here, apart from recently, I was on a mission to avenge my mother. Now my mission is to protect the woman whose family I was sent to destroy.

Matteo lets out a long sigh. “Truth? Not good.”

I lean back and scratch the short hairs on my jaw.

He scrubs a hand down his weary face. “I’m obsessed with bringing my father down. I don’t know if he’s caught wind of this, or if he’s merely evil enough to want to hurt me for being disloyal. But he’s put a hit out on my wife.” His voice wobbles, just for a second. He blinks hard and clears his throat, but the fear lingers like a shadow across his face.

“Fuck.” My spine straightens as I hang on every word.

“I’ve been trying to infiltrate his business communications to put a stop to them. Particularly his drug and weapons business. However, the safety of my wife is paramount. It makes it difficult to focus on anything else.”

“I understand better than you think.” Resting my elbows on my knees, I rub the back of my neck as my head dips. “I’ve been under similar stress. Trying to keep Rose safe. She’s…it’s complicated.”

He lets out a half-hearted laugh. “If anyone can relate to complicated, I’m your man.”

“It’s a big mess. She’s married to a man from an Italian crime syndicate in London. He wasn’t a problem while he was incarcerated, but now he’s back on the scene, looking for her.”

Matteo shakes his head.

“It gets worse.” I swallow the bitterness on my tongue, bile rising in my throat whenever I think of my girl with him. “He’s asked me to find her.” I clench my fist, wanting to tear the man’s skin from his bones and feed it to him in a dog bowl. “I accepted because if I’m not the one looking, then he’d find someone else. I need to stall him long enough while I can gather some dirt.

Matteo places a hand on my shoulder. “This life isn’t for the meek, cugino.”

“Isn’t that the damn truth?” I walk over to the phone on the nightstand and order room service, then open the fridge and pull out a beer. “Want one?”

Matteo’s brow wrinkles. He pulls his lip between his teeth before shaking his head. “I don’t do well with alcohol these days, my friend.”

I place the beer back in the fridge, sensing his struggle. “You’re right. We both need to keep a clear head.” I reach into my bag for my journal. “All right, let’s make a plan.”

23

ROSE

“What room are you in?” D’Angelo’s voice says through my phone.

“Why?” I flick through the channels on the TV, searching for a movie.

“Because there are no rooms left.”

“Oh, what a shame. This is Rome. Find another hotel.” I pop a piece of popcorn into my mouth while the trailer plays for a romance movie.

“I don’t need another hotel when you have a double room.” His voice is clipped and I imagine the twitch in his lip while he loosens his tie in frustration.

A smile spreads across my face as I pop another piece of popcorn into my mouth. “I already have a date tonight, thanks.”

“What?” His footsteps carry through the handset. “If you don’t tell me what room you’re in, I’ll break down every damn door in this hotel.”

My stomach pops as if the popcorn is having a party in there. “You’re not ruining my date night. Find another hotel.”

“Date night over my dead body. Get rid of him before I do it for you.” Heavy breaths come through the speaker. “Do you want me to call your mother?”

Ugh. My shoulders deflate, remembering what Mamma said today. “Room 89.” I hang up the phone and jump as the hotel door thumps. The bag of popcorn topples, spilling out onto the bed.

I tie my robe tight to hide my nightdress and catch my reflection in the mirror. A sheet mask stuck to my face. Stuff it. If he wants to stay here, he can put up with my chick flick and pamper night. I look through the peephole.

Dan’s clenched jaw is the first thing I see as he fiddles with his tie, his neck tilts to the side, then the other, his knuckles white as he balls his hands into fists as if gearing up for a fight.

With a small giggle, I swing the door open. “You come to join me on my date?”

His dark eyes flick over me, his brow wrinkling as he takes in the mask on my face. He barges past me into the room. “Where is he?” Dan drops his holdall onto the floor and stomps into the bathroom.

I close the door and can’t stop the giggle bursting out of me. “Well, I can’t decide whether to have a date with Zac Efron or Channing Tatum.” I point to the TV. “And if you’re joining us, you’d better be quiet.”

His eyes narrow as he glares at me. “You think this is funny?”

More laughter spills out of me, my mask wrinkling as it slips down my face.

“You won’t be laughing when I take the remote.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest, his jaw ticking as he watches me plop back onto the bed, completely unbothered by his fuming presence. He’s probably still frustrated from our little fumble this afternoon.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he made the whole “no rooms at the inn” thing up just to get in my bed and in my knickers again. He’s a master at manipulation and if lying were an Olympic sport, he’d win gold every time.

The movie plays the intro to Magic Mike. I lean back on a cushion and get myself comfy while hoovering up the fallen popcorn with my hand and mouth.

Dan yanks his tie off and throws it on the dresser. “You can turn this shit off.”

I raise an eyebrow, pushing my sheet mask back into place. “Last time I checked, I’m paying for this room, so I’ll watch whatever I please.”

He leans over me, gripping the headboard, his face inches from mine. “Last time I checked, the airline paid for this room.”

“Fine, let’s watch whatever you want. Maybe there’s a documentary on how to be an arse.” I lift my finger in the air. “Oh wait. You already are one.”

His lips twitch like he’s resisting a smirk, but his arms stay locked either side of me, his biceps bulging under his white shirt. “I’m not watching a film where you drool over shirtless men.”

Something flutters in my chest, but I keep my face solemn under my pink mask. “How inconsiderate of me. I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is make you jealous.”

He laughs, lets go of the headboard, and unbuttons his shirt. “I’m not jealous.”

I pat the side of the bed. “Then sit down and prove it. Popcorn?” I shake the bag, the kernels rustling.

Dan glares as if I’ve just offered him cyanide. “No, thanks.”

I toss a handful into my mouth. “Suit yourself, but standing for a two-hour movie is going to be hard on those old man knees.”

He chuckles as he unbuckles his belt and I try not to glance at him, but my eyes wander at the clink of his belt. “My knees are strong enough to hold you up against that wall and fuck you senseless. I can prove that to you if you like.”

My core clenches. My toes curl and heat pools between my thighs.

“I’m going in the shower,” he says as he yanks off his trousers, his dick tenting his boxers.

I gulp the popcorn down, my eyes fixed on his jutting erection. “Might wanna make it a cold one.”

He glances down at himself and then back to me, his eyes lingering for a beat too long. “A cold fucking shower is warmer than your hospitality.” He storms into the bathroom and pushes the door to, but it doesn’t click shut, leaving a sliver of light shining into the bedroom.

I shovel more popcorn into my mouth as I lean forward on the bed.

Dan lathers himself in soap, scrubbing harshly, as if he can wash away the tension. He turns his back to me, and I watch the rivulets of water run over the cross on his back and words that I can’t make out from this distance. I hadn’t noticed the small words wrapping around the cross before. Never studied him long enough.

I pad the few steps to the bathroom door and get a closer look.

These violent delights have violent ends

I suck in a breath, the quote from my favourite book.

He turns to the side, his hands washing shampoo into his short hair.

My gaze follows the soap sliding down his body all the way down to his jutting cock, thick and rigid with dark veins. My heart rate picks up speed as he trails a hand down to his cock, creating more bubbles there with the soap.

Heat pools low in my belly, watching him make a fist around his erection, one hand braced against the shower wall as water cascades over him.

My mouth waters at the sight. He’s annoyingly magnificent. My clit tingles at memories of him making me come on the plane. His words from the phone call today and how he was with my son last night. Our son. I should stop giving him grief. If Mamma can trust him, perhaps I should too.

I pad away from the door before he sees me watching, although he admitted to watching me, so I shouldn’t be ashamed, but I’m afraid if I continue to watch, I’ll do something I regret, like join him in the shower and reenact our mile high experience from today.

I climb back onto the bed and act nonchalant.

He walks into the room, rubbing his hair with a towel, another towel wrapped around his waist. “Have you eaten?” His voice is much softer now, matching his dick, judging by how the towel hangs straight.

I wave my hand in front of all my snacks laid out on the bed, my cheeks still glowing under the mask. I need to take it off, but it’s hiding a multitude of sins right now.

He drops on the bed next to me, the towel around his waist parting to reveal his muscly inked thigh. “You need to eat some proper food, Rose. You should take better care of yourself with your condition.”

“The paninis here are really nice. I could go for a tuna melt.”

“I’ll order, then let you watch your movie in peace.” He smiles softly.

“Did you have a personality transplant while you were in the shower?”

“No, why?”

“You’re being nice. It’s not so hard, is it?”

“You have no fucking idea.” His gaze lingers on me, his lips tightening, like he’s not sure whether to kiss me or strangle me.

Maybe both.

“Take that ridiculous mask off. I can’t take you serious with it on.” He reaches a hand up and peels it from my skin. “Why does it have a bunny face?”

I shrug my shoulder with a smile. “It’s the only one they had at the airport.”

His hand swipes the damp hair from my neck, his fingers lingering there as he examines his handy work with a smirk.

I glare at him. “Do you brand all the girls you seduce at 30,000 feet?”

“Just you.” He leans close. “When you look in the mirror, maybe you’ll remember you’re mine.”

A wave of goose bumps tickles my skin. I should be angry. I stopped being a possession a long time ago, but the way he says mine causes my stomach to flip.

“Is there a menu around here?” He moves my vanity case from the bedside table and my vibrator falls onto the bed.

I stare at it in horror, my cheeks burning up, wishing I still had the bunny mask on.

“You really were planning on a date tonight, huh?” His lips quirk into a grin as he picks it up and pushes the on button, but nothing happens. “You ran the battery down already?”

I snatch it from him. “It’s the only thing that’s stopped me from maiming you.”

He snatches it back. “You won’t be needing it tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I scramble off the bed. “You have a way of killing my libido.” I saunter into the bathroom, my silk dressing gown wafting behind me.

I rinse the mask residue from my face and inhale a few deep breaths. I need to be strong to get through a night with him. The plane was a weak moment. He caught me off guard and after having him at home all night, I was on fire.

I walk back into the hotel room.

Dan’s leaning against the headboard, the bag of popcorn in his lap resting on the towel. “I’ve ordered food. It’ll be about twenty minutes.”

“What are you doing here, Dan?” I drop on the end of the bed with a sigh. “You could be anywhere right now. Why are you here?”

“I thought we’d established this, Rose. I’m here to protect you.”

“I’m perfectly safe in the hotel room. There’s security here. Unless you think I’m going to choke on my popcorn or cause death by vibrator.”

“Stranger things have happened. You’d be surprised.” He rustles the bag of popcorn and pulls out a handful, tipping his head back as he pours them into his mouth.

“I’m serious. You could be out there living your best life, eating at a fine restaurant with—let’s face it—” I roll my eyes. “Any woman you want.”

“I don’t want a random woman. It’s not my style.” He scratches his short beard, his brow furrowing. “Besides, we need to talk.”

I knew this was coming. My stomach twists. The thing I’ve been dreading all day. “Can you at least put some clothes on? I can’t talk to you wearing that towel. It’s distracting.”

“Fine.” He rises from the bed, unzips his holdall, drops the towel in front of me and pulls out a fresh pair of white boxers with an Armani logo around the waistband.

I swallow the thick, hot air between us. “Is that a piercing?” My eyes widen at the shiny metal under his semi hard length.

He lifts his dick with two fingers, as casually as if he’s showing off a new watch, revealing the bar with two silver balls on either side. “Yeah, I got it for a bet, but the girls kinda liked it, so I kept it.” His eyes drift to mine. “Wanna try it out?”

Tingles course through my body. “You’re not hypnotising me with your shiny jewelled dick.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Put it away, would you, before you trip over it or take someone’s eye out. Or worse, put me off my dinner.”

He laughs as he pulls on his boxers, his wrinkled nose somewhat adorable. “You wanted me to fuck you earlier.” His gaze flicks to mine.

“That was before you opened your mouth and ruined everything.” Not wanting to stare into his dark, steel-grey eyes, I glance away before I’m asking him to fuck me again. “I will never beg.”

His lips curve into a sinister grin, as if he knows better. He may have been able to bend and manipulate me before, but he’s underestimated the woman I am now. He can’t make me do whatever he asks. Even if my vagina is weeping for attention.

“Can I watch my movie now or are you planning on distracting me all night?” I tie the satin belt around my waist, yanking it tight into a knot.

“We still need to talk, Rose. You getting distracted by my jewellery isn't going to prevent this conversation from happening.”

Ugh. I plop on the bed with a sigh. “Go on then, let’s get it over with.”

He pulls a t-shirt over his head and sits into the hotel chair near the long drapes covering the window. “You need to tell our son the truth.”

A shiver runs the length of my spine. Sweat coats my cold skin. “I told you he can never be yours. If anyone found out, his life would be in danger and mine. Do you think Magnus would just walk away? He’s only been out of prison a month and he’s already looking for me. It’s only a matter of time before he finds me.”

“I’m not afraid of Magnus. I told you before, I won’t let anything happen to you or our son.” He leans forward, his elbows digging into his knees as he clasps his hands together. “I can protect you. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you, Dan. That’s the problem. You broke that trust when you used me for your mission.” I hate how my eyes sting. Hate how saying it out loud is like admitting it to myself. I want to trust him. I really do.

“Yeah, well, you betrayed me, too. I woke up from a coma to find out you’d married someone else. You lied to me, too. You said you’d wait for me.”

“You were in a coma?” I swallow the lump in my throat.

“Helicopter accident.”

It all makes sense now—why he’s anxious when flying. Why he thinks I betrayed him, but he’s lied so many times it’s hard to know if this is just another lie to make me feel sorry for him. “I didn’t betray you. I was a pawn for a business deal. I thought you didn’t care.”

Dan’s eyes widen. “A deal?” He rises from the chair, his fists tugging at his hair as he paces the small space. “Fucking hell.” He closes his eyes and takes long slow breaths through his nose, his jaw clenched as he pulls back the long drape and looks out at the Rome skyline in the distance.

I sit on the bed, twiddling a piece of popcorn between my fingers. “Did you not know?”

He tilts his head, glancing back at me, his eyes glazed over with a watery film. “No.” The deep rasp in his tone is almost a growl. “I thought you married him willingly. Whether it was to spite me or because you actually liked him, I wasn’t sure.” He paces again, his fists clenching and opening, causing the veins under his inked arms to bulge.

I pop a piece of popcorn into my mouth, then another as he comes to terms with my ordeal. Watching him unravel is better than any Magic Mike movie. I almost want him to suffer and feel even a fraction of the pain I went through, but if he’s telling the truth about his accident, he’s probably suffered enough.

“If I’d have known.” He tugs at his hair again. “Did he force himself on you?” His steel-coloured eyes stare into me as if penetrating my mind to extract the information without words.

I look away, shame still gnawing at me for how weak I was back then. “Dan, I was married to him. I’m sure you can guess how it went. You don’t need me to spell it out for you.”

The mattress dips as he sits on the bed next to me. His hand cups my cheek and I lean into the warmth from his palm. “If I’d have known, I’d have come for you.”

“I wrote you a letter.” My voice wobbles, emotions clogging the back of my throat.

“I never got a letter. I would’ve torn the world apart to get to you if I had.”

“I remember folding the paper with shaking hands, sealing the envelope with a kiss and a tear. I poured every bit of heartbreak into that letter. Begged that it wasn’t you. I couldn’t believe that you came into my home, stole my virginity and killed my father and his men. I didn’t want to believe it was you.”.

“I’m not sorry for killing those men or your father, and I’m not sorry for taking your virginity, but I didn’t steal it. You gave it to me.” His thumb strokes my cheek where flames lick beneath the surface. Warm lips press against my forehead just like he’d always do. “It was the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”

Heat pools in my belly. For a minute, I’m that girl again, full of love and hope. I pinch my leg, hoping it will ground me. Fairy tales aren’t real, unless they’re the Grimm type of fairy tale. I swallow the jumbled words in my throat, my lips close to his, his eyes sincere and filled with a lifetime of sadness that mirrors my own. But all this time, I’ve had Angelos to brighten my day. Dan’s had no one.

“You gave me the best gift anyone’s ever given me that night, too.” My fingers caress his unshaven jaw. “You gave me my son.”

He rests his forehead against mine, our noses kissing with the gentlest of touches as he breathes against my lips. “Our son.”

When he says it, my clit tingles, my walls clench as if my body wants to make another baby with this man. A man who once made me feel loved and safe. I crave that feeling again. A feeling that’s evaded me ever since the night he left, leaving a catastrophic scene in his wake that would shape the rest of my future and bind me to a life of misery. I can’t forget this man caused me my pain too.

A knock at the door has my heart lurching from my chest. My bones jump on the bed.

“It’ll be room service.”

24

DAN

Ilie back with a sigh, turn the TV off, and stare up at the dark ceiling, the only light from my phone as it charges on the bedside table.

Rose sleeps beside me, the movie forgotten.

I shift in the bed to face her, sliding my arm under her pillow to stretch out.

She whimpers as she adjusts herself, her body curled into a ball.

I swipe a lock of blonde hair from her face, then run a finger over her dark-brown roots that remind me of the girl she was. My flower.

She whimpers again and sighs. “You like the brunette, don’t you?”

A puff of air leaves my lips. “Baby, I couldn’t care less what colour hair you have.”

Between her brow, a wrinkle forms as if she’s annoyed.

“You’re beautiful, regardless.”

A smile pushes her cheeks up. “You can compliment me all you like. You’re still not getting into my knickers.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

She opens one eye, the other hidden by the pillow. Her gaze roams over my bare chest. “You’d better have left your boxers on.”

I quirk a grin. “Are you afraid you might be tempted?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She closes her eyes, probably to hide a dramatic eye-roll.

“It might help you sleep. You’ve been tossing and turning for the last hour.”

“Probably because I have your huge arm under my pillow.”

“I can move it.”

“Don’t you dare. I’ve just got comfy.”

“Okay.” I shuffle closer to her, my dick hard as a fucking rock. It’s almost painful. I only have myself to blame. I shouldn’t have lied and said there were no other rooms, but I may as well be in here, tortured. Another room would be even worse, not knowing if she’s safe or not. “We should just fuck and get it out of our system.”

“Wasn’t the shower enough to satisfy you?” She smiles with her eyes closed, still pretending she’s tired.

“You saw that, huh?” A laugh shakes my shoulders. I don’t know if it’s because I know her from our time before, but I feel strangely comfortable with her, as if no time has passed at all. The back-and-forth banter is also kinda fun.

“It was hard to miss.”

“You could’ve joined me.”

“I’d just had a shower. I didn’t need another.”

“I saw your shaver on the side.” My hand reaches her leg under the covers, my fingertips gliding up her silky smooth thigh. “Did you shave your pussy?”

Her eyes open as my fingers tease the small lace trim around her nightdress. The way she swallows, but stays silent, tells me everything I need to know.

“I could’ve trimmed it for you. After all, I am your gardener.” I risk trailing my fingers higher over the satin material at the apex of her thighs.

Her hand flies out from underneath the covers and wraps around my throat. “You touch me there again and I’ll strangle you in your sleep.” Her eyes narrow, as if daring me to take the bait.

“Is that a promise? I’ve always wanted to try breath play.” I stroke her pussy again because I just can’t help myself. “Tell me, fiore mio, is your figa as soaked as it was on the boat that day?”

“You’re insufferable.” She lets out an irritated groan as she straddles me, wrapping both hands around my neck, but the pressure is barely a caress, like silk wrapping around steel. “Why are you so irritating?”

My hands grip her fleshy thighs as I lift my hips.

Her tits bounce under her satin camisole dress, her nipples pebbled beneath the fabric, and my cock grows another inch.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

She rubs her clit against my dick, her hips rolling as she bears her weight down on my neck. Leaning over, she whispers, “If we’re doing this, we do it on my terms.”

She has me in a chokehold, literally. It’s obvious she needs the upper hand. I’ll let her have her fun tonight, but she will submit to me eventually.

“Whatever you say, Rose.” I lift my hips again, loving the way her full breasts bounce, chafing her nipples under her camisole.

“Oh gosh, Dan.” She rocks her hips, grinding against me. “Take your boxers off.” Climbing off me, she kneels on the bed and whips her knickers down.

My eyes widen at her bare pussy, smooth like silk. I can’t stop the smile from curling my lips. “You really did shave for me. You know I appreciate the thought, but you didn’t have to.”

She rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t for you. I like the feel of being dolphin smooth, that’s all.”

“Take your top off. I want to see your glorious tits.”

“No. My terms remember.” She pushes at my chest. “Lie back down.”

I grip her wrist, swipe my leg under her, forcing her onto her back as I pin her to the mattress.

She pants as if she’s running for her life, her heart beating wildly beneath her ribs, like a caged bird trying to escape. Her body writhes beneath me, but I pin her legs under mine, a self-defence tactic that I should probably teach her one day. “Let me go.”

“You can’t escape me, little bird.” I dip my head to inhale her scent, a subtle sweetness, as if she’s bathed in rose petals. “You can ride my dick all you want, but not before I taste you.”

She sucks in a breath, her chest rising, pressing against mine, with only a thin satin camisole between us, her dressing gown falling open, exposing her shoulder.

I dip my head to kiss her mouth, but she turns her head, so I kiss down her neck instead, needing to have my mouth on every part of my woman. If I can make her feel good like I did before, maybe she can learn to trust me, because this time I’m not going anywhere. She is my only mission and right now, my only task is to make her come so hard she’ll never want to let me go.

Hovering above her shoulder, I trace a silvery scar with my fingertip. “What happened here?”

Her eyes widen, she tilts her head, glancing at the scar marring her smooth skin like a blemish on a perfectly sculpted work of art. But we’ve both got scars, some too deep to see.

She tugs her dressing gown over her shoulder. “I… I was in an accident. It’s nothing.”

With one hand holding my weight above her, I ease her dressing gown to the side and dip my head to kiss her there. My heart aching that I wasn’t there for her. I know all about accidents.

She runs her fingers through my hair, her heavy breaths fanning my neck send a shiver down my spine. “It’s just a scar.”

“It’s not just a scar. It’s a reminder that I wasn’t around to take care of you, but all that’s gonna change now.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I mean it, fiore mio.” Lifting her nightdress, I stare down at her bare breasts. More than a handful, with stiff pink peaks begging to be sucked. “I’ve thought about these tits so many times.”

They shake as she laughs. “Seriously?”

“It’s true.”

“What are you, fifteen?”

My lips quirk. “Sweetheart, no fifteen-year-old could imagine the things I’ve thought about doing with your tits.” I lick my lips, saliva running down my tongue.

She grips my jaw between her finger and thumb. “If you spit on my breasts, I’ll slap you.”

My chest shakes with a silent laugh, but I pull my tongue into my mouth. The way she glares at me, she’s deadly serious and it’s fucking hot as hell. Keeping eye contact, I dip my head, taking her nipple into my mouth.

She arches her back, sucking air between her teeth before crying out with pleasure.

I move to the other breast, making sure they both get the same attention, and I bite down, then swirl my tongue around the stiffened nub. My dick weeps from the tip. Having this woman at my mercy is all too much, but I want to take my time with her while I reacquaint myself with her body.

“You’re delicious.” My voice is rough, thick with reverence as I kiss my way south, taking my time, honouring every inch of her skin like it’s the Holy Grail. When I reach the curve of her stomach, I pause as the sight of those silver lines some most likely from pregnancy. It punches the air from my lungs. They shimmer like soft lightning bolts across her round belly, a map of everything I missed.

“I should have been there when you got these.” My throat tightens as I trace a finger over the stretch marks, each one a silent testament to the life she carried without me. Guilt and wonder twist in my gut as I press a kiss to each line, my lips lingering as if I can kiss away each scar and atone for my absence. “I should have been the one to rub lotion on your belly, stroke your back, massage your feet.”

She props herself up on her elbows with a soft smile in the dim light. “I’m always down for a foot massage.”

I chuckle under my breath, the sound shaky with emotion I can’t quite hide. “Anything for my flower.” I lean back on my haunches and lift her leg, my rough hands sliding over the soft silk of her skin. She’s warm beneath my touch, smooth as butter, and it wrecks me—how familiar she feels, yet how foreign this moment is after all the time lost.

I bring her foot to my lips and kiss the sole, my heart thudding in my chest as her toes curl slightly in response. I run my thumb down the centre, watching the ripple of a shiver arc through her body like a live wire.

“That tickles.” Her voice is breathy, lashes fluttering closed as I do it again, slower this time, wanting to memorise how she feels and show her through touch, everything I can’t say.

I keep massaging her foot, working the arch gently, kissing the inside of her ankle like every touch is an apology. After a few minutes, I rest her foot on my shoulder and kiss my way down her calf, then to the delicate bend of her knee, where I pause, breathing her in as if I’m trying to fill a void inside me I’ve carried for far too long.

Her arousal glistens in the dimly lit room. She’s soaked, and I can’t wait to bury my tongue inside her dripping cunt. Her leg trembles as I lick down her inner thigh. “That tickles too.”

I hike her other leg over my shoulder, my face inches from her pussy. I blow on her bare skin, coated in her arousal. “Does that tickle as well?”

Her body shivers, a breathy whisper comes out of her parted mouth, “Yes.”

“How about this?” I dip my tongue into her entrance, then run it through her seam, searching for her little bud.

Her head tilts back. “Yes,” she cries, her fists clenching the sheets at her side.

Feeling for the little button tucked deep inside her soft folds, I circle my tongue, then latch on and suck when I hit the spot

Her body vibrates around me, but I hold her still, pushing my hand against her abdomen. She lifts her hips, grinding against my face.

I push two fingers into her heat, curling and stroking the tight walls of her pussy, and groan around her clit, sending a vibration straight to her core. Lifting my head, our gaze connects. “I can’t get enough of you, fiore mio.”

She fists my hair and pushes my face back to her pussy. “Then stop talking and lick.”

I smile against her heat. “I knew I’d have you begging, eventually.”

“That was an order, soldier. I’m not begging for no man.”

My little flower hasn’t just bloomed—she’s commanding the whole fucking garden now. And fuck, it just makes me want her more. I dip my head, burying my tongue between her folds and obey, devouring her, biting her beautiful, plump pussy and licking her clit as if my life depends on it.

“That’s it. Don’t stop.” Her hips lift, meeting every stroke of my tongue, my fingers buried deep inside of her, hitting every spot she craves, but I need to feel her come on my cock. This isn’t enough with her. I need to be inside her, claim her, ruin her.

25

ROSE

“Isaid don’t stop.” This man’s going to be the death of me. If he asks me to beg, I’m going to hit him over the head with my vibrator.

“When you come, it’ll be on my cock.” His voice is a deep raspy sound, as if he’s as desperate as I am.

“Do you have a condom?”

“In my wallet, but it might be out of date.”

“Why would you carry an out-of-date condom? Is that why the last one split? Do you just go around fathering kids who you have no intention of looking after?”

His eyes narrow, darkening with a dangerous promise. “That’s not fair, and you know it. Besides, you promised me you’d get the morning-after pill.”

“Yeah, well, waking up to the aftermath and devastation you left, the morning-after pill was the last thing on my mind.” With a huff, I climb from the bed and lift his suit jacket from the back of the chair. “Where’s your wallet?”

“Inside pocket.” He rolls onto his side with a smile. “I am clean, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I raise my brow. “It’s your supersonic sperm I’m worried about.” I pull a foiled packet from his wallet. “Got it. Just a few months out of date. I’ll take my chances.”

“You not on the pill?”

“I don’t sleep around and I haven’t had a relationship in years, so I have no reason to be on the pill.” I look at the out-of-date condom and back to him, chewing on my lip. “When was the last time you…” I climb back onto the bed, my eyes fixed on the silver bar.

“I can’t remember. It’s been a while.” He leans back against the headboard, takes the condom from me, and tears it open with his teeth.

My heart races with the anticipation of having him inside me. I crave him, but I’m not sure if it’s him I want or the feeling he gave me when I was under a false sense of love. I haven’t felt it since, to feel completely safe and cherished by someone other than my mother. It’s not just about the sex. He made me feel safe just being in his presence. The way he looked at me made me feel like a queen. To have that ripped away and shattered into a million pieces, it’s been hard to trust anyone since. Magnus never had my heart. Even if he weren’t a monster, the only pieces I had left of my heart belonged to my son.

“Let me.” I take the condom from him and straddle his legs as I roll it down over the tip. “Is it even safe to have sex with someone with a piercing like this? Without a condom, I mean. What if it came off inside?”

“It’s fine. It’s not going to come off.” His smile reaches his eyes as his fingers tug at my dressing gown. “Take this off.”

I hold my dressing gown, not ready to bare myself to him completely. So much time has passed between us, so many things have happened and I don’t want anything to distract him from this moment. But with my long hair and the camisole, I think I can lose the gown.

“And this.” He fingers the lace around my camisole nightdress.

Placing both hands on his chest, I lean over him. “My terms remember.” I shuffle up his body, running my fingers through the hairs on his chest.

He lines himself up with my entrance and I lower myself onto him, the thick head stretching the tight muscle there.

“All right,” he growls as I inch lower. “But next time it’s on my terms.”

I sink farther down, my head lolling back at the burning stretch. “There won’t be a next time,” I say, my head spinning, delirious with pleasure, and I know I’m lying because one time with D’Angelo is never enough. It wasn’t enough the last time and it won’t be enough this time.

He holds the missing pieces of my heart. He’s the only one who can smooth out my jagged parts, but I can’t forget he caused the sharpest edges. After everything I went through, his betrayal is the one that cut the deepest. So deep, I’m not sure it can ever be healed.

“Look at me, fiore mio.”

I drop my gaze, locking eyes with him, and my walls clench. It’s intense, hypnotising, and all previous thoughts are forgotten as I’m lost in the silvery-grey and blue flecks of his eyes. It’s like coming home to the silver lake at Villa Borghese, the dusky sky on a flight, and the Mediterranean Sea on a calm day.

My body shivers as I roll my hips. I feel everything. The pulse in his cock, the piercing stimulating something inside of me, but I wish we didn’t have a barrier. The condom is just a metaphor for the barrier between us. Our rival families, the betrayal, my past. So many reasons we shouldn’t be together, but one reason outweighs them all. Love.

I shake my head, stealing my gaze from his. No. I can’t love him. I can’t. We barely know each other. Everything I thought I knew about him was a lie, yet I sacrificed my freedom for him and I’d do it again. I’d sacrifice my life in the hopes that one day my son can know what it’s like to have a decent father.

“Hey.” Dan’s palm is hot on my cheek as he brings my gaze back in line with his. “Focus on me. I lost you there.” His teeth sink into my breast over the satin fabric of my camisole, and he sucks on my nipple through the fabric.

I cradle his head against me as I rock my hips faster, desperate for a release. “I won’t be long, Dan.”

“I’m right there with you, Rose.” He looks into my eyes, “Come on my cock, sweetheart. Come for me, just like you did the last time we made love.”

My body shudders against him. Is this what we’re doing? Making love? I thought we were just fucking. Scratching an itch, getting it out of our system, but I realise now that with him, it will never be just sex. We have too much history.

His fingers tangle in my hair at the back of my head and he makes a fist, guiding me down to his lips, but I turn away from him, letting him kiss my neck instead. The metal bar hits the delicious spot inside me and I rock my hips harder, grinding my clit against his pelvis as I bury my head in his neck, kissing him there as he does the same to me and I come undone, a quivering mess, vibrating on his lap.

My toes curl, my arms tighten around his shoulders as I hold on for dear life as my orgasm tears through me, wracking my bones and turning them to jelly. Panting into his neck, I let out a whimper, a sob as I whisper, “Come with me.”

“D’Angelo.” My walls pulse around him as he tightens his fist in my hair and thrusts into me from the bottom, groaning into my neck as he spills his release into the condom. I wish I could feel his warmth spill into me. I wish I could do this every day. I wish so many things, but most of all, I wish I could trust him.

His hot breath pants into my neck. “You feel fucking amazing.” His lips trail over my jaw, but I turn my head away further. He holds my face in his hand. “Kiss me.”

I look away, knowing if I look him in the eye, I’ll give in to his demands. “I can’t Dan, please don’t ask me to.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too personal with you.”

He chuckles, making me shake with him. “You let me French kiss your pussy, but not your mouth.”

“Kissing you hurts too much, Dan. Please. I can’t risk my heart with you again.”

His lips hover an inch from mine, his breath warm. Our gazes locked. “You don’t have to trust me yet. Just… let me keep trying.”

I nod once, and hold his face in my palms as I press my forehead to his. Every part of me wants to kiss him, to feel how I did back then, but the memories are too painful. I can’t go back to being that girl again. The one who waited in the rose garden every day with a dream he never came back for.

He exhales a breath, then presses a kiss to the side of my cheek. “All right. I won’t force you to do anything, but I will earn your trust again. I promise.”

I bite my lip. The need to kiss him tugs at my heart, but my mind won’t allow it. I need to keep my heart out of it. This is just sex. I push against his chest to climb off before I give in, but he holds me firmly in place.

“Don’t move. Not yet.” He swipes the hair from my face and gazes into my eyes.

I let him hold me a moment longer, breathing him in, willing myself not to want more than this. The memories reflect in his eyes. The man I loved is still there, as if calling to me from another time. It’s hypnotising and soul-crushing all at the same time.

Just sex, I remind myself. But the truth clings to me, no matter how hard I try to shake it. I want the kiss. I want him.

He kisses my breasts again over the camisole, then trails his lips over my skin to my neck. Another exhale fans my cheek. “I wish we could do this tomorrow.” He kisses my ear and whispers, “And the next day.”

“Well, if you promise to do that thing again with your tongue, I might be able to clear my schedule.” I quirk my lips. “I mean, I’d have to cancel my date with Jake Gyllenhaal and Henry Cavill, but I’m sure I can catch up with them another time.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can’t come back to England with you tomorrow. I need to stay here for a few days and take care of a few things. My brother, Dom, will be around if you need anything.”

“But you told Angelos⁠—”

He presses his finger to my mouth. “I won’t miss my son’s birthday for the world. I’ll be back in time. Trust me on that.”

26

DAN

Midnight wraps around me like a cold cloak. The veil of night makes it easier to stay under the radar as we scope out Matteo’s father, Vincenzo Messina. Crouched outside a container terminal at the Port of Civitavecchia isn’t how I pictured my weekend, but I’d promised my cousin I’d help him, and according to my research, this is where the Messina crime family conduct a lot of trade. Trafficking, weapons, drugs. Just another night at the office for scum like them.

The salty tang of the sea bites at my skin. The wind pulls at the edges of my jacket like a warning, while shadows stretch long across the loading docks, giving us plenty of cover.

Matteo passes me the night-vision binoculars, his jaw clenched so tight I can hear the faint grind of teeth. He hasn’t said much. He doesn’t need to.

Through the scope, I scan the terminal. Nothing yet. Just flickers of movement—dock workers maybe, or hired muscle, but no sign of his father. I adjust the focus, squinting.

“It makes me sick.” Matteo spits, his voice low. “That I could be related to someone so wicked.”

A thin older male comes in to view. “Hell, is that…?” Matteo whispers.

“Your father?” I ask, looking through the binoculars. “Yeah. That’s him.”

Without hesitation, Matteo draws an automatic from the holster strapped to his back and lines up the shot on instinct. Pure rage guiding his hand. Like it’s the only option that makes sense.

I understand all too well the urge to make things right and end the chaos with a single shot. Carefully, I place my hand on his forearm. “Matteo, are you sure that’s wise? Think about this for a moment. We haven’t planned for this. Our only goal was to have multiple sets of eyes on the transfer of the girls so we can intervene when they least suspect. I thought our mission here was to return them to their homes, not start a war with the Messinas.” I hold my breath, hoping he hears me and doesn’t make a rash decision that changes everything.

He lowers the rifle with a sigh and hangs his head low. “You’re probably right.”

The tight coil in my chest eases. I press the binoculars to my eyes again, scanning the dock, wondering what changed his mind. “Nico,” I whisper. Matteo’s brother, my estranged cousin, then just behind him, another familiar face. “What the fuck?” I adjust the scope, but there’s no mistaking that ugly bastard with the jagged scar on his cheek.

“What is it?” Matteo takes another look through the lens.

A cold, sour taste creeps up the back of my throat like bile, mixing with rage. “That’s Magnus Berlusconi.” My voice is flat, but my pulse thunders in my ears. “Rose’s husband.” My chest tightens, blood roaring behind my eyes. I grip the binoculars until my knuckles ache. The rifle slung over Matteo’s back has never looked more tempting.

I watch Magnus shake hands with Vincenzo’s man, and a crate marked with Conti symbols rolls by in the background. “He’s working with the Messinas.”

“How so?” Matteo pulls his brows together, taking another look through the lens.

“He’s intercepting trade… trade that was never meant for him. I need to figure out what he’s up to.”

If Magnus is working with Vincenzo Messina, then Rose’s husband just sold his soul to the devil. I scrub a hand over my jaw, wondering if Elio knows Magnus is lifting shipments. It would be the perfect time to attack the Conti family, while Elio is preoccupied with his mother’s pneumonia. Magnus isn’t just playing dirty—he’s making a power move. And if Elio finds out, it’ll be war. Maybe Magnus is trying to form new alliances now he’s out of jail and further down the pecking order. The crime syndicate in London isn’t as powerful as it once was.

The docks clear out and I lean back against an old, rusty container.

“I wish we could just blow the lot to smithereens and be done with it all.” Matteo leans back against the container with me.

“Same, cuz.” I pull out my pack of gum and offer him one like it’s a smoke, pretending it’ll take the edge off. Fuck, I’d kill for a cigarette right now.

He takes the gum offered with a silent chuckle, shaking his shoulders. “Is this the best you can offer?”

“It’s the only thing I’ve got.” A tired laugh escapes me, and he joins in. I turn to him, the weight of family, betrayal, and legacy sitting heavy on my chest. “You did the right thing, Matteo. Once you return home, I vow to keep you abreast of anything I hear. Riccardo and his men will keep tabs on things while I’m back in the UK. I support whatever you want to do as far as Vincenzo Messina is concerned.” I squeeze his shoulder in solidarity. “Trust me, cugino. If you decide to come back and finish the job, I’m your right-hand man. I’m merely asking you to consider having a plan in place to deal with the fallout when they attempt to retaliate. Because they will retaliate.”

I look back towards the now-empty dock, my thoughts drifting to Rose. My priority. My one regret.

She’s still tangled in this web of power and blood. The sooner I cut Magnus out of her life, the better. I need to track him, gather intel on the bastard, and end this once and for all. But I made a promise to her and my son. I won’t miss his birthday.

27

DAN

Rose answers the door in a cotton dress after I told her to dress casual.

I lean in to kiss her, but she turns her head to the side as always, letting me kiss her cheek. “You look nice.”

“Thanks.” Her gaze floats over my City FC football shirt and jeans. She quirks her lips. “I thought you were a United supporter?”

“I gotta impress the kid, right?” I glance down at the light-blue fabric and the ship-and-rose emblem on the shirt. Dom ribbed me to death about this, but if this is gonna get me closer to my son, then so be it. “If anyone can pull off this shit, it’s me, right?” I stuff my hands into my pockets and rock back on my heels in my trainers.

This whole outfit isn’t me. I’m much more comfortable in a suit. It’s not often I get to relax and do fun stuff unless I’m at the bar with Dom and the lads.

She places a hand on my chest and pats it. “I’m sure he’ll be impressed.”

“You ready to go?”

“Yep.” She slips on some flat shoes and lifts a large shopping bag from the console table.

I take the bag from her and walk to the car, opening the boot and setting the bag full of gifts inside. Sliding behind the wheel, my foot taps on the floor, causing my leg to shake.

Rose places her hand on my knee. “Don’t be nervous.”

I glance down at her hand on my knee, my smirk tugging wider. “Didn’t realise you cared.”

Rose doesn’t even look at me. “I don’t. But if your leg shakes any harder, you might stall the car, and I’d really like to get there before kickoff.”

I snort, turning the key in the ignition. “So bossy.”

“I learnt from the master.”

“No wonder we get along so well.”

She shoots me a withering look. “We don’t get along.”

I shift into gear, flicking my gaze to her. “That’s not what you were saying the other night.”

Her jaw tightens, and she stares out the window, completely unamused. “That was a lapse in judgment.”

I grin, pulling onto the road. “You have a lot of those when I’m around.”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “If I ignore you, will you just drive?”

I tap my fingers against the wheel. “I am driving.” I pause just long enough to make her think I’m done. “But don’t stop talking. It’s cute when you try to pretend you don’t like me.”

Rose mutters something under her breath that I don’t quite catch.

“Come again?” I smirk, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel. “Oh, you already did that the other night.”

Rose stiffens beside me, her gaze fixed out the window, but I don’t miss the way her fingers tighten in her lap. “You’re disgusting.”

“You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t like me, you had a real hard time staying quiet in that hotel room.”

“Are you deliberately trying to piss me off, or do you just not know when to stop talking when you’re nervous?”

I bite back a grin. “I’m just saying… that little noise you made? Right before you⁠—”

“D’Angelo,” she clips, like she’s barely holding on.

It shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does. I chuckle, throwing her a sideways glance. “You full-name me when you’re flustered or mid-orgasm.”

Her head snaps towards me. “I’m not flustered or mid-orgasm.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re definitely flustered.”

She exhales, arms crossing tight over her chest, and I can practically feel the heat rolling off her.

I tap my fingers against my thigh. “I think that’s why we work so well together.”

“We don’t work.”

“Oh, we definitely work.” I flick my gaze to her again, watching the way her lips press together, like she’s trying to stop herself from remembering. “I make you forget how much you hate me.”

Her fingers tighten in her lap because we both know the truth. The other night, with my name falling from those perfect lips, her body trembling in my lap—she wasn’t thinking about hating me. She was coming undone for me. And if I wasn’t already in too deep, I’d probably let her pretend otherwise. But I never make things easy for her. And I don’t plan to start now.

“Do you remember where you’re going?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s up here, isn’t it?” I take a right off the motorway and onto a country road that leads to the boarding school tucked away on the outskirts of the city. My foot taps again. Rose’s right, I’m fucking nervous as hell, and she noticed the minute she got in the car.

My palms sweat against the steering wheel as I pull up at the gates. Rose taps in the code on the gate and I wait for them to open.

“I’ll go in and get him. Just relax and be yourself like you were the other night.”

“Which night?”

She rolls her eyes. “And this is why I’m never sleeping with you again.”

I chuckle as she climbs out of the car and struts towards the old prestigious building. Damn, she fills out that dress to perfection. Cotton fabric pulls taught over her hips and flares to the knee, classy and elegant just like her, and more sophisticated than the sundresses she used to wear. But I still want to bury my fingers in the flesh of her hips.

I lean my head back on the seat and text Dom.

Any news?

Within seconds, he’s video calling. His eyes widen when he sees me, but it's not exactly a good kind of wide.

“Are you seriously wearing that?”

I glance down at the City shirt, the badge practically mocking me. “Yeah, yeah. We’re gonna go through this again, huh?”

“You’re lucky I got you those bloody tickets,” he mutters, leaning back in his chair. “First chance I get, I’m taking this kid to a United game. He needs educating.”

“Didn’t realise you cared so much.”

He scoffs. “I care enough not to let you disgrace the family name in front of my mates. They’ll all want to disown you if you show up wearing that shite.”

I roll my eyes. “Anyway, what’s the deal with the ex? Any news on his whereabouts?” I clench my fist, wishing I’d put a bullet in Magnus two nights ago when I had the chance.

Dom sits up straighter, dropping the smirk and going serious. “That’s what I’m calling about. He landed in Manchester last night and then his whereabouts are unknown. Did he respond to your text?”

I lean back, frustration building. “No, he’s not responding. I’m getting sick of this. If I can’t find him, Rose is gonna be in serious trouble. I can’t let that happen.”

“I know, I know,” he mutters, his expression softening. “Don’t worry, I’ve got my sources. We’ll find him.”

I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t like this, Dom. Not at all. Thank fuck she wasn’t on his flight.”

He looks like he’s about to say something, but then glances down at my shirt again. “Mate, I still can’t believe you’re going to a City match?”

I take a deep breath. “I’m trying to keep it together here, Dom.”

“I’ll find the bastard,” he says, but I can hear the grin in his voice. “You can relax at the game. A City match is the last place anyone would look for you.”

“Me, yes, but maybe it’s the first place he’d look for Rose and Angelos.”

“You’re smart enough to know if you’re being tailed. There’s enough security at these events. Try not to let it ruin your time with your son.”

“Thanks for the help. Seriously.”

Dom gives a half-hearted wave, his attention already back on his computer. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me regret this, you traitor.”

I hang up before he can say anything else, leaning back in my seat and glancing out of the window as Rose and Angelos walk towards the car, the weight of what’s coming next pressing down on me. I have no idea why Magnus is in Manchester or what he’s up to, but I’ll be ready for it. For Rose.

As soon as Angelos slides into the back seat, I glance at him in the mirror. “Happy birthday, pal.”

He looks up from pulling his seatbelt on and gives me a wary nod. “Thanks.”

Rose settles in beside me, adjusting her bag. “How was school?”

“Fine.” He leans back, then frowns, his expression pensive. “Are you two, like… dating now?”

“No,” Rose croaks.

“But this is the second time this week Dan’s been with you?”

I arch a brow. “What, I need a permission slip to hang out with your mum?”

He shrugs. “Just seems weird. Mum never brings anyone around.”

Rose clears her throat. “Dan’s just a friend.”

Angelos doesn’t look convinced. “You don’t have friends.”

I chuckle as Rose glares at him. “Thanks, Angelos.”

He just shrugs again, unbothered. “I’m just saying. So if you’re not dating, what are you?”

I huff. “Complicated.”

Rose elbows me. “He’s joking.”

“Anyway, where do you want to eat? It’s only right the birthday boy gets to pick.”

“Can we get pizza?”

“Sure.” I turn onto the main road and head towards the city. My shoulders relax now I have them both in my sight. Is this what it’s like being a parent, living in a constant state of anxiety and worrying about their safety and well-being?

Rose shifts in her seat so she’s facing the back. I don’t interrupt while she and Angelos catch up and he tells her all about school.

I can’t help but smile as I listen to their conversation. My chest fills with warmth that I’m able to share in this and be part of his world, even if I am just his mum’s friend for now. Baby steps.

We’ve barely sat down at the restaurant before Angelos points at my chest. “Dude… you’re wearing a City shirt?”

I glance down at it, as if I’ve forgotten. “Looks that way.”

His brows pull together. “I thought you were a United fan.”

“Damn it… Must have bought the wrong one. I meant to get the City one for you and the United one for me.” I hand him a wrapped present with a smirk on my face.

He assesses me with excitement dancing in his eyes, but a hint of wariness at the same time.

“Open it. If it suits you, I’ll take you to a game.”

“Bruh, no way did you get me a—” The blue fabric comes into view as the strips of torn paper fall to the floor. “The new City shirt,” he shouts.

I can’t contain my smile and the warmth that spreads around my body.

“Mum, look. I can’t believe you got me the new shirt. Thanks Dan.”

“Well, I couldn’t have you going to the game in an old one, could I?”

He looks up between me and Rose. “The friendly tonight?”

“Yeah.” I check my watch. “You have about sixty minutes to eat before the game starts.”

“Mum, can you believe it? We’re going to watch City play.”

“It was your mum’s idea. I just got the tickets.”

He throws his arms around Rose. “Thanks Mum.”

My heart stutters. I suppose this is the joy of being a dad when brief moments like this make up for all the other stuff.

Rose kisses the top of his head and catches my eye with a sympathetic smile, then she says quietly, but just enough for me to hear, “Why don’t you give Dan a hug to say thank you? He’s gone to a lot of trouble to get tickets for tonight.”

Angelos nods. And turns to me. “Thanks, bro.” His wiry arms wrap around my shoulder and he pats my back.

I let out a chuckle as I give him the same awkward hug back, when all I want to do is wrap him up in my arms like Rose did. All in good time. Small steps, I remind myself as I smile at Rose and she reaches a hand on the curved back rest in the circular booth we’re sitting in. I do the same, my arm resting behind Angelos, my fingers touching hers, causing electricity to zing around my limbs.

Angelos pulls back from the hug, still grinning as he looks down at the shirt in his hands. “Can I put it on now?”

Rose gives him a pointed look. “After you’ve eaten.”

As if summoned by magic, a waiter appears with a tray full of steaming pizzas and bowls of fries. The smell of melted cheese and garlic fills the air.

“Yes!” Angelos practically snatches a slice before the plates even touch the table.

“Slow down,” Rose says, handing him a napkin.

“Can’t. I don’t want to miss kickoff.”

I hand Rose a slice of pepperoni. “Is this parenting? Negotiating with a hungry thirteen-year-old and losing every time?”

“Every single day.” She meets my eyes with the smallest smile. “Welcome to the club.” She reaches for the pepper and passes it to me on instinct.

Our fingers touch again, a surge of electricity zapping through me, knowing she remembered I have pepper on my pizza. Our eyes lock and we share a knowing look. A familiarity and bond that time or distance cannot break.

Ketchup drips down Angelos’ chin and Rose wipes it for him.

“Mum.” He takes the napkin from her. “Want to wipe my bum while you’re at it?” He gives her a goofy grin and shoves more pizza into his mouth.

She rolls her eyes, then looks back at me, her arm going back to the backrest.

I chuckle, relaxing into the seat as the warmth of the moment settles in my chest. I lift my arm to the backrest too, needing to touch her, even if it is just our fingertips.

Her fingers graze mine where they rest on the curved backrest. She doesn’t move away. Neither do I.

Angelos glances between us again, squinting as if he’s sensed the crackling tension between us. “Are you sure you two aren’t a thing?”

Rose’s whole body stiffens. “No.” Rose sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Dan is just a friend.”

I lean forward, elbows on the table, and shoot him a grin. “What, you don’t think your mum’s got good taste?”

His face scrunches up. “Ew, no. Stop. I’m eating.”

Rose glares at me. “Exactly. So can we not?”

I lift my hands in surrender, chuckling.

Rose exhales, and for the briefest moment, I see the hint of a smile playing at her lips. Then she nudges my foot under the table, her way of telling me to behave.

I nudge her back.

Because let’s face it—I never behave.

Rose raises a brow. “Dessert?”

“No time. We’ve got a game to get to.” Angelos taps his new City shirt like it’s a badge of honour. “Can I have another drink, though?”

“Priorities.” I grin. “Kid’s got his head screwed on right.”

Rose sighs, looking between the two of us. “Great. Now there’s two of you.”

I lean back, unable to contain my grin. “Took you this long to notice?”

She gives me a sharp look before turning to Angelos. “Diet Coke. I don’t need you bouncing off the walls at the stadium.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue as he grabs his glass and squeezes past me in the booth to fill his drink at the dispenser.

We both watch him like a hawk and I catch myself smiling like an idiot. The way Rose handles him—firm, but with an ease that says she’s got this whole parenting thing down—is something I could watch all day.

When he returns, he sits opposite me in the booth, sucking his drink through a straw. “So, Dan.”

I glance at him. “Yeah?”

His eyes narrow slightly, like he’s assessing me. “Mum says you’re just a friend.”

Rose tenses beside me. I can feel it even though we’re not touching anymore.

I tilt my head, playing along. “Yeah?”

He studies me. “But you don’t look like just a friend.”

Rose groans. “Angelo⁠—”

“Nah, it’s all right.” I flash him a lazy grin. “What do I look like then?”

He crosses his arms. “Someone trying to impress my mum.”

I glance at Rose, who is now very pointedly staring at the salt shaker as if it holds the meaning of life.

Smirking, I turn back to Angelos. “You think I’d wear this”—I gesture to the City shirt—“for just any woman?”

He snorts. “Fair point.”

Rose finally looks up, exhaling through her nose. “Angelos, finish your drink.”

He shrugs. “I’m just saying, if he’s trying to impress you, he’s going all in. New shirt. Match tickets.” He leans over the table, putting a hand to his mouth as if trying to whisper to just me. “If you really want to impress her, she likes days out at Alton Towers, and she’s always wanted a VR headset.”

Rose leans over and ruffles his hair. “Hey.”

I bark out a laugh. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m still recovering from this shirt choice.”

Angelos laughs, clearly enjoying winding his mum up. Rose, on the other hand, looks like she’s debating whether to strangle me or her son first.

Before she can speak, the waiter returns with our bill, and Angelos leans forward, dropping the subject. “Okay, serious question—who do you think is gonna score first tonight?”

Rose exhales in relief, but when I glance at her, she’s still watching me. There’s a secret in her eyes—something she won’t say. Maybe she’s scared to admit it to herself.

And just like that, we’re just three people talking football like any normal family.

After settling the bill, I knock back the rest of my drink, rising from the table after Angelos and Rose. “What do you reckon?” I hold the door as we walk out of the restaurant, full of pizza and love for a family I never knew I had or wanted.

Angelos races ahead down the street, talking a mile a minute about the starting lineup. I trail behind with Rose, watching him with a strange ache in my chest.

Her pinky grazes against mine as we walk side by side and I feel that spark again, the one that sets my heart on fire.

“He’s excited,” she says.

“Yeah.” I swallow hard and hook my pinky around hers. “So am I.” I flash her a wink, and for the first time, hope settles in my chest. I’m not excited for the game, but for a life I never thought possible.

Her lips curve into a smile as she holds on to my little finger, and I know she remembers the rose garden as our eyes lock briefly before she turns her attention back to her son.

Our son.

28

ROSE

The night air is crisp as the boys walk back to the car, animated after the game and talking about the goals. With no clue who is who, I just enjoyed watching them enjoy the game. I couldn’t care less about football, but I care about them. Even if I won’t admit I care about Dan, I do. Tonight was a glimpse of how our life could be. It’s a nice reality, one I could be happy in. But fairy tales don’t exist in my world.

The drive back to the boarding school falls quiet with nothing but the sultry sounds of the radio at this late hour. I wish we could take Angelos home with us. Sometimes I want to keep him with me all the time just so I know he’s safe. But he has school tomorrow.

Dan slows as he pulls up to the iron gates of the elite boarding school, only affordable with my brother’s money.

I tap in the code, then turn back to Angelos, who’s fast asleep on the back seat. “Dan, look.”

He turns his head and smiles. “Shall we just take him home?”

He’s thinking the same as me.

Angelos stirs. “Are we here already?” He unclips his belt and climbs out of the car.

“Well, you fell asleep.” I wrap an arm around him. “Want to stay here tonight or come home?”

“I’m here now.”

I walk him to the halls and sign him in. My heart always aches when I have to leave him. “So what do you think of Dan, then?”

“He’s cool.” His head tilts looking up at me. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No.” I swallow, twiddling the strap on my bag. “But I like him.” I hold my breath, waiting for his response, shocked at my own admission.

Angelos’ brow furrows. “What about Dad?”

I close my eyes for a brief moment. The mention of Magnus sends a frigid chill through my bloodstream. “I’m never getting back with him. I thought you knew that.”

Angelos shrugs as we stand outside his room. “I thought when he got out we’d be a family again.”

“That’s never going to happen.” I grit my teeth, wishing I’d been truthful with Angelos from the start, but I never wanted him to think his father was a piece of scum who deserved to be in prison. Instead, I told him he was set up, hailed him a hero. So many lies have been told that I’m stuck in a tangled web of deceit and deception and I can’t seem to find a way out.

“Dad won’t be happy. Does he know?”

“I haven’t spoken to your dad in years.”

“Maybe you can send him a letter.”

I give him a fake smile, words clogging up my throat. Those bloody letters have been the bane of my existence. I should have just let Angelos know when he was little that it wasn’t his real father, instead of sending him fake letters at birthdays and Christmas because I never wanted my son to feel unloved by a father like I was. “Yes, I’ll do that.” I give him a hug. “Want me to tuck you in?”

“Mum. That’s so cringe. Nobody has their mum in the rooms.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you to it. Love you.”

“Love you.”

I rub at the ache in my chest as I walk past the check-in and nod to the house leader. I don’t know what’s going to happen or how we’re gonna work this out, but all I know is that right now, the only place I want to be is in Dan’s arms.

My steps quicken as I rush back to the car, holding my cardigan closed over my breasts to block out the chill. Cool air nips at my face, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my heart. Leaving Angelos always does this to me. Thunder sounds in the distance, and my heart thumps, as if keeping pace with the building storm. I run the last few steps before the rain starts.

A shiver goes through me as I get in the car just as the rain patters against the window. The smell of the leather interior and Dan’s aftershave surrounds me, grounding me, even as my emotions whirl like a brewing storm in my head.

“Everything all right?” Dan extends a hand, squeezing my shoulder, his touch warm and steady. “You cold?” He turns the heat up in the car and sets the wipers going.

“I hate leaving him.” My voice cracks, and I swallow, pushing down my swelling emotions. I hold my hands against the blowers.

Dan takes one of my hands in his and brings it to his lips, his mouth lingering against my knuckles with the softest brush of warmth that sends a shudder down my spine. “We’ll come back Friday and pick him up after school.”

I nod and smile, our eyes locked for a beat too long. The air shifts, thick and heavy, full of unspoken words I’m not ready to say. “We need to get home before the storm starts.”

“I think it’s already started.” Dan turns the ignition, his gaze flicking to my lips as if he’s fighting the same pull I am.

He drives out of the school grounds, his hand gripping the wheel, ink rippling on his forearm as he changes gears. It’s enough to have me salivating between my thighs.

As if seeing him with our son tonight wasn’t enough to make my ovaries pop, then this’ll do it. I know it’s reckless and maybe it’s wrong, but right now, logic doesn’t stand a chance against this need. I’m probably gonna be pregnant before the week’s out. I don’t know how much longer I can resist him or why I even need to resist him. It’s clear my body craves this. I should just give in to the temptation.

We drive down the motorway, the rain coming down hard and the wipers on full. Lightning flashes, zigzagging across the night’s sky. Each crack of thunder vibrates through me, amplifying the pounding in my chest.

“Pull over.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve driven in worse.” Dan reaches over the centre console and holds my hand. His thumb strokes slow circles against my palm, soothing yet igniting all at once. “I won’t go above fifty.”

“It’s not the weather.” I move his hand to my thigh, my skin burning beneath his touch. My breath comes out in short bursts. I slide his hand under my dress, inching farther up my thigh until he reaches the apex. I’m so turned on, it’s unbearable, a tension coiled so tight inside me, it’s about to snap.

Dan’s jaw slackens. He glances sideways. “Really?”

I gulp and nod. No more overthinking or hesitating. “Pull over onto the hard shoulder.”

“Fuck.” He swerves into the slow lane, the car slows down as he slips onto the hard shoulder, flashing his hazards.

As he pulls the handbrake, I unbuckle my seatbelt and climb onto his lap, straddling him like I belong there, because maybe I do. The steering wheel digs into my back, but I don’t care.

“You’re gonna get us arrested,” he says with a grin, then slides his seat back, giving me more room between him and the steering wheel. “I’d gladly have a night in a cell if it means I get to fuck you.” His voice is rough and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together.

Sultry late-night music plays through the stereo, barely audible with the rain beating against the roof. Headlights blur through the rain-streaked window. The world outside fades, leaving just the two of us and the crackle of electricity between us.

“Thank you for today.” I take his face in my hands, his short beard soft beneath my palms, his breath warm and ragged as it falls onto my lips.

“You don’t have to thank me for doing something nice for my own son.” His arms wrap around my waist, holding me tight as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

“But I want to.” My lips brush against his. Our noses kiss. Every touch sparks against my skin and ignites something deep inside me. “I want you.” I press my lips to his mouth briefly, then pull away to read his expression.

His eyes darken, his hold on me tightens as if I might change my mind. “Kiss me again,” he says with desperation in his voice, as if he’s been waiting for this just as long as I have.

I lean down, this time, my lips linger against his, soft as I probe with my tongue. My body quivers on his lap, tingles fire off in my centre and it’s everything I’ve craved, but not allowed myself to admit. I let my fingers roam through his hair, closing my fist and tugging on the short strands, not wanting to let him go. My tongue slips farther into his mouth, tangling with his. This is more than lust, more than just need. It’s home.

D’Angelo deepens the kiss, his tongue dominating now. His hands are all over me, tangling in my hair, sliding up my dress, we’re a frenzy of teeth, hands and tongue as I try to take over the kiss, but he’s not letting up as his fist scrunches my hair at the back of my head, keeping my face planted against his and at the angle he requires.

My hips rock against him, the zipper of his jeans catching against the lace of my knickers.

He breaks the kiss, only to inhale a lungful of air. “I want you too, fiore mio.” His tongue licks at my mouth. “I need you.”

“I need you, too.” Reaching between us, I unbuckle his belt. “I need you inside of me.”

“I don’t have a condom.”

“Good. Let me feel you spill inside of me.”

“Oh fuck. Keep talking like that and I won’t last long enough, baby.” Dan growls as if he’s in pain as he unzips his jeans and pulls his dick free of his boxers. It’s difficult to see with my dress bunched around my belly, but I feel everything. And when the head of his cock and the metal bar slides through my folds, I shudder. “Move your knickers to the side more, before I tear them from your body.”

The anticipation makes me dizzy as I do as I’m told. “Dan…” My voice is barely a whisper. “You’re making me fall for you all over again.”

He stills, fingers flexing around my waist. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

Lighting sparks as the metal piercing hits my clit again.

I slide onto him, moaning as he stretches me to the hilt. “D’Angelo,” I shout, my head lolling back, as another crack of lightning lights up the sky, lighting up my heart and jolting it back to life. This is more than just physical. It’s the past colliding with the present. A reminder that I’ve only ever truly belonged to him.

“I’m here, Rose,” he groans against my neck, his hands under the lace of my knickers, kneading my cheeks and grinding against me. “My beautiful Rose.”

Our eyes lock again, the crackle of electricity all around us. I kiss his lips again, unable to get enough of him. My body starved of his kisses for so long and now I need them all at once. All the missed kisses from the last thirteen years.

I rock against him, but my back hits the steering wheel, my knees squashed at either side of his seat. “There’s not much room to move.”

“Squeeze my dick, baby. Milk me.” He thrusts up from the bottom, bouncing me on his lap.

I clench my muscles around him as if building up my pelvic floor.

“That’s it,” he whispers against my lips. “Just like that, fiore mio.”

I wrap my arms around his neck as I moan into his mouth. Each time my walls clamp down around him, his dick throbs. I feel everything from the beating of his heart, his breath on my lips and the pulse of his cock inside of me. Yet it’s still not enough. The L word lingers on my tongue. I need him to make love to me, make me forget everything and take me back in time almost fourteen years, where my biggest worry was what dress to wear to meet him.

“Fuck, you feel so good, squeezing my cock like that.” He kisses me, breathing heavily against my lips as if he’s trying not to come. “Feel that?” His cock twitches inside me. “It’s yours. Use me, milk me. Get yourself off on my dick, baby.”

I’m delirious with pleasure, neither of us moving—just holding each other, locked together like we were always meant to be. Like thunder and lightning. Two different forces, but the same intense storm.

A flashlight shines through the window.

I jump, but Dan holds me close. His grip on my hips tightens, his body still locked inside mine. “Don’t move. Stay right there.”

A police badge presses against the window.

“Shit. You’d think they’d have better things to do in this weather.”

“Let me handle this.” Dan strokes my hair, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck. His heartbeat is a steady thump against my chest, keeping me calm. His other hand presses the button that opens the window a little. “Hello officer.”

The torch shines in the car. I tense, feeling the heat of Dan still hard inside me.

“What’s going on here?” A deep voice says.

“My wife here has PTSD. I’m just calming her down with the thunder,” Dan says with a smooth, controlled exterior, but his body vibrates beneath me, his erection throbbing inside me with pure adrenaline and an undeniable thrill.

The torch shines between us, highlighting my exposed thigh. A wave of heat floods my body as I squeeze around Dan, unable to help it.

Dan places his hand on my exposed thigh, his touch both protective and possessive. His eyes narrow, his voice deepens. “Are we going to have a problem, officer?”

His dick twitches inside me as I grip him, my fists clinging to the back of his shirt as the heat between us intensifies.

“I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.”

Dan holds my gaze, stroking the back of my hair. He’s steady. Always steady, despite the slight flare in his nostrils and a tick in his jaw that’s not readable to the untrained eye. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m just going to grab my ID from my wallet.” He lifts his hips, his metal piercing hits a spot inside me, and I stifle a moan by biting my lip.

My entire body clenches, the intensity unbearable. The heat in the car like an inferno.

Dan soothes my back. “You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

I hold on to him, not wanting to let go, not wanting this moment to end. Not even the police officer at the window can extinguish the fire between us. My walls clamp down around him, tingles build in my clit and as Dan shuffles in his seat, the metal piercing hitting a spot inside me, I can’t hold it in any longer.

I bury my head in the crook of his neck, my fist clenching his shirt. A faint whimper breaking free on an exhale as my sex pulses around him, gripping his thick shaft and pooling with arousal.

Dan shows the cop his ID. “Do I need to make a phone call or are we good, officer?”

His face pales and steps backwards. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir.” He points at the logo on the sleeve of Dan’s shirt. “Good game tonight?”

“The best.” Dan pushes the button on the door, muffling the officer’s voice to the rain hitting the window. Then cups my face with a smirk as he shouts, “Goodnight, officer.”

The officer steps away, his torchlight flickering over the rain-slickened road as he heads back to his patrol car. The moment the beam vanishes, I release the breath I was holding and giggle into Dan’s neck.

“You were tormenting me on purpose, weren’t you?” Dan’s hot breath caresses my cheek as he laughs. His nose scrunching up in that annoying way is now endearing and I kiss him there. “Do you know how hard it was to not explode while you came on my cock?”

“I know exactly how hard it is.” I clench around him and kiss his lips.

Dan’s hands are still on me, grounding me, but my mind is spinning.

I lift my head to gaze into his eyes, my breath still shallow. “What the hell did you show him?”

Dan grins, tracing slow circles on my back. “Just my ID.”

I narrow my eyes. “That wasn’t just a driver’s license. He practically saluted you before scurrying off.”

“Rose.” His tone is low, almost a warning. “Let it go.”

My brow furrows. “But how can I?” The way the officer changed—one moment all authority, the next backing away like he’d disturbed something far bigger than he could handle—doesn’t sit right.

Dan shifts me off his lap, adjusting himself with a hiss before helping me back into the passenger seat. The way he moves, the way he takes control of a situation without breaking a sweat… it’s not just confidence. It’s training. Probably years of being in the army, but what exactly does he do now?

My heart pounds as I buckle my seatbelt, my hands slightly shaking. “Who are you, Dan?”

He starts the car, his expression unreadable as he pulls back onto the road. “I’m the man who just got us out of a very awkward situation. And I’m the man who’s taking you home so I can fuck you properly and finish what we started.”

I should push. Demand answers. But right now, all I can do is stare at the rain-streaked window, my mind racing with the one truth I can’t ignore.

Dan isn’t just the man I once loved. He’s a man with secrets. And I have no idea what they are.

29

DAN

She’s like a fucking dog with a bone and won’t let it go.

I close her front door and lock it, setting the alarm. The soft beep echoes through the hall, but it does nothing to drown out her temper, or the fire in my belly.

“I think there’s been enough secrets between us, don’t you?” She throws her purse on the kitchen counter and kicks off her shoes, her tone clipped, her eyes sharp like laser-cut diamonds.

“Funny that the secrets between us were of your doing.” I match her hard stare but keep my voice low and controlled despite the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

She clenches her fists at her sides, her lips parting as if she’s about to argue—no, fight. And fuck, I love it when she fights.

“Ugh. You’re so annoying. You know that?”

I sneer, stepping closer, close enough that I can hear the sharp inhale of her breath. “So you keep telling me.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, her wide hip cocked, eyes full of heat. “What was on that ID, Dan?”

I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders. “Let it go, Rose.”

“Not happening.” She tilts her chin up, defiant as ever. “What are you? A cop? Military? A bloody spy?”

I huff out a laugh. “A spy? That’s what you think?”

She shrugs, but there’s a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “You don’t exactly scream ‘normal’ anymore. You’re different. Sharper. You take charge, you don’t hesitate, and people back down the second you flash that ID. You’re not just some guy who⁠—”

I grab her waist and tug her against me, forcing a startled gasp from her lips. “Not just some guy who what?” I murmur, my lips brushing her ear.

She stiffens, then glares up at me. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Distract me with… with this.” She gestures between us, but her hands tremble slightly, betraying her.

I slide a hand up her back, threading my fingers into her hair. “This?” I tug just enough to make her tilt her head back, exposing her throat, making her pulse hammer against her skin. “I thought you missed this.”

Her breath shudders. “That’s not the point.” I see the flicker in her eyes—a war between longing and pride—and my chest tightens, but I keep my grip firm, because I want her to know that no matter how much she fights me, she wants this too, even if she won’t admit it to herself.

“The point,” I murmur, my lips hovering over the pulse hammering beneath her skin, “is that you want answers.”

“Yes.”

“And I want you.”

Her lips part, her pupils blown wide. “Dan⁠—”

I brush my mouth against hers, teasing, barely a kiss. She sways towards me, her resolve cracking. I feel it in the way she grips my t-shirt, the way her body leans in despite the fight still raging in her eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” I challenge, my lips ghosting along her jaw. “If you really want to keep talking, tell me to stop.”

She sucks in a sharp breath but says nothing.

I smile against her skin. “That’s what I thought.” I slide my hands lower, over the curve of her hips, gripping tight before lifting her off the ground. She yelps, her legs instinctively wrapping around me, but she doesn’t stop fighting.

“This is manipulation,” she huffs, her hands fisting in my hair.

I lift her onto the counter, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass. “This is inevitability.”

Her nails bite into my shoulders. “You’re such a cocky bastard.”

“Yeah?” I say, unbuttoning her dress at the front. “And you love it.”

She glares at me, chest heaving. “Debatable.”

“Then let me convince you.” I dip my head, kissing her neck, the scent of her filling my lungs.

Her breath catches, her body already arching into mine. “Good luck with that,” she whispers.

“I don’t need luck, sweetheart.” I take her mouth, swallowing whatever argument she was about to make, drowning her in the thing that’s always been inevitable between us.

She resists—just for a second—before her hands clutch at my shirt, fingers fisting in the fabric like she’s torn between pushing me away and pulling me closer.

I slide my hands lower, over the curve of her hips, gripping tight before lifting her dress.

“You want answers?” I growl against her mouth. “Then you’re going to have to earn them.”

Her nails sink into my shoulders. “That so?”

“Yeah,” I pull my City shirt over my head and throw it to the floor where it belongs. “Now strip. I want you naked so I can worship you.”

Her face twist. “I can’t strip, Dan. I’m not comfortable being naked with you. Please don’t ask me.”

I lean my fists on the worktop on either side of her thighs and gaze into her eyes, wondering what’s going through that head of hers. “You straddled me in the car and came on my cock in front of a copper, but now you’re shy? Make it make sense.”

“I’m just not ready for you to see me naked.”

I can’t stop the small chuckle tumbling out of my mouth. “But I’ve seen you naked before.”

“Just let me get my dressing gown.”

I throw my hands up in the air. “Not the fucking dressing gown again.”

“Why are you angry?” She folds her arms over her chest, covering the white lace of her bra where her dress is unbuttoned.

I close my eyes, my hand flying to my head and gripping my hair in frustration. “I’m sorry. My balls have been fucking blue since the hard shoulder incident.”

“Maybe you should take a shower. You always seem in a better mood after a shower.” She smiles like she’s remembering something, her legs swinging as they dangle from her counter.

I slide my hand over the curve of her lace covered breast, the soft skin of her chest until I reach her neck and curl my fingers around the faint bruise left from my hickey. “If I’m taking a shower, you’re joining me. I want you on your knees sucking my cock.”

Her pulse quickens beneath my thumb. “I told you I’m not comfortable being naked.”

I grip her throat a little tighter, but not tight enough to hurt. Her eyes sparkle as if she enjoys the dominance but is too fucking stubborn to admit it. “And I told you I want you on your knees.” I release her throat and undo my belt, then tug down the zipper on my jeans. The wet patch of pre-cum on my boxers is fucking embarrassing, but that’s the least of my problems.

Her eyes drop to my engorged dick as if drawn to the silver piercing like a fucking magpie, her mouth lazily opening and drooling as she takes in the sight. A satisfied smirk tugs at my lips. She might fight me with her words, but her body never lies.

“I’m not a patient man, fiore mio and you’ve tested my patience for too long now.” I fist my dick, my eyelids flickering as heat floods my groin.

She jumps off the counter. My eyes lock with hers in a challenge. I’m about to twist her around, bend her over the counter and spank her silly for tormenting me so damn much, but she drops to her knees, her eyes lined up with my cock, and I’m actually surprised that she submitted to my demands. Could it be that she’s learning to trust me? A small step, but it’s one in the right direction.

Her delicate hand cups my balls and massages them, then she peels my fingers from my length and wraps hers around the shaft, taking over my movements.

A groan rumbles from my chest. Heat coils low in my belly, tight and desperate. Her touch is gentle yet claiming, like she’s teasing her own power over me. I have half a mind to grab her wrist and pin it above her head, but there’s something about watching her take control of my pleasure that makes my cock throb harder.

My dick weeps from the tip as I try to hold back from exploding all over her face. Not because I don’t want to, but because now she’s on her knees, I want to make this last. I want her to work for my orgasm and want it as much as I do.

“Why Dan, you’re so wet.” Her lips quirk in the corner, her tongue laced with sarcasm. “Is all that for me?”

Another rumble from my chest, but this time it’s with a laugh. “You know it is, baby. Lap it up.”

Her tongue swirls around the head of my shaft, and I tilt my head back with a groan. “Eyes on me, Signor Inferno.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“If you mean having you at my mercy with blue balls, yes.” She licks the vein from the tip all the way down my length until she reaches my balls. Her eyelashes flutter as she licks back up, then kisses the tip.

I growl. “You’re fucking killing me here.”

Her eyes flash to mine. A slow, sexy smile curves her lips. “I haven’t even got started yet.” She pops a button on her dress, then another. Like some trick from a magician, she takes off her bra without taking her arms out of her dress.

“Kiss it again. Look at me while you do it this time.” I can’t take my eyes off of her as she swirls her tongue around my girth. My muscles twitch, causing my dick to nod approvingly as she presses another kiss on the tip, then wraps her lips around it, French kissing the head as if my dick is a tongue and she’s duelling for dominance.

“Suck it.” A growl tears from my chest, raw and impatient. She can have all the dominance she wants while giving me head. She can own me in this moment—because her mouth is fucking perfection. But I own her. She’s mine to cherish, mine to protect, and mine to worship. And when she sucks…

“Fuck,” I say, pulling in air through my teeth as my hands grip the edge of the worktop. The way she works her mouth, she’s like a fucking goddess who knows how to turn me inside out, making me hers as much as she is mine. “Finally, you’re putting that mouth of yours to good use.”

She flicks her eyes to mine. “Careful Dan, this mouth has teeth.” With a sinister curve of her lips, she hollows her cheeks and takes me deeper, swallowing around me. Each inch she takes a personal challenge in her eyes. Then she pulls back, scraping her teeth along my shaft, making my legs quiver.

“Your mouth is incredible.”

Her eyes water as she swallows again. She moans around me as if enjoying it just as much as I am, but I fear another moan like that will have me spilling down her throat and I want my cum inside her pussy.

“Come here. I need to kiss you.” I’ll never stop kissing her. Fucking her without kissing was torture and now she’s given in to the inevitable, I’m making up for lost time.

She rises from her knees with my help as I hook my arms under hers, her dress unbuttoned at the front, exposing her naked body underneath.

I crash my lips to hers, my fingers digging into every soft curve of her body, imprinting myself on her skin. My hands pull at her knickers. Once past her thick thighs, they drop to the floor and I squeeze her fleshy cheeks before lifting her up, but this time I pin her against the wall, taking her breath away.

“I think I like this side to you.” Her fingers run through my hair as I push my dick through her tight walls.

“Good. Because I might be controlled with everyone else, but where you’re concerned, there’s no taming me.” I grind my hips, my dick filling her up to the hilt.

Her eyelids flutter closed at the sensation. “I thought you hated me.”

“I do. I hate how you drive me crazy.” I tug at her lips with my teeth. “Your scent, this smart mouth.” My hands squeeze her arse cheeks. “And let’s not talk about how you kept our son away from me all these years.” I devour her, licking every corner of her mouth in a frenzy to show her how crazed she makes me.

She moans as I thrust into her, her cunt slick and dripping with arousal. Her nails bite into my shoulders. “I hate you, too.”

“You love my dick, though.” I power into her, her tits bouncing with every thrust.

“Yes. Don’t stop.” She kisses my lips, wrapping her tongue around mine as if tangling us together and sealing our fate. She comes up for air, her panting breaths warm on my face. “I hate how you’re the only person to make me feel good.” Her palms cup my cheeks as she presses her lips to mine again. “I hate how my body betrays me whenever you’re around.”

I pound my cock inside of her, my balls tightening as the heat of an inferno rages low in my belly. “I hate how you’ve melted the ice around my heart. How you make me feel things I haven’t felt for a long time and how you make me sick with worry when I’m not with you.”

We lock eyes, hers full of warmth and devotion as she holds my face in her palms. My chest aches with a brutal twist of desire and something far more dangerous—hope. I don’t want to feel it, but with her wrapped around me, it’s impossible not to.

Gazing into her eyes while buried deep inside her is too much. Too raw. Too beautiful. Too painful. And I can’t hold back any longer. I let go of it all and release every pent-up emotion into her with a final thrust and a guttural groan from deep in my throat.

She takes it too, clamping down around me, her legs tightening around my waist, her moans matching mine as we climax together and I feel everything as I hold her in my arms, our chests pressed tight together, as if our hearts beat as one.

Our movements grind to a halt. I let go of her legs, letting her stand. Our foreheads touch as we catch our breath.

“Are you going to take this dress off, or is this your new dressing gown?” I tug at the sleeve, but she pulls it back over her shoulder, covering the scar there.

“You don’t have to be worried about me seeing your body. There’s nothing about you that would make me want you any less. You’re mine. Every inch of you is mine.”

“I’m not worried. I just can’t sleep naked, that’s all.” She smiles and looks down. “Every inch of you is shrinking as we speak.”

My chest shakes with a laugh. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready to go again.”

She nuzzles into me and we just hold each other, her arms clinging to me as if she’s afraid to let go. It’s not just the aftermath of sex. It’s something deeper, fragile and rare, like if she lets go now, we’ll both shatter into pieces. And maybe we will.

She kisses my chest. “You know what I hate the most?”

I swipe the hair back from her face. “What?”

“I hate that we’ve lost so much time together.”

A heavy sigh leaves my lips as I pull her back to my chest, cradling her head. “That just means that we can appreciate the time we have now.” I kiss the top of her head, her dark hair that I love coming through. “And we make every second count.”

My mind wanders. A million scenarios flash through my head of all the different ways I can remove Magnus from our lives. But with my men and Riccardo working on other matters with Matteo, I’ll have to either deal with him myself or wait it out.

Trouble is, he’s back in the UK and time is the one thing I don’t have.

30

ROSE

Sir-Pounce-A-Lot jumps on the bed with a thump as if catapulted from the other side of the room.

I roll over, tugging the duvet with me, last night’s dress open and tangled around my thigh. Inhaling the pillow, the scent of D’Angelo fills my lungs. But he’s nowhere to be seen.

Light shines through the slats of the blind. Sir P paws at my bedding.

I stroke his head, and he rises, pushing against my hand. “You hungry?” As I open the bedroom door, the sizzle of cooking and the aroma of bacon travels up the stairs. My stomach grumbles, but my body tingles at thoughts of last night, and as I pad down the hall, my heart thrums at the sight.

My kitchen has never looked so good, but it’s not the food I’m salivating over.

D’Angelo shirtless in nothing but black boxer shorts is enough to make my mouth water.

I lean against the doorframe as he shakes his hips to whatever music he’s listening to through his ear pods. I fasten the last button on my dress, fiddling with it as I bite my lip, watching this man in my kitchen. My stomach flips. But my brother’s words ringing loud in my head douse out the heat in my body. What would he want with a girl like you? Are you completely stupid? It's obvious he was using you. I push the thoughts away. I need to believe Dan’s intentions are real. Because if they aren’t, after last night, I don’t know how I’ll survive him leaving again.

I want to know what sort of music he likes. I want to know everything about him. He told me all this before, but I’m not sure what was real and what was fabricated. We’re both different people now. I know I’ve changed.

Maybe this can work after all. I’d certainly like to see him in my kitchen more often. And my bed. And… everywhere.

He cracks an egg with one hand and drops the contents into the frying pan next to the bacon, then does it again before spinning around to drop the shells in the bin.

He pulls a pod from his ear as he widens his grin. “Hey, you’re up.” His lips press against my cheek. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”

“Sounds good. Shall I just go and wait?” I point to the stairs, my smile almost reaching my ears.

“Yeah. Make sure you’re naked, too.”

I roll my eyes, but climb the stairs, my stomach still simmering after last night. Not wanting to pop this bubble, I decide not to mention the ID again. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. Or maybe he won’t, but that’s a problem for another day.

I jump back into bed, fluffing the pillows behind me, grinning to myself as if high on laughing gas. Sir-Pounce-A-Lot settles beside me, curling up like he owns the place. His purr vibrates against my hip as I scratch behind his ear.

“Lazy boy,” I murmur to the cat, though I could say the same for myself, sinking into the warm bedding.

Dan strides in, balancing a tray in one hand like a naked waiter missing his bowtie. Eggs, bacon, toast, a steaming mug of tea. A single pink rose, thorns stripped, rests beside the cutlery and a small bowl of strawberries. He sets the tray across my lap, then drops a kiss onto my lips, lingering just long enough to make my pulse skip.

“Breakfast, as requested,” he announces, his grin flashing wickedly. “Shame you’re not naked like I asked. Toast wasn’t the only thing I wanted to eat this morning.”

“Use your imagination…for now.” I raise a brow while buttering a piece of toast.

“Oh, I’ve got imagination to spare, fiore mio.”

I pluck a strawberry from the bowl and hold it out to him. “Want one?”

Dan scrunches his nose playfully. “Not really a fan.”

I blink. “You chew strawberry gum all the time.”

His grin softens. “Because it reminds me of you. My strawberry gelato girl. The hopeless romantic who turned my whole damn world upside down.”

Warmth fills my chest. “I do things that remind me of you too.”

He caresses my lip with his thumb. “Like setting your house alarm to the date we first met?”

I nod. “I also moved up north to feel closer to you.” Heat flares in my cheeks, but I pop the strawberry into my mouth, grinning around it like an idiot as I lift my buttered toast.

“All this time you’ve been hiding in plain sight.” He leans over, stealing a bite of my toast, his teeth grazing my fingers. His gaze lingers on me, warm and hungry in a way that has nothing to do with the food.

I pretend to scowl. “Oi, that’s mine.”

“Correction,” he replies smoothly, kissing my cheek again, trailing it towards my jaw, “you’re mine. Therefore, so is your toast.”

“You’re a caveman.”

“Maybe. But this caveman makes a mean breakfast.” He plucks a piece of bacon from the plate, popping it into his mouth. His eyes crinkle with amusement.

Sir-Pounce-A-Lot interrupts, batting at the rose petals on the tray with a lazy paw.

“Did you run out to buy me flowers this morning?”

Dan chuckles, reaching over to stroke the cat’s fur. “I snuck over to Mrs. Aranda’s garden and plucked it from her bush.”

“She’s very protective of her roses,” I say, popping a forkful of egg into my mouth.

Dan hums, dragging his fingers slowly down my bare thigh where the dress has ridden up under the tray. “So am I.”

My breath catches slightly, but I keep my cool, lifting my chin. “Careful, D’Angelo. I might get used to this and you being in my bed.”

“Good,” he murmurs, leaning in to steal a kiss. “Because I’ve got no intention of leaving it.”

Our lips meet, slow and soft at first, then deeper, until the tea is forgotten, the breakfast cooling between us, and all I can think about is the way his mouth feels against mine.

Dan pulls the tray off my lap and sets it on the bedside table, ignoring the slight protest from Sir-Pounce-A-Lot, who plays with a stray crust. Dan stretches out beside me, warm and lazy, as if he’s got all the time in the world.

“Right,” he says, linking his fingers behind his head, his biceps flexing in a way that is completely unnecessary and utterly distracting. “We’ve had breakfast in bed. I’ve cooked for you, given you multiple orgasms…” He shoots me a wicked grin. “I’m basically husband material.”

I scoff, but my lips twitch at the corners. “You’re not doing bad. A little full of yourself.”

He rolls onto his side, propping himself on one elbow to look at me properly. “Not full of myself. Just full of plans.”

I arch a brow, pretending not to melt at the way his gaze drags slowly over me, soft and full of things he’s not quite saying yet. “What plans?”

He sighs, brushing a knuckle along my cheek. “Today’s plan is to keep you in bed as long as possible. The next plan is to take you out on a date. I have the perfect place the next time we’re in Rome.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “But first…”

His hand trails down, fingers brushing along my thigh beneath the tangled hem of my dress, sending a thrill up my spine.

“First?” I prompt, my voice a little breathier than intended.

“First,” he murmurs against my skin, “I find the man who put that doubt in your head.” His tone dips. “The one who made you think you’re not enough. I’m guessing he’s the reason you don’t like to be naked with me, and I can’t have that. I’ll make sure he never so much as looks in your direction again.”

Emotion catches in my chest, tightening my throat for a moment. But before I can speak, Dan softens the mood again, like he senses my heart stumbling over itself.

“But for now,” he adds with a teasing smile, “I’m going to make you admit you love my co⁠—”

I press my finger to his lips. “I already told you last night I love your cock. How many times does your ego need to hear it?”

“I was going to say cooking.” He bursts out laughing. “But it’s always good to know you love that as well.” He rolls around on the bed, his nose scrunching with a hearty laugh.

“That toast was a little burnt, if I’m being honest.” I laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’ve got other talents.”

His eyes darken with heat, but there’s a softness there too. “I plan to remind you of them. Frequently.”

Sir-Pounce-A-Lot leaps onto Dan’s chest, landing with a soft thud and a meow that says get a room.

Dan barks a laugh, ruffling the cat’s fur. “Jealous?”

“He’s just not used to sharing the bed,” I say, scratching behind Sir P’s ear.

“Well, he’d better get used to it,” Dan replies, his gaze steady on mine. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Something shifts between us. A shared understanding. A promise not made out loud, but felt all the same.

Maybe this can work after all.

“I have to go out shortly. I may not be back until tomorrow.”

I sip my coffee with a smile as if my face is now permanently stuck this way after spending the last few days in a bubble with D’Angelo. I don’t want it to pop, but he’s getting ready to go to work. Despite my curiosity, I no longer ask about his profession. “Look at us. We almost sound like a normal couple.”

He leans over the kitchen counter and kisses my lips. “We are a normal couple.” He lifts the shirt I've just ironed for him from the back of the chair and slides his arms through the crisp white cotton. There’s something stupidly intimate about watching him do such a normal thing. Like we’ve skipped years ahead, to mornings like this that belong to us.

“Shane’s gonna come and watch the house.”

My brow furrows. “Who’s Shane?”

“My mate. Lilly’s husband. He’s a sergeant in the police.” He pulls a tie through his collar. “I don’t want you to worry while I’m gone, that’s all.”

My grip tightens around my mug. “I wasn’t worried, but I am now.”

“Don’t be worried. It’s more for my benefit.” He lifts my chin, his touch reassuring. “I can’t think straight if I don’t know you’re safe.”

My chest warms at his words. I nod, understanding. If it wasn’t for the high security at my son’s school, I’d be a wreck. But nobody’s ever worried about me like this before. I’m usually the one worrying for everyone else. Being strong for everyone else. It's exhausting. I like the way he takes some of that weight off my shoulders.

“I’ll text you and check in, but I’ll be back tomorrow at the latest and we can pick Angelos up from school.” He rolls his lips between his teeth. “I need you to tell our son the truth.”

I gulp. The smile disappears from my face as a wave of emotions rise in my chest with guilt in the lead, followed by dread. “I know. I will. Just…”

“Just what?” The space between his brows wrinkles.

“I will tell him everything. Just give it time. He needs some time to get to know you and get used to you. If I just spring this on him now, he could resent you.”

“Is it me you’re worried he’ll resent or you for keeping the truth from him?”

Ugh. I hate it when he’s right.

“Fine, but I'm not sleeping on the couch again when he’s here.” His grey-blue eyes darken. “You tell him we’re together. We’ll tell him everything else when the time is right. We’ll figure this out.”

31

DAN

Itap my fingers against the dash while I wait for Rose to collect Angelos from school. Last night was a waste of time with a false lead on Magnus’s whereabouts. He’s not responding to my messages and I’m agitated. Shane’s put a call out for him at the station, but it does nothing to settle my nerves. I won’t rest till I know he’s been dealt with and is no longer a loose end.

Rose and Angelos walk out of the red brick building, and a weight lifts from my shoulders. A smile curves my lips until I read the scowl on his face as he shrugs away from Rose and slumps towards the car.

He yanks open the back door and throws his rucksack onto the seat, then follows with a huff.

I look in the rear view mirror as he folds his arms over his chest. “Everything okay, mate?”

He ignores me, his brow creasing into a scowl.

Rose drops into the passenger seat with a sigh, her forehead creasing, but hers has all the telltale signs of worry.

“You all right?” I place my hand on her knee over her jeans.

She gives me a fake smile as if putting on a brave face. “Let’s just go home.”

I shift the car into gear and drive out of the school gates, the drive home long and silent with nothing but my thoughts.

Too many lies, too many secrets, and the sooner everything is out in the open with Angelos, the better. I know he resents me. He thinks I’m not his dad.

It was hard for Dom and me to accept any woman my dad brought home after Mum died. The moody little bastard reminds me so much of my little brother…

Dom was always storming around with a chip on his shoulder and a smart-ass comment on his tongue.

I rest my head back against the seat, the pounding in my skull giving way to his voice. Sharp. Goading. Like I’m not just remembering, but reliving it.

I drive on autopilot while the rest of me gets dragged back almost fourteen years. Back when I still believed I could keep things separate. Mission and heart. Her and me.

And just like that, I’m in Rome again. Jaw clenched. Heart torn in two…

“I need more time.” I pace the length of the shitty little apartment Dom and I have been renting in Rome. From the corner of my eye, a cockroach scurries across the tiled floor.

Dom slams his boot down with a crunch, grinding the heel as if he’s stamping on an enemy. “These fuckers are everywhere. Just like the Contis, they’ll infiltrate everything if we let them.”

“I’m not saying abort the mission.” Frustration coils tight in my chest, trying to make my brother see reason. “I just want more time before we go for the main target.”

Dom’s eyes narrow, sharp as blades. “She’s got to you, hasn’t she?”

“Who?” I lift my gaze, feigning ignorance, but it’s useless. He sees straight through me. The Conti girl has more than got to me—she’s carved her way under my skin and set up camp in my heart.

“You know damn well who,” Dom shoots back, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Just admit it, brother. You’ve fallen for the mission.”

“She was never part of the mission,” I snap, my tone too defensive. “It’s strategy. I thought it’d be easier to get into the house through a back door than to go in guns blazing or worse—a public shooting. My plan is solid. It’s working. So stop trying to rush it.”

Dom gives a lazy shrug, like he’s already bored with this conversation. “Should’ve let me handle the girl. Bet I’d have got the job done twice as fast.”

I step in closer, my jaw tight. “It’s delicate. She’s not like other girls.”

“Oh yeah? What makes her so special?” He leans forward, intrigued, and rests his elbows on the table.

“She’s a virgin.”

Dom barks a laugh. No shame. “Of course she is. No fucker’s stupid enough to touch her…” His smile sharpens into a deadly stare. “Except you, you dumb bastard.”

My fists clench. “What the fuck are you trying to say? If you’re talking about her weight, I’ll bust your fucking nose.”

Dom rolls his eyes, snorting. “Fuck me, you really have got it bad.” He shakes his head, the smirk lingering. “You know me better than that. I meant because she’s a Conti.”

Before I can fire back, he grabs a flyer off the counter and tosses it at me. “Anyway, I can hack the security system, kill the cameras. We don’t need your back-door plan.” He nods towards the flyer. “Or we get him here.”

I lift the flyer.

“He’s at this event tomorrow night. So-called charity gala for battered women.” Dom huffs, bitter amusement curling his lip. “Call it poetic justice.”

My gut twists. The so-called charity is a front for laundering blood money and trafficking vulnerable women. Too many have disappeared under his name.

“This is personal.” My voice drops low and lethal. “I want to send a message. The Contis need to know we don’t outsource our kills. I want to look him in the eyes before I put a bullet between them. I want him to know it’s us—me—who’s been picking off his men one by one. I’m not taking him out from a distance at some glitzy event. He deserves to feel it.”

Dom studies me, head tilted. “So, where does that leave the girl?”

“Nobody touches the girl.”

Dom’s all too knowing grin spreads across his face. “So you do like her.”

“Drop it,” I bite out.

He leans in, prodding the bruise just to watch me flinch. “What’s the problem, huh? You scared she’s gonna look at you like you’re the villain you are when she finds out you killed her dear old daddy? Is that what you’re worried about?”

“She hates her father. That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is it?” He raises a brow, goading. “You want more time to get into her knickers? Break her virgin pussy in, nice and slow?”

The table flips before I register my fury, his glass toppling as I grab his shirt in my fists and shove him back into the chair. The flyer flutters to the floor between us like a white flag—but I’m not in the mood to back down. “Don’t you ever talk about her like that.”

Dom raises his hands in mock surrender, a smirk still tugging at his lips. “Easy, brother. Easy.” His gaze flicks to my grip on his shirt, then back to my eyes. “So you do like her, then?”

I glare at him, my jaw tight as I loosen my fists and let him go. He knows. The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s enjoying every second. “Just give me one more week,” I grind out. “We’ve got time before we’re back on tour.”

Dom pushes out of the chair, standing tall until we’re nose to nose. “Fine,” he concedes, though his grin says he’s not done enjoying this. “One more week.” He slaps my shoulder as he passes. “You’d better make your move, brother. Before your sweet little Conti flower gets plucked by someone else.”

Dom’s words echo in my head even now, chasing me like ghosts I can’t outrun.

Back at Rose’s home, I pull the car into the driveway, my jaw tight, my thoughts still tangled in the past.

The kid’s not said a word on the drive home, just sat there with his headphones on and a scowl carved into his face like it’s permanent.

Rose unclips her seatbelt, her hand brushing over my biceps in silent apology. She offers me a tight, worried smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

I follow them inside, tossing the car keys onto the console table with a clatter.

Angelos kicks off his shoes, hard, like they’ve personally offended him, and mutters under his breath, “Why is he staying here again?”

“Angelos, that’s enough,” Rose says, and it’s the first time I’ve heard her sharp with him.

His eyes narrow, his lips pressed to a thin, hard line. “You’re cheating on Dad.”

The word Dad hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest. I freeze in the kitchen doorway at the mention of Magnus.

Rose drops her purse on the counter, her expression tight. “Me and your… me and Magnus aren’t together.”

“Yeah, because of him.” Angelos flashes me a lethal glance, his entire attitude a complete contrast to the kid I saw on his birthday. What the hell happened? Is this what turning thirteen does to them?

My jaw ticks, back teeth grinding, but I force myself to let Rose handle it. She’s more than capable.

“It’s nothing to do with Dan.” Rose rubs at her temple, her shoulders slumping as if defeated by the weight of it all. Torn between me and her son.

“If Dad were here, you wouldn’t be sleeping around.”

“Watch your tone, mate.”

His eyes flash with defiance. “Don’t call me mate.”

I step farther into the room, keeping my voice firm but even, though my pulse thunders in my ears. “Then show your mother some respect.”

“Why should I?” he snaps, chin jutting forward. “He—” He flicks a glare at Rose. “He’s not my dad.”

Silence slams down, thick and suffocating, like a storm cloud about to burst.

My fists curl at my sides, heat flooding my chest. The truth is right there, burning on the tip of my tongue. I am your father. I want to shout it, roar it at him until the truth finally breaks through his stubborn skull.

But Rose was right.

You don’t drop a truth bomb like that in the middle of a screaming match. Not if you want it to land the right way.

Rose draws a steadying breath and looks him dead in the eye. “Don’t you dare speak to Dan like that.”

Angelos scoffs. “So you’re just gonna let your boyfriend talk to me like I’m shit? You’re taking his side?”

“That’s enough,” I bark, my voice booming across the kitchen, my patience snapping.

His cheeks flush with angry heat. “No, it’s not enough! You come in here like you own the place, like you own us. Well, you don’t!” His voice cracks with emotion, matching my own rage and heartbreak colliding in my chest.

He shoves past Rose, his shoulder bumping hers, and storms towards the stairs. “I hate you!” he yells over his shoulder, before thundering up the steps and slamming his bedroom door hard enough to shake the frame.

The words hit her like a blade, her shoulders curling inward as if to shield herself from the impact. Rose rubs her temples, eyes closing for a moment as if she’s holding back tears.

I let out a slow breath, unclenching my fists, my whole body thrumming with frustration and the ache of unsaid words.

“I wanted to tell him,” I say quietly, my voice rough. “Right there and then. But you were right.” I glance towards the ceiling, as if I can still feel the echo of his footsteps. “He’s not ready.”

Her shoulders sag. “Neither am I. I’m scared, Dan. I’m scared I’m going to lose him.”

“Hey.” I corner the counter and wrap her in my arms. “Let him cool off. I’ll try to talk to him later.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Her voice wavers. “We had such a great time on Monday for his birthday. He was so happy. And now…” Her words dissolve into silence, but a chill creeps down my spine.

It’s like he’s been poisoned against us.

Against me.

And I’ve no idea how to cure it.

Maybe Dom was right all those years ago.

Only it’s our son that sees me as the villain.

32

ROSE

Angelos wipes his red eyes and sniffles as I enter his room. He wouldn’t come down for food, so I let him eat chips and pizza in his room while he cooled off. He clutches an old stuffed toy, a resemblance of the dog we had when he was a child. I couldn’t take the dog with us when I fled and Angelos has never forgiven me.

I sit on the edge of the bed, Sir-Pounce-A-Lot creeps through the gap in the door and jumps up, pawing at Angelos’ chest as if he senses his anguish as well.

“Want to talk about it yet?” I pat his arms as he lies on his side, curled into a ball. “I hate it when we fight. I love you.” I close my eyes for a brief moment. It’s just been me and him all this time. He’s never had to compete with anyone for my affection before. Not even Magnus.

“I’m sorry, okay.” He lets go of the stuffed toy and lets it fall to the ground as he sits up in the bed and takes the drink of milk I’ve brought him. After taking a big gulp, he wipes the milk from his top lip. “I just don’t understand why Dad can’t move back in with us when he’s out of prison.”

“Because there are things that you’re too young to understand. But when you’re old enough, I’ll tell you. Magnus and I don’t love each other.”

He huffs. “So you love Dan now?”

I twist my hands together. I haven’t declared my love for Dan to anyone, not even him, but I can’t deny it any longer. “I enjoy having him around. Will you give him a chance? For me?”

Angelos shuffles back down the bed and hands me the milk. “I don’t have to like him.”

“No, but while he’s here, you have to respect him.” I rise from the bed, not wanting to get into another argument. I pull his duvet over him and tuck it around his neck, placing a kiss against his cheek. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. Night.” I flick his light out.

“Night Mum.”

“Love you,” I whisper before I pad back into my room.

Dan looks up from his phone with a wrinkle in his brow. “How is he?”

“He apologised, but I still don’t understand what’s got into him.”

“Maybe he’s realised I’m a permanent fixture.” Dan places the phone on the bedside table with a sigh.

“Everything all right with you?” I take the few steps to the bed where he’s sat and run my fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, just waiting for an important text or a phone call about a job.” His hands slide up the back of my legs and I wish I didn’t have jeans on, so I could feel his rough palms against my skin.

I don’t pry. I know he won’t tell me any more, so there’s no point.

He rises from the bed and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

I nod and change into my pyjamas, then sit at my dressing table and take off my makeup.

Dan’s phone rings on the bedside table, making me jump.

Steam billows from the en suite bathroom and I lift the handset to take it to him in case it’s important. His phone vibrates in my hand, and the name Magnus dances across the screen.

My body freezes on the spot, my feet glued to the carpet, unable to move. The ringing pierces my ears, even though the phone’s gone silent. My hand still shakes as if the phone’s still vibrating.

There’s more than one person called Magnus. My brain tries to rationalise, but the seed of doubt is rooted so far into my heart, telling me not to trust this man.

He used me before. He could do it again.

A shiver wracks my bones, my heart racing as my temple throbs with a sharp stabbing pain in my head. I place his phone back on the night stand and clutch my belly, nausea taking hold as my stomach ties itself into knots.

I could just ask him who Magnus is. But he wouldn’t even tell me the truth about what he showed the cop the other day. This man is a master of lies. He’s been perfecting his game face since I was a teenager.

A cold sweat coats my skin. I sit on the bed staring at the phone. My body trembling. I take in deep breaths and regulate my breathing. He can’t hurt me anymore. Even if he finds me, he can’t hurt me anymore.

“You all right?”

I lift my head.

Dan leans against the bathroom doorjamb, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his hair onto his chest, dampening the inked feathers there.

Magnus might not be able to hurt me anymore, but there’s something else that terrifies me. Something that deep down I’ve known all along. I’ve let my guard down again with Dan and he’s betrayed me.

Again.

“You look pale.” Dan walks over from the doorframe and reaches out a hand to my face.

I flinch, sickness rising in my throat. “I’m gonna be sick.” Barging past him, I rush to the bathroom and wretch into the toilet. The contents of my evening meal expels out of me as I wretch again.

Dan gathers my hair in his palms. “Shit. Do you think it was the pizza?”

I curse myself. I haven’t been like this in a long time. Since Magnus’s incarceration, I’ve had nothing to fear. But it’s not Magnus I’m afraid of. I’m scared that I’ve given away my heart to a man who doesn’t deserve it. I’m scared I’ve put my son in danger by admitting all our secrets, and I’m terrified that if the phone call is completely innocent, what if I’ll never be able to fully trust Dan after what he did? I thought I could. I thought I could move on, but it’s clear. One little thing and my mind goes to the betrayal.

I can’t live with someone I don’t trust.

He hands me a glass of water. “You feel better now you got that up?”

I nod as I take a drink with my shaky hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Dodgy fucking pizza, that’s what’s wrong.” He helps me to my feet. “Did Angelos have any of your ham and pineapple?”

“No. Just me.” I step out of the bathroom, out of his arms, and breathe a little easier. “I just want to go to sleep.”

“I’ll check on Angelos.” Dan pulls on a pair of grey joggers and leaves the room.

I rush back into the bathroom and open the mirrored cabinet. Tablets clatter against the sink as my trembling hand knocks them off the shelf in my search for a bottle of old sleeping pills. I need to buy some time.

“What was that noise?” Dan lets out a sigh of relief as he enters the bathroom. I thought you’d collapsed.”

“I was looking for my peppermint capsules. Thought they’d settle my stomach.”

Dan’s brow furrows. “Is this anything to do with your condition? Do you need a drink of juice or anything?”

I nod. “Would you get me a drink?”

He disappears out of the room and I pop two capsules from the bottle of sleeping pills, then quickly empty them into the half drunk glass of water on his side of the bed.

He returns to the room and hands me a glass of juice.

My shaky hands take it from him and I bring it to my lips to drink.

“Angelos is fine. Fast asleep.” The bed dips as D’Angelo climbs into the bed, his warm palm slipping around my waist as he nuzzles behind me. “Can I get you anything else?”

I shake my head. “I just need sleep.”

“If you feel ill again in the night, wake me.” He presses a kiss to the side of my face, then turns, drinking his water before turning out the lamp.

Guilt claws at my throat, almost suffocating me as I lie on my back, staring into the darkness, unable to sleep.

I need to know once and for all who he is. I can’t be having an episode every time someone named Magnus calls, but I don’t trust Dan enough to just ask him.

Unable to sleep, I lift his hand from my stomach and slip out from under the duvet. Creeping around the bed, I reach his side and the phone on the bedside table. I chew on my bottom lip, knowing what I’m about to do is wrong. I’ve never once invaded a person’s privacy, but I need to put my mind at ease if I’m to get any sleep tonight. I’ve never drugged anyone either. I guess there’s a first time for every thing.

Holding my breath, I slide the phone under the duvet and use Dan’s thumb to unlock his screen.

His gentle snore into the pillow keeps my heart rate steady as I sneak into the bathroom, scrolling through his messages.

Let me know when you’re back in the UK

Just checking in. Haven’t heard from you.

Get in touch. I have some information about your wife.

I’m in Manchester. Meet tomorrow outside the cathedral and you can tell me what you have on my wife and the kid.

My hand shakes, tears blur my vision, making it difficult to read the rest of the messages. Details about me and my son. My life laid out in black and white, cold and clinical, as if I’m nothing more than a report.

A target.

A mission.

I swallow the thick air, my chest tightening as pictures of a young Angelos fill the screen. My boy. Bile claws up my throat. They’re photos I recognise. Family photographs I took, the last one of him and Magnus before he went to prison. He was never a good father, but he never laid a hand on him and I’m grateful for that, at least. Angelos always idolised him, like a little puppy dog, just following him around for the tiniest scrap of affection, never understanding his dad would always leave him hungry for more.

The edges of my vision blur with panic, the screen trembling in my grasp. This isn’t a suspicion anymore. This is proof. Proof that the man sleeping soundly in my bed has been tracking me. Using me. Again.

My throat closes up, making it difficult to breathe.

I glance back at Dan asleep on the bed, peaceful in his lies. His betrayal squeezes my heart. My lungs feel starved for air, like I’m drowning on dry land.

Maybe he can explain, my heart whispers, clinging to hope like a fool. Just like I did all those years ago. But my head screams louder. I won’t be that silly girl again.

I stood up for him tonight. I let him into my home, my bed, my life. And he’s been lying to me, every step of the way.

I defended him before, thirteen and a half years ago. I kept thinking there was a mistake, that he hadn’t just slept with me to get to my father, to pull the trigger, then disappear like I never mattered.

My brother’s words ring loud and clear, like an alarm bell buzzing in my head. Are you completely stupid? Look at you, Rose. Why would a man like him date a girl like you?

I don’t know what’s real anymore. He never came back for me, never even answered my letters. And he’s already confirmed everything—so why I gave him the benefit of the doubt this time around, I’ll never know.

A broken sob catches in my throat, but I smother it. I can’t wake him. I can’t let him see me fall apart. Not now. Not when I know the truth. The man I trusted with my heart, and my son, is the very same man who could destroy us.

I swallow down the panic clawing at my throat and slip the phone back onto the bedside table, my hands trembling.

I can't stay here. Not another second.

Quiet as a shadow, I book an Uber, and gather what I need. Angelos’ bag by the door, my purse, the spare house keys. I nudge Angelos awake, my heart twisting at the confusion in his sleep-heavy eyes.

"Come on, sweetheart," I whisper. "We have to go."

His eyes flutter open, fear creeping in. But he doesn't ask questions. He knows this drill.

This isn’t our first escape. We fled in the middle of the night before, when he was five—after Magnus’s incarceration, after I realised I was still a prisoner in that house. Not even all that wealth and luxury could keep me there, not with his men eyeing me every five minutes as if I were just another possession.

My son wasn’t going to be raised by gangsters.

Minutes later, we slip out into the night, the door softly closing behind us like the final seal on my heart.

Sir-Pounce-A-Lot is nowhere to be seen, but I know Mrs. Aranda will take care of him.

“Where are we going?” Angelos asks, rubbing his eyes in the back of the taxi.

“Helena’s.” My voice cracks, my throat dry as dust. “Then I’ll think about what to do next.” The sun paints the horizon in a red hue like a warning beacon. A magpie flies in front of the car, and I remind myself it’s not a bad omen, just a bird foraging for food. Not a sign. Not a sign.

“Is this because of Dad?” He stares out the window, the veil of darkness lifting from the trees in the distance.

“Why would it be about Dad?”

“Because he said you might try to run from him.”

My head whips to the side, cold dread seeps through my ribs. “When did he say that?”

“He came to see me. Why didn’t you tell me he was out of prison?”

The words slam into my chest like a brick. My breath catches, my pulse roaring in my ears. “When?”

“After my birthday.”

“What else did he say?”

“He said that Dan will try to poison you against him. That Dan’s trying to break our family up.”

My stomach drops, heavy and cold. My nails dig into my palm to stop my hands from trembling. Dan. Always Dan. My heart splinters again. “Is that why you were in a mood when we picked you up yesterday?” I rub the throb in my temple. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“He told me to keep it a secret.” Angelos’ voice falters. “I’m sorry, Mum.”

“Did you tell him where I live?”

His gaze drops to his lap. His whisper is barely audible over the hum of the taxi's engine. “I think so.”

I stare out the window, watching the estate disappear behind us, swallowed by the rising dawn.

Deep down, I know I won’t be coming back.

33

DAN

Asharp throb pounds behind my eyes as I stir, my mouth dry as dust, my limbs heavy with a fatigue I can’t explain.

The bedside clock blinks an unforgiving time at me, much later than I expected. Too late.

I scrub a hand down my face and reach instinctively for Rose, but my fingers brush cool sheets. “Rose?” My voice comes out rough, hoarse. I shove off the covers and stagger to my feet, my head swimming. Her scent lingers in the air, but it’s fading.

I check the en suite, then the hallway and make my way downstairs. “Angelos?”

Silence.

Heading back upstairs, I snatch my phone up from the bedside table and call her, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Fuck.

Panic claws at my ribs. She wouldn’t go out without telling me or leaving a note. She knows I worry too much. I sweep through the house, room by room, my heart slamming against my chest like a battering ram. No signs of a struggle. No notes. No voice.

My thumb hovers over Magnus’s number, but something catches my eye—open messages still on the screen.

The ones between me and Magnus.

My chest seizes.

No. No, no, no.

She saw them.

She read them.

A chill spiders down my spine as my gaze flicks to the en suite. The bathroom cabinet door hangs open, the edge of a bottle visible inside.

I step closer. Sleeping pills.

No. She wouldn’t.

Would she?

My mind reels. Rose, slipping two pills from the bottle. Crushing them into my drink. Quiet, calculated. Protecting herself, my clever girl is a warrior. I don’t know whether to be proud or fucking fuming.

But my heart. My stupid, hopeful heart refuses to believe it.

She wouldn’t drug me. Yet deep inside, another memory gnaws at me, the same memory that’s haunted me for the last thirteen and a half years.

The hospital bed. The sterile walls, the reek of antiseptic. I woke up from a coma, weak and disoriented, only to find her married. She never waited for me like she promised. Has she betrayed me again?

Sir-Pounce-A-Lot pokes a head through the cat flap on the back door, softening the rage for a second. She wouldn’t leave the cat.

Magnus.

My head pounds with all kinds of scenarios as I try her phone again. But one stands out. Was Magnus here? Has he taken her?

A raw growl builds in my throat as fury knots with fear. I feed the cat, shove my feet into my boots, snatch up my jacket, and storm out the door with nothing but rage boiling in my gut. I need answers. And I know exactly where to start.

The air outside is harsh, spitting drizzle against my skin, the grey clouds matching my thunderous mood. People move around me, hands laden with shopping bags, but my focus narrows to the man leaning casually against the stone wall of the cathedral.

Magnus sniggers like the bastard he is.

I charge towards him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, slamming him back against the wall. “Where is she?” I snarl, my voice deep and raw.

Magnus’s smile widens, taunting me. “Has she left you, D’Angelo? You poor thing.” He tuts, mock sympathy dripping from his tone. “How’s it feel, sleeping with my wife?”

I tighten my grip, rage choking my vision. “Tell me where she is, or I’ll break you in half.”

Onlookers pause, eyes widening, some lifting their phones. A siren wails somewhere in the distance, growing louder.

He laughs, loud and guttural, his manky teeth bared in full display, breath rank with stale smoke. “You’re the tracker, remember?” His laugh turns to a snarl. “At least that’s what I was paying you for.”

I shove him harder until the back of his skull clips the stone. "Wrong answer."

But he only sneers, fearless or reckless. I’m not sure which. Maybe both. "I wasn’t paying you to fuck her.” He spits. “I always found her like a sack of potatoes, if I’m honest. That and a squealing pig. But whatever turns you on.”

My vision whites out. Pure, blinding rage surges through my veins like fire. I see nothing but red. My fist coils, knuckles whitening, and before I can stop myself, I drive it into his gut, hard enough to fold him in half.

He chokes, a guttural sound ripping from his throat as he doubles over, spitting on the pavement.

I grab his collar and slam him against the wall again. My fist connects with his face—once, twice—bone against stone. Blood spatters the grey wall. He wheezes for air, sputtering. My own breath coming in ragged bursts. I don’t stop. Can’t stop.

Magnus bares his teeth in a red grin, blood smeared across them like paint, and clicks his tongue once, mockingly.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” I growl, my voice razor sharp. “Talk about her like that again and I’ll scatter your teeth across this fucking street, along with your intestines.”

But the stupid, arrogant bastard laughs through the pain, wheezing, his lip curling.

“Look at you,” he rasps, eyes glittering with sick delight. “You have a thing for pork?”

I tighten my grip, my knuckles pressing into his throat. Just a little more pressure. Just a little more, and I could finish this right here.

But the wail of sirens creeps closer, slicing through the haze of fury.

Not here. Not now. If the cops find me next to a dead man, no amount of flashing my ID will get me out of a cell. Not until they’ve cut through the red tape and democratic bullshit.

I release him with a shove, his head cracking back against the stone one last time for good measure. He sags against the wall, coughing, a string of saliva hanging from his lip as he wipes it with the back of his hand.

“You’re weak, D’Angelo.” Magnus spits, dragging in a breath. “That’s why she left you,” Magnus sneers, like he’s enjoying this far too much. “I told you she likes to play games.”

I slam him harder against the wall, my teeth clenched so tight my jaw aches. “Where. Is. She.”

He shrugs, a glint of malice in his eyes. “Maybe she ran home to her brother. You know what they say. Blood’s thicker than water.”

The sirens are close now. I can’t risk drawing more attention, not when I need to find her and my son.

With a guttural snarl, I release him and shove him away. He stumbles, then straightens his jacket with infuriating calm.

“See you around, D’Angelo.” He tosses the words over his shoulder like a threat. “Assuming you find her before I do.”

I watch him disappear into the crowd, fury pulsing in my veins. People ask if he’s all right, as if he’s the victim. The crowd parts as if I’m the monster and I’ll probably be all over social media by the end of the day. A slap on the wrist from the agency. I’m a shadow undercover. The angel of death. But today I lost control.

If he’s right, if she’s gone to her brother, then I know exactly where I need to go.

And God help anyone who stands in my way.

34

ROSE

Iwalk through the halls of my family home, the air cool this time of night, my body tired from the last twenty-four hours. “Angelos?”

“In here,” he shouts, the sound coming from my father’s old office.

I push the heavy door open and suck in a breath as Angelos holds a gun in his hand, my brother showing him how to use it. “Angelos, put that down.” My pulse hammers in my throat. This is exactly why I changed my name and left this world behind. I didn’t want him ever to know what it felt like to hold a gun in his hand.

“Relax, sorella. It’s not loaded.” He opens his palm, showing me the bullets.

I step into the room. “I don’t care. He shouldn’t be handling guns.”

Elio takes it from Angelos with a roll of his eyes and places it in a holster in the back of his trousers.

“You carry that thing around with you?”

His eyes flick to mine. “You can never be too careful. Maybe Papa would still be alive if he’d carried a gun at all times.”

I scratch at my neck, my skin prickling with uncertainty. “Come on Angelos. Come and say goodnight to Nonna.”

“Can we still go clay pigeon shooting, Uncle?” Angelos looks between me and Elio.

Elio waves a hand in my direction. “Up to your mamma, ragazzo.”

I narrow my eyes at him. I’m sick of being the bad mum all the time at having to say no. Our relationship is strained enough, with Magnus looming over us like a bad smell. “I’ll deal with you later,” I say as I close the door and follow Angelos down the hall.

He looks up at the ornate mouldings on the wall as if taking in the grandeur for the first time. The house still contains most of its original features. The last time he was here, he was too young to remember it.

We walk into Mamma’s room now she’s out of the hospital. I’ve been with her most of the evening while Angelos was with Elio. He needed the space with the tension high between us and him blaming me and Dan for uprooting him this time, and I still haven’t found the courage to tell him the truth.

“Night, Nonna.” Angelos kisses my mother on the cheek.

“Buonanotte ometto.” She lifts the oxygen mask back over nose.

I run my hand through Angelos’ thick brown hair. “I’ll come and tuck you in soon. Clean your teeth and get your pyjamas on. It’s really late.”

He runs out of the room with a spring in his step, as if he’s treating this as a holiday. It’s been a long time since we visited here, too many memories in this house to make it feel like home. A shiver shakes my limbs and I pull my cardigan over my chest. “I don’t know how you can live here after everything that happened. This place still gives me the creeps.”

Mamma pulls her mask down again. “This was my parents’ home before your father tainted it. I was born here and I’ll die here. No man or ghost is going to drive me out of my home.”

I give Mamma a smile. I admire her strength. If only her body matched her strong will. “Is there anything you need before I go to bed?”

“My book.” She points to the shelf behind me.

I run my fingers along the spines, a smile playing on my lips as I remember sneaking into the library as a child to read my mother’s romance collection. “Here you go.” I guess it’s why my mother chose this room as her new bedroom when she could no longer get upstairs. I lift out my old copy of Romeo and Juliet from the adjacent shelf. The pages are more tattered than I remember.

Her frail fingers slip around my arm. “I’m glad you’re here, la mia bella rosa.”

“Me too, Mamma.”

“Try not to worry about the Bianchi boy.”

“You still think there’s an explanation?”

“All I know is what I saw. The man cares about you. His father was a good man. And I see so much of his father in him.”

“I guess we’ll never know.” It’s time to move on with my life. I came here to get away from Dan, needing space to breathe and time to think clearly. I’m not afraid of Magnus. There’s nothing he can do to me that he hasn’t done already. Except take my son away, but I won’t let that happen. I’ll kill him myself before that ever happens.

I close the door gently as I step into the hallway, the light to Elio’s office still on. Peeking my head around the gap, I smile at Elio. “Thank you for entertaining him tonight. But can you keep the guns locked away from now on?”

Elio quirks his lips and shakes his head as if I’m being overdramatic. He’s nothing like our father, thank goodness. But he shares the same taste for vengeance. “He should learn how to handle a gun. I was much younger when I learnt how to protect myself.”

Maybe Elio’s right if it’s for his own protection. “Maybe you should teach me how to handle one.” I huff, but I’m not exactly joking. “Right. I’m going to bed. Just came to say night.”

“Do you have everything you need?” He looks up from his laptop, a warm but concerned expression on his face. “Il ragazzo, okay?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“You gonna tell me why you’re here?”

“Just wanted to spend some time with Mamma.”

He nods. “Doctor’s said she’s over the worst. You don’t need to worry anymore. The old girl might outlive us all.”

“Tough as old boots, that one.” My smile falters, knowing it’s just wishful thinking. Mamma may be over the pneumonia, but the COPD machine isn’t going away. “Night.”

“Night, sorella.” He goes back to his laptop, a frown settling on his face.

I close the door and pad up the large winding staircase, my fingers gliding along the ornate carved design of the wooden bannister that curves up the stairs. Moonlight shines through the large arched window on the staircase, light bouncing off the crystals on the chandelier that hangs as a focal point in the centre of the marble steps curving around it.

My brother’s head of security nods as I pass him on the stairs. “Goodnight, signora.”

“Night, Bruno.” My muscles relax, knowing the house is locked down. I walk into the guest room that Angelos has claimed. “Have you cleaned your teeth?”

“Yeah.” He climbs into bed with his Nintendo switch. “I left my charger at home.”

I ruffle his hair. “I’m sure we can get one tomorrow.” I pull the duvet over his chest in the large double bed. “Want me to stay in here with you?”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Mum.”

“Just because you’re thirteen does not mean you are an adult.”

“I’m a teenager.”

I lean over and kiss his forehead. “All right. I’m just across the hall if you need me, and Uncle Elio’s bedroom is next door.”

“Mum.”

“Yes?”

“Can Dad come and stay here with us now he’s out of prison?”

I swallow the acid rising in my throat. “We’ll talk about your dad tomorrow.” I take the Nintendo Switch from his hand. “Get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

He yawns and rolls over on the pillow. “Night, Mum.”

I lean down and press a kiss to his temple. “I love you.”

“Love you, Mum.”

I turn off the light and pad out of his room with the tattered book still in my hand, and I rub the ache in my shoulder and neck with the other. It really has been a long day. Entering my old bedroom, a breeze blows through the window, the thin curtain wafting on the wind like a ghost here to haunt me. My teeth chatter with a shiver and walk over with only the moonlight to guide me and pull the window closed.

With a tight chest, I take a moment to scan the grounds below. The old trellis that clung to the wall is now rotten, the drain pipe several feet away. Bruno waves a hand as he paces the lawn, smoking a cigarette. Not even Spiderman could penetrate these walls tonight.

I place the book on my nightstand, then shrug my cardigan from my shoulders and lay it over the back of my dressing table chair. Not much has changed in here. It’s still the same decor it was when I was eighteen. All my happy memories tainted by the massacre from the angel of death, a nickname for the silent killer who picked off my father’s men one by one in the run-up to his murder. I’d heard them talk about it. All the while, unbeknown to me, I was meeting him in the Villa Borghese, my father and brother too busy to even notice what I was up to. The irony isn’t missed on me.

I woke up to bloodstained sheets and went downstairs to bloodstained walls and a pool of blood in my father’s room. I shake the thoughts away. No amount of therapy can remove the image or the guilt that it was my fault.

There was no love lost with my father and I remember a sense of relief, knowing he couldn’t hurt my mother anymore, but Elio paid the price, having to step up and take on the family business.

Deep breaths. It’s a different time. I inhale for five and then exhale for five. “I have nothing to be afraid of,” I say out loud, reciting my daily affirmations that used to calm me down.

“Except me,” a familiar voice says in the shadows.

I lunge to the door, but cold hands wrap around my waist, his palm silencing my mouth as he whispers into my ear. “You left me, fiore mio.”

His body holds me hostage against the wood, his heart beating against my back at the same ferocious pace as mine. “There isn’t a place on earth you could go where I won’t find you.” With one hand over my mouth, his other hand grips my throat. “Do I need to remind you that you belong to me?”

I shake my head, my voice muffled behind his hand.

“I think I do. I think I need to show you.” He removes his hand from my mouth but holds my throat in a viselike grip.

Metal clinks as he tugs at his belt.

I claw his hand around my neck. I could shout, scream, bang against the door, but I don’t because my body wants him despite my mind screaming and my heart bleeding on the inside from where his betrayal slashed it to smithereens.

Instead of crying out, I pant heavily, waiting for him to turn me around and kiss me, but he holds me against the wood, tugging the fabric of my t-shirt.

“I want you stripped bare. No fucking dressing gown,” he growls in my ear as he tears the cotton at my back.

The sound of fabric tearing rips through me. “Please don’t.” I fight, my body thrashing against his, but I keep my voice quiet.

Don’t wake the baby.

Memories ripple and I can’t tell what’s real and what’s in the past.

More sounds of fabric shredding fill the room, along with my panting breaths as I struggle against him. “Not like this.”

“Yes. Like this, Rose. You’ll never leave me again. You want to change your identity and disappear? I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own damn name.”

The sound of the fabric tearing slices through the fog of desire, sharp as a whip.

And just like that, I’m not here anymore.

I’m back in London. Back in that prison, disguised as a home…

The bedroom spins, colour leeching from the walls until all I see is white. White bedding, splattered with red. My blood.

Magnus’s voice drips like acid into my ear. “Scream for me.” His weight bears down on me as he tears the cotton nightdress from my back. A burning sting slices through my skin. I grit my teeth and clench the duvet as more blood splatters against the white bedding. Another bedspread ruined, but that’s the least of my worries.

“Scream like a stuffed pig,” he says, but I won’t wake the baby. I won’t have my son grow up in a house where he sees his mother get beaten to a pulp like I did. That is not the life I want for my son, so I stay silent. Another laceration burns as his knife cuts deep. A whimper leaves my lips, but I refuse to cry.

In my mind’s eye, I clutch the bedframe, feel the jagged pain of the blade slicing my skin. My breath comes shallow, ragged. My heart slamming against my ribs like a caged animal.

No. No. It’s not him. Not now. Not real.

But my body doesn’t understand. My body only knows the sharp burn at my back, the metallic sting of old fear flooding my veins.

Don’t wake the baby. Don’t wake the baby.

The mantra echoes in my mind, a helpless loop. I bite down on my lip until I taste blood, the same as I did all those years ago.

Dan’s voice filters through the fog. “Rose?” His hands are still. His body heat surrounding me, but his touch is featherlight now. “Fiore mio, it’s me. It’s just me.”

But my mind won’t release me from the past.

His hand on my waist feels like a shackle. His breath against my ear feels like chains tightening.

“Rose—talk to me. Come back to me.” His voice cracks, full of fear I know he shows no one else.

But I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. All I can do is pray that Dan stops touching me so my mind can break free of this prison.

The sensation of the blade is too real, burning fresh over old scars. I see Magnus’s sneer, the gleam of his knife, the way he carved his possession into my flesh just for fun.

Another breath. Another sharp yank of the fabric.

I flinch, trembling uncontrollably.

“Rose!” Dan’s voice sharpens, panic tightening his words.

“Don’t wake the baby.” The old plea slips free, and my heart shatters all over again.

Maybe I should have woken Angelos all those years ago. Maybe I should have screamed. There’s no point now. There is no baby anymore.

Only ghosts.

35

DAN

She stops fighting me as if giving in to our fate, but her eyes glaze over, staring off as if she can see something beyond the door. Her voice is barely a whisper, fractured and broken. “Don’t wake the baby.”

My chest goes tight, my breath locking in my lungs as realisation dawns.

Her fists clench tight as she feels around, grappling with the wall, her fingertips dragging across the surface as though she’s feeling for something solid to anchor her.

“Rose, I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

I let the torn fabric fall to the floor, my hands trembling as I gather her against me, her body shaking violently in my arms. “Rose?” My voice cracks.

Her hand bangs against the light switch on the wall, bathing the room in harsh light.

My stomach twists at the sight. The scar on her shoulder glints silver in the glow. But that’s not the only one. No. My breath chokes in my throat as my gaze roams lower. Ragged, brutal scars hacked across her back like savage brushstrokes. Like someone carved their fury into her flesh and left her bleeding. I stumble back a step, as if the sheer horror of it physically knocks me off balance.

She slides down the wall, curling into herself on the floor and crawls to the corner of the room, her arms wrapping tight around her bare chest. Her fists stay clenched, white-knuckled, her whole body trembling as she rocks gently in place.

My warrior reduced to a fragile girl, haunted by a past that’s of my doing. I should have never left. Should have taken her with me away from all this. Should’ve married her the day I took her innocence and moved her to the wives’ quarters. So many should haves.

“Rose.” I drop to my knees, my hands trembling, scared to touch her. I’m helpless, watching the fierce woman I love cower in the corner like a beaten dog. “What the fuck did he do to you?”

A knot of rage burns my insides to ash. Acid coats my tongue. Every muscle in my body screams for vengeance. “This was no accident, Rose.” My voice is low, savage, barely human. I want to tear him limb from limb. I want to end him for every mark, every scar, every scream he stole from her throat.

My gaze locks on her, her glassy, unfocused stare. She’s not here. She’s gone, trapped in some living hell in her mind.

“Rose.” I say again, forcing the crack out of my voice, gazing into her glassy eyes, void of all emotion.

“Don’t wake the baby,” she whispers again.

“Fiore mio.” I cup her face, cradling gently, her skin ice-cold beneath my touch. “Come back to me.”

Her mouth parts as she gazes up at me, then looks around as if getting her bearings.

I let go of her, giving her the space she needs and lean back against a set of drawers. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you again. I promise you. You don’t need to be afraid anymore.”

The spell she was under breaks and it’s like a dam broke as she climbs onto my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. Her body shakes as she silently sobs against my shoulder. And the ice around my heart shatters all over again.

I hold her tight against me, never wanting to let her go. My fingers trace the scars on her back, feeling every smooth and jagged line. “Forgive me,” I whisper, praying she will. Not just for breaking into her bedroom and triggering her trauma, but for everything. The last time I was here, I left a path of destruction in my wake. This time I’ll make things right. “Is Angelos safe?”

She nods against my shoulder with a sniffle. Tears stream down her face and I kiss them away.

“Shh.” I stroke her hair and pull a blanket from her bed to wrap around her as I hold her in my arms. “Let me take care of you.” I pepper her face with kisses, then catch sight of her book on the small table. I reach for it, remembering the well-loved book. Almost every other page is dog-eared, faded pink pen highlighting her favourite quotes. I read aloud.

“With love’s light wings, did I o’erperch these walls;

For stony limits cannot hold love out,

And what love can do that dares love attempt;

Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.”

She lifts her head, her arms wrapping tighter around my neck. “Will you read more?”

I flick to another one of her dog-eared pages.

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

The more I have, for both are infinite.”

We hold each other for a long time as I continue to rub her back and read the highlighted passages in her book until she’s nodding off against my chest.

“Let’s get you into bed.”

She’s so tired, she can barely stand, but she doesn’t need to hold herself up. That’s why I’m here.

I kick off my shoes and drop my trousers, then lift my shirt over my head and slide into the bed next to her. We face each other just like our first time.

“Why do you have Magnus on your phone?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

“Is that why you left?”

“You planned to meet him.”

“He hired me to find you.” I run a hand over my face.

“And you took the job? That’s why you were on the flight?” Her body recoils, but I pull her flush with my chest.

“Yes, I took the fucking job. Because I wanted to throw him off the scent. But that’s not why I was on the flight. That encounter was pure fate. I met him afterwards. Figured If he wasn’t hiring me, he’d be hiring some other motherfucker.” I move the hair from her face. “If anyone is going to hunt you down, it’s me. Anyone else, I’d have to kill them.” A grin spreads across my face as if I’m joking, but I’m deadly serious. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“Because you lie more than Pinocchio. I can’t trust you.”

“I told you, I’ll spend the rest of my life earning your trust, but you have to let me. You can’t go running off. I need to know where you are, Rose.” A sigh leaves my lungs. “I thought he’d taken you.”

“He visited Angelos at school.”

My insides twist. “I should’ve killed him when I had the chance.”

“I’ll never be free of him.”

“Trust me. You will.”

She swipes a finger along the creases in my brow, her warm palm caressing my cheek. “I want to trust you, Dan. I really do.”

“I’ll earn it, Rose. If it’s the last thing I do. I’ll earn your trust.” I gaze into her eyes, trying to convey without words everything I feel. “Are you cold?” I wrap my arms around her, sliding my hands underneath the blanket.

“No.” She lies against my chest. The warmth of her seeps into my skin, and she’s definitely not cold, but she shivers again.

“What is it?” I press a kiss to her lips, needing to hold her, kiss her, show her I am the man she can trust.

“Will you do me a favour?” She gazes into my eyes, hers swollen from tears, sad and whimsical. red bleeding into her blue irises, like blood spilling into her dark pools.

“I’ll do anything for you.” I swipe her fake blonde hair from her face, hungry for the day she can let it grow out to her natural colour. Not because I prefer my brunette, but because it will mean she doesn’t have to hide anymore.

She swallows, her cheeks a deep shade of pink now her makeup’s wearing off. “Will you pretend you love me and make love to me?” She looks away. “I just want to feel like I did that night before everything went to hell.”

I gently graze her cheek with my fingertips, coaxing her face back to mine. A watery film covers her eyes, but the fire’s still there beneath the surface.

“Just for tonight. Just pretend for tonight and make love to me like you did back then. I want to forget everything. Forget all my worries and just be me again.”

I swallow the burning lump rising in the back of my throat. My heart aches as it cracks in two, blood spilling out like molten lava as heat coils around my lungs, making it difficult to breathe.

In one swift motion, I roll her onto her back. I hover above her, drinking in the sight of her. My goddess has never looked so fragile as her eyes plead with me to take her back to that night.

My heavy breaths fall on her lips as our noses kiss. “Fiore mio, I wasn’t pretending back then.” I slip my tongue into her parted mouth, showing her without words how I feel about her.

Her breasts are soft against my calloused palms as I roam a hand all over her skin, silently telling her how much I worship her.

The tip of my cock nudges at her slick entrance. “I wasn’t pretending then, and I’m certainly not pretending now.” I rock my pelvis and push in through her walls with a groan.

She whimpers, the watery glaze in her eyes pooling in the corners and as she blinks, it drips down her temples. “You don't have to lie to me.”

I kiss her tears away. My heart cracks again, spilling out more warmth as it pumps wildly beneath my ribs. “Give me your hand.” I hold her palm against my heart as I pull out of her and push back inside, slow and gentle, but each thrust a promise of my devotion. “You feel that?”

She nods as we both feel the thumps of my heart.

“It beats for you. It’s yours. If I could sever it and give you a piece of me, I would.”

She smiles. Her hand reaches my jaw, her thumb stroking my short beard. “I already have a piece of you.” A small laugh breaks through the sadness like a ray of sunlight breaking through a dark cloud. “He’s just younger, but probably just as cocky.”

I let out a small laugh of my own. “He’s probably cleverer too.”

“Hmm. And maybe a little less annoying.”

“I want to make ten more babies with you.” My cock slides in and out of her with ease, and I don’t want this night to be over, afraid that come the morning, her defences will be up and this intimacy between us will be just another beautiful memory to add to the vault.

“I don’t know if I could cope with ten more of you.” Her smile reaches her eyes, making them shine like diamonds and sapphires, and I already know my mother’s engagement ring is going to look great on her. “Maybe I can handle one more of you.”

My lips curve into a smile. “I’ll settle for one more.” I kiss her tenderly. Our bodies fused together just like an invisible force has tethered our souls all these years. I break the kiss and look into her eyes, twirling a lock of her hair around my finger. “I hope the next one looks like you.” I pepper her face with kisses. “Long dark hair, piercing blue eyes, ruby lips and sass for days.”

Rose smiles. “She’d be a daddy’s girl.”

“She’d be our girl.”

Her fingertip caresses my temple. “It’s a nice dream, D’Angelo.”

I grind into her, apply pressure to her clit, watching her mouth part with a short inhale of breath. “It’s not a dream. I’m gonna make it happen and we’re all gonna live happily ever after.”

“There are no happy ever afters in my world, Dan. Only happy for now. Sooner or later, everything will come crashing down.”

“The world can go to hell. Me, you and Angelos can get on a plane tomorrow and disappear. Our reality is whatever we make it, Rose.” I pick up speed, my stomach tightening as my balls draw up. “Come for me. I won’t be able to last much longer.”

Her nails scratch the back of my neck. “I’m almost there. Spill inside me. I want to feel you.”

Gazing down into her eyes while she asks me to fill her up has me barrelling to the finish line. I thrust my hips hard, slapping against the back of her thighs, but keep my control like I did all those years ago, desperate not to hurt her. A sheen of sweat coats my skin, my entire body on fire as my orgasm sizzles through every cell.

With each rock of my hips, I spill into her, my dick pulsing as she milks my cock.

Rose arches her back with a shallow whimper on her lips. Her nails claw at my shoulders as she vibrates beneath me, her legs quivering around my hips. “D’Angelo.” Her voice is nothing but a breathy whisper fanning my cheek. But my name on her tongue as she comes undone is the best sound in the world.

I kiss her, still rocking into her as we both ride the tsunami of our release. The words I love you are on the tip of my tongue, but she’s not ready to hear them yet. I spoke those words before—they just aren’t enough to convey how I feel. There are no words in the English dictionary that can encompass what I feel for her. I’ll just have to show her.

I roll to the side, but pull her with me, our bodies locked together. Our breaths mingle as we both come down from our high. I swipe the hair from her face and we just gaze into each other’s eyes for a beat too long.

My hand trails down her spine, catching the raised welts and slashes on her skin, and I curse myself for never feeling them or noticing them before now. “Is this why you wouldn't get naked in front of me?”

She nods, hiding her face in the crook of my neck. “It’s a sure way to kill the mood. They look hideous.”

“I don't give a damn what they look like. You're always beautiful to me. My beautiful queen, who's been so strong despite everything you've been through.”

“I got so used to hiding them from Angelos, it's just become habit.”

“You never have to hide anything from me, fiore mio.” I pepper her face with fresh kisses, hoping I can reassure her with my words, my touch, and my devotion.

“You have to go. If my brother finds you here, he’ll kill you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m never leaving you or my son again.”

“But my bro⁠—”

“Shh.” I kiss her lips and it’s full of unspoken promises. “Tomorrow, I’m going to have a meeting with Elio. We have some business to discuss. Then we’re going to tell Angelos the truth. You’re never going to need to hide these scars again. He’ll know I’m his real dad. I’m not perfect, but I’m no monster. Then we’re going to go back to England and live a normal life and we’re gonna be fucking happy.”

“Are you still going to be my gardener?”

“Yes. I’ll be your gardener, chauffeur, chef. Whatever you need. But most importantly, I'm going to be your husband once I've taken care of business.”

“I vowed I'd never marry another man.”

“I won't force you to do anything you don’t want to, but when you're ready to marry again, I hope you choose me.”

She closes her eyes and presses a soft kiss against my lips. “I’ve never heard you speak so reasonably or rationally.”

I quirk a grin. “I can be reasonable. Just don’t choose anyone else or I’ll have to kill them.”

A smile breaks through her weary face. And she snuggles against me, her breathing soft, her heart rate soothing me, and despite everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, I’ve never felt closer to her.

36

ROSE

Ichew my thumbnail raw, pacing the length of my bedroom like a caged bird. My stomach twists in knots, tighter with every breath.

Dan straightens his tie, cool and composed, like we’re just heading out to a Sunday brunch, not a showdown with my brother.

“Dark grey looks good on you,” I murmur, my eyes raking over him despite the storm inside me. “Matches your eyes.”

It’s the first time I’ve stopped pacing since I woke up this morning, and it lasts all of three seconds before the anxiety pulls me back into motion.

Dan’s hand catches my wrist mid-step, his fingers warm and steady. He tugs me closer, anchoring me to his chest. “Stop worrying. Everything will be fine.”

Fine, he says. He has no idea how volatile this could get. Has Dan forgotten what he did the last time he was here? “You have no idea how much my brother hates you,” I breathe, my chest tight.

A crooked smile tugs at the corner of Dan’s mouth. “He’ll probably hate me even more after our meeting.”

My heart drops like a stone. “Why? You won’t hurt him, will you?” Elio and I have had our differences, but I love my brother.

“Because I have a load of dirt on him and his operations,” he says too casually, as if we’re just talking about the weather. “And I’m unarmed. My only ammunition is the USB stick in my pocket. I may rough him up a little, but I won’t kill him.” His grin widens and I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

Hairs prickle on my skin. “Dan, you wouldn’t…” My voice falters. “He’s all Mamma has left here. He’s my brother.”

“It’s just leverage.” He says it like that’s meant to reassure me, but it doesn’t. “Are you ready?”

I’ll never be ready, but I force a deep breath, wrap my fingers around the door handle, and pull it down. As we step into the hall, I squeeze Dan’s hand tight, like a lifeline in the storm. I remind myself this isn’t the past. History can’t repeat itself. He’s here with me. He stayed till morning.

My chest tightens even more when Angelos appears in his pyjamas, climbing the grand staircase. He freezes at the sight of us, eyes narrowing, lips curling in disgust at the way I’m holding Dan’s hand.

“What are you doing here?” Angelos snaps, his narrowed eyes focusing on Dan.

My heart aches. The boy who used to reach for my hand now looks at me like I’ve betrayed him. I push the pain aside, wondering how we’re going to tell him the truth when he’s been poisoned against his true father. Guilt gnaws at my insides. It’s all my fault. I never should have sent him those stupid letters, pretending they were from Magnus, but I never wanted him to feel unloved like I did. I should’ve realised a mother’s love was enough, but I never felt enough for him.

“Dan’s here to see Uncle Elio,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Have you seen him this morning?”

“He’s having breakfast with Nonna,” Angelos replies, his lips still tight.

“Did you find a charger for your Switch?” I ask, desperate for a moment of normality.

“Bruno gave me one.” Angelos walks back down the stairs with us, like he doesn’t want to miss anything.

“Angelos, will you wait in your room? Dan and I need to speak with Uncle Elio.”

Dan stays silent, which is just as well. He doesn’t need to pour oil on this fire. I focus on my boy, on my racing heart, on keeping it together as he huffs and climbs back up the staircase to his bedroom.

As we approach the heavy wooden doors of the dining room, I hesitate, my palm slick against the handle. Dan squeezes my hand and nods reassuringly, and I inhale and push the door open.

Cutlery clatters against the plate. Elio rises from the head of the table like a storm brewing over dark seas. His chair scrapes back with a screech that sets my nerves even more on edge. Mamma sits beside him in her wheelchair, frail but defiant.

“What’s he doing here?” Elio’s voice is low and controlled, but full of bitterness.

“He’s with me,” I say quickly, stepping into the room before Dan can speak.

“I’m unarmed. I need to talk to you.” Dan lifts his hands in surrender, but Elio’s already drawing his gun.

“You can go to hell,” my brother spits, pointing the gun at Dan. “Rose, step aside.”

Mamma’s frail hand slams against the table. “Elio! Put your gun away. Listen to what he has to say.”

“He killed Father,” Elio growls, finger tightening on the trigger. “Why would you want to hear what he has to say?”

“Because your father was a tyrant,” Mamma answers calmly.

My breath catches in my throat. Old wounds fester in my mind, but now is not the time to think about Papa.

“How the hell did you get in here?” Elio ignores Mamma’s pleas and holds the gun steady.

My heart twists. I open my mouth to speak, but Dan steps in, his voice even and steady.

“You need better security,” he says. His calm rattles me more than my brother’s fury.

“I let him in. He’s with me.” I shield Dan with my body, afraid if I move an inch, Elio will shoot.

Elio’s glare cuts into me like a blade. “I should’ve known. This isn’t the first time you’ve let him into our family home, Rose. When are you going to learn?”

Heat creeps up my neck, but I don’t waver. I hold my ground, standing in front of Dan like a shield, though inside, I’m shaking. Thank heavens Angelos isn’t here to see this.

Dan lifts his hands higher. “I have intel you’ll want to see,” he says evenly. “Information about you, Elio. Evidence that could see you rotting in jail for the rest of your life.”

Elio’s eyes narrow, his finger twitching dangerously on the trigger. Sweat beads on his forehead, but his aim doesn’t falter. “You dare to come into my home and threaten me?”

Dan keeps his voice level, unflinching. “I’m merely stating facts. How this plays out is up to you. But I have a proposition.”

Elio’s jaw ticks. For a heartbeat, I wonder if he’ll pull the trigger, anyway. But then he lowers the gun just a little. “You’d better start talking, Bianchi, before I silence you once and for all.”

We move to the table. Dan takes the seat across from Mamma, but I can’t bear to let go of him. I stay at his side, my hand tight on his arm, like he’s the only thing tethering me to solid ground.

Dan’s words are sharp and deliberate. “I want a truce between our families. The Messinas are taking over the docks and intercepting cargo.”

Elio scoffs. “What the hell has that got to do with me?”

“Because the cargo they’re intercepting is yours, as well as Riccardo’s. If we teamed up, they wouldn’t dare operate in the vicinity.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Elio snaps.

Dan reaches slowly into his pocket, and I hold my breath. Elio’s hand twitches, holding the gun, his eyes darkening with suspicion.

Dan produces a small USB stick, holding it between his fingers like a grenade ready to blow. “Intel on the Messinas,” he says simply. “If you cooperate, I keep the intel I have on you to myself.”

“What’s in it for you?” Elio growls, mistrust oozing from every word.

Dan’s eyes flick to mine, full of warmth, almost making me forget the chill in my blood. “A truce. No more family rivalry.”

Elio sneers. “Why the fuck would you care?”

Dan’s voice softens, but it feels like a blow to my chest. “Because I’m sure Rose will want her family with us when we marry.”

My breath catches. My fingers tighten around his thigh beneath the table as warmth ripples through my chest.

“I think you’re forgetting,” Elio bites out, venom dripping from his words, “that my sister is already married.”

A bitter taste fills my mouth. Acid creeps up my throat.

Dan’s gaze hardens, his voice dropping to a low growl. “I got rid of the bastard once.”

I turn to him, my heart lurching. “That was you?” My voice is barely above a whisper. “You put him in prison?”

Dan’s hand covers mine, firm and sure. “I’ll finish the job properly this time,” he vows. His voice is like unbending steel. “He won’t have the luxury of a cell after everything he did to you.”

Elio places the gun next to his plate and nods to the USB stick in Dan’s hand.

Dan throws it the short distance across the table and my brother catches it, a curl on his lips as if he just scored a home run.

“I’ll take a look at this before I make any deals with a Bianchi.”

The door creaks open, a familiar voice slithers into the room. “Isn't this a cosy family reunion?”

I whip my head around, my throat tightening painfully. Icicles scrape down my spine.

No.

Magnus strolls along the back wall, behind Mamma and Elio, casual as you please, plucking from the breakfast buffet like he’s a guest at a family brunch. And behind him… oh please, no.

Angelos.

My breath lodges in my throat. I can’t move. I can’t speak.

My son follows Magnus like a shadow, as if he belongs at his side.

Terror claws at my insides. My legs tremble beneath me, my knees weak.

Dan stiffens like a coiled spring beside me. I feel the tension radiating off him, his whole body ready to launch across the table and rip Magnus apart with his bare hands.

Mamma’s voice cracks the tension. “Who let the dog in?”

Magnus pops a grape into his mouth, smiling like the devil himself. “My dearest mother-in-law. Have you forgotten we’re family?”

I gasp for breath. It’s as if he’s taking up all the air. “Angelos,” I rasp, my breath tight in my lungs. “Come to me.”

Magnus’s hand crawls onto my son’s shoulder, like a deadly spider, weaving him into his web.

Dan rises from his seat, slow and steady, baring his teeth. My brother’s gun rests on the other side of the table next to my brother’s plate. He’d have to be fast to lunge for it, but he wouldn’t risk shooting Magnus with Angelos so close to him.

“It seems the boy and your brother are the only ones around here who know loyalty,” Magnus says, his words like a blade to my chest.

I can’t tear my eyes from Angelos. He won’t even look at me. His young, conflicted face is pinched tight, his lips drawn into a stubborn line. What’s happened to my sweet boy?

I flick my gaze to my brother for help, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Elio leans back in his chair lazily with a sinister smirk playing on his lips. “You didn’t really think I’d stand by and let our father’s murderer get into your knickers again, did you, sorella?”

Dan’s jaw tightens. “You set me up?”

Magnus shrugs like it’s nothing. He chews another grape and smiles, shark-like. “If anyone could locate my wife, it’s you, Bianchi. You led me right to her. But getting you here was easier than I thought.”

Dan looks down at me, doubt flickering in his eyes. “Were you in on this, too?”

His words slice me open. My breath catches, but I manage to croak out. “Of course not.” I’m paralysed in my seat. Tears prick my eyes, blurring my vision, but I don’t dare let them fall.

As if in slow motion, Angelos’ small, trembling hands reach around Elio and close over the gun lying on the table. My heart lurches to my throat. No. No, no, no.

“Angelos!” My voice is raw, but he doesn’t stop.

With venom twisting his young face, he raises the weapon, his arms shaking with the effort. His gaze lands on Dan, his silvery eyes dark with hatred. “I heard what you said. You put Dad in prison. And now you’re going to finish the job.”

Dan lifts his hands slowly, palms open, trying to defuse the explosion about to ignite. “Put the gun down, son.”

“Don’t call me that!” Angelos snaps. His voice wavering with confusion cracking at the edges. “I’m not your son.”

My lungs seize. No air. It takes every ounce of strength I have left to push my chair back and get to my feet, my knees trembling under me. “Yes, you are,” I whisper.

Angelos’ hand shakes as he holds the gun, still pointing at Dan. His eyes flick to Magnus. “Dad?”

Magnus’s face contorts, a hint of triumph gleaming in his eyes. “Kill him, son,” he orders coldly. “He’s poisoned your mother with lies.”

My stomach twists with nausea. Magnus’s got his claws on my baby.

Mamma coughs weakly at the table, her voice rough as gravel. “Angelos… put the gun down.”

But Angelos’ hands tighten on the weapon. Tears streak his cheeks, but his aim at Dan doesn’t falter. “I won’t let you kill my dad.”

“Please, Angelos. Listen to me,” I beg, every word torn from my chest. It’s as if my feet are made of lead as I drag them the few steps towards Dan. I need to protect him. I can’t lose him now. Not after everything we’ve been through. Because I’d sooner have him in my life with no trust than go back to my old life with Magnus.

“Pull the trigger, Angelos,” Elio barks. “He murdered your grandfather in this very room.”

“No.” I step in front of Dan, hoping Angelos will listen to reason, but Angelos squeezes his eyes shut.

The crack of the gunshot splits the air.

Blind, searing pain rips through my abdomen. My breath rushes from my lungs like a tidal wave sucked out to sea. I stagger backwards, clutching my side beneath my breast. Warm liquid spills through my fingers. I look down at my red-stained hand. So much red.

The room tilts, everything spinning around me, voices muffle, but through the din, one voice stands out.

Angelos screams, his voice splintered with horror. “Mum!”

I barely hear Dan shouting, or the surrounding chaos. My legs buckle, but Dan catches me. I’m floating, a bright light shines through the window as if shining just for me, but I fight it for my son. And for Dan. For the life he promised.

“Mummy, I’m sorry.” My boy’s tears splash my cheeks.

I lift a trembling hand, cupping his wet face, my palm so weak I can hardly feel him. My breath is shallow. Every inhale is a battle.

“This isn’t your fault, son.” Dan’s voice cracks as if he’s speaking the words I long to say.

The world dims at the edges as I fade into the light.

“Rose. Stay with me, Rose.” Dan’s voice pulls me back like an anchor. His grey eyes, dull like unpolished steel submerged in water. Pressure under my ribs makes it difficult to breathe and I feel the pull to the light again where it was peaceful.

Dan’s voice roars over me, ragged with rage and fear. “Get a fucking ambulance.” He barks like a wounded animal. “If she dies—so do you!”

My chest rises and falls in painful heaves. I fight for every breath, dragging air into my lungs through sheer will alone. “Angel—” I can’t get his full name out. My voice is as thin as a petal.

“Mum,” Angelos sobs, shaking me.

I force my gaze to meet his, his beautiful face blurred by my fading sight. It’s hard to speak. I can barely breathe. So much chaos, but I hold my son’s gaze through his watery eyes. “Dan’s…” I say the words on each exhale. “Your…” My voice is a whisper now. “Father.” I’m slipping into that cold, quiet place.

No.

Not yet.

With everything I have left, I force the words out on a broken exhale before the darkness swallows me whole.

“Trust him.” The moment the words leave my lips, I’m weightless, falling into darkness, the present slipping through my fingers. Noise around me fades until it’s just echoes and I’m back there. Not now. Not again. But my mind drags me back to the first time my world fell apart.

Back in the shadows of the past…

Screams from downstairs pierce my ears as if they’re happening right now. Dan’s voice is gone, replaced by the alarms of memory as sirens wail, splitting the early morning silence.

I yank my dressing gown closed, and rush to the window.

Police cars race down the long drive of my family estate, lights flashing blue against the stone walls.

Panic crushes my chest. Dan. Where’s Dan? Have they found him? Are they arresting him? They don’t know he’s with me.

I run down the hall with bare feet.

Elio’s voice booms as I take the stairs. “Don’t touch anything!”

I freeze on the bottom step. "What’s going on?"

Mamma rushes to me, clutching me to her chest. "Thank God you’re safe."

But I twist away from her arms, my pulse thundering in my ears. Blood. So much blood. Only this time it’s not mine, but it might as well be if Dan’s dead, then so am I.

Blood smears the wall. A crimson trail leads me to the dining room.

“No,” I breathe, icy terror sinking into my bones. “No—not Dan.”

But as I take in my father’s body crumpled on the marble floor, a gunshot wound to his head. His eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. I feel nothing but relief.

I let out a breath, then the guilt wraps around my throat, suffocating me.

"Where’s Dan?" My voice cracks raw with fear.

Elio’s eyes darken. "Who the fuck is Dan?"

"My boyfriend." My heart races, my mind grasping for any thread of hope. "Daniel Harris!"

“You let a man into our home?” Elio spits.

My uncle looms behind him, fury carved into his face. “You stupid girl. He’s the angel of death, and he’s been picking off your father’s men one by one for the last month.” His slap across my face stings, my nose exploding with blood, but nothing stings more than the pain in my chest.

“No,” I whisper, my knees buckling beneath me. “He wouldn’t. There has to be an explanation.”

“He used you to get into our home,” Elio snaps, disgust curling his lip. “Why else would anyone date you, Rose? Think about it.”

Dan’s voice cuts through the haze, not from memory but from now, sharp and real, pulling me back from the abyss. “Rose.” His trembling hand caresses my face, warmth seeping into my cold cheeks.

I see the man I love from my past and present colliding in my fading vision, his eyes red and bloodshot, deep lines of worry etched into his beautiful face.

And I realise the truth.

He does love me.

He’s always loved me.

But now it’s too late.

37

DAN

Voices shout around me, but it muffles into static. All I hear is Rose’s shallow breaths as she fights to stay with us and Angelos’ broken sobs as he kneels beside his mother.

My hands are slick with her blood, pressing into her abdomen, trying to stem the flow. Judging by the way it pours, it’s penetrated her liver.

“Mum, I’m sorry,” Angelos cries, dropping the gun in front of him as if it’s burned his skin.

“It’s not your fault, son.” My voice is coarse, but steady. I’m a trained soldier. Trained for any situation, but nothing could have prepared me for this. I lower Rose to the floor, keeping one hand on her wound while I reach across her body and snatch the gun from between Angelos’ knees.

Elio, Magnus, and their men close in like vultures.

I raise the gun. “Get the fuck away from her.” My eyes scan the room, daring anyone to take another step.

“Let’s go, son,” Magnus says, reaching for my boy like he still has a right.

I swing the gun at him, my finger tight on the trigger. “You’ll never touch my family again.”

Rose’s cold hand brushes my cheek, her palm trembling as she slips in and out of consciousness. “Not in front of our boy.” Her eyelids flicker closed, and it takes all my strength not to pull the trigger.

I keep the gun trained on Magnus and nod to Elio. “Get him out of here before I kill him.”

Lucia slides out of her wheelchair, dropping to her knees at Angelos’ side. “Rose.” She strokes the hair from her forehead.

Rose opens her eyes again. Her blue eyes losing their lustre as the life drains from her body. “Take care of our son, Dan.”

“No, I won’t.” I press my palm harder against her wound, but the blood won’t stop. “You’re going to take care of him. Just like you always have.” My eyes plead with her to fight. “We’re going to take care of him together.”

Her lips ghost a bitter smile. “Happy ever afters don’t happen to people like us.”

“Yes, they do. They fucking do. Don’t you dare leave me again, Rose.”

The paramedics charge into the room.

Elio helps Lucia to her feet, to make room for the paramedics. Angelos clings to her side, his bloodstained hands clutching her sleeve.

He should be in my arms. But he won’t even look at me.

The paramedics haul Rose onto a stretcher, packing the wound. I need to go with her, but I need to keep my son safe.

“Angelos, let’s go in the ambulance.” It’s the only way I can keep my eye on the both of them.

“I’m going. I’m her brother,” Elio snaps.

“Solo uno. Only one allowed in the ambulance,” a paramedic says.

Fuck. There’s no time to argue, no time to think. I’m torn between the two of them.

Lucia must sense the anguish on my face as her hoarse voice cuts through the conflict. “Go with her. We’ll bring Angelos to the hospital.”

Police filter into the house, but I’ve no time to stop and answer questions.

I nod once at Elio, knowing he has them on his payroll, and sprint after the stretcher.

I climb into the back of the ambulance and sit stiff-backed on the bench as they work on her. I’m helpless as I bring my trembling bloodstained hands together under my chin and bow my head low, doing the only thing I can do.

Pray.

They rush her straight into surgery.

I try to follow, but a nurse blocks my path with her palm pressed to my chest. "You’ll have to wait out here, sir."

Sir. Like I’m some stranger.

I pace the corridor like a caged animal, fury and fear gnawing at my insides. My shirt is soaked in her blood. I glance down at my trembling hands, crimson streaking the lines of my palms. Her blood. Too much of it.

Ducking into the nearest restroom, I scrub my hands under the freezing water. Red spirals down the plughole, but the stains won’t lift from under my nails.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my face hollowed by guilt and terror. Get it together, Bianchi. She’s strong. She’ll pull through. She has to. Because if I lose her…

It won’t happen. It can’t. My son won’t lose his mother like I did. Memories threaten to invade the present, but I push them aside. I haven’t time to revisit the past, even though it’s the catalyst that caused all of this. A lifetime of family rivalry has led us here. And this is not where it ends for my family.

My hands won’t stop shaking under the dryer. I yank out my phone, my fingers fumbling over the screen, and fire off a text to Riccardo.

Get eyes on Magnus Berlusconi. Don’t just tail him. Detain him. I want him breathing, but only just. If anyone’s going to kill the son of a bitch, it’s me.

It’s not enough. I need to be doing something. Anything other than standing here waiting to fall apart.

The gun weighs heavily in my inside pocket, a reminder that I had my chance to put a bullet between his eyes and I let him go.

I return to the waiting room, my heart battering against my ribs. Lucia sits, pale but upright in her wheelchair, her oxygen mask slipping as she clutches it to her face, her other hand clenched around her rosary beads. Angelos huddles beside her, his small frame curled tight as a spring, eyes raw from crying.

Elio’s there too, arms folded, his stare cold enough to freeze hell.

I don’t sit. I can’t. The only seat free is next to Elio, and I’d sooner stand till my knees give out.

Angelos’ quiet sniffling gnaws at me.

I want to go to him. I want to hold my boy in my arms and tell him everything will be okay, even if it’s a lie, but I’m afraid he’ll turn away. Afraid I’ll see the same hatred in his eyes that I saw before the gun went off. I know he blames me. They all do. They’re probably right. My presence here fuelled everyone’s anger.

More people filter out of the room and the only sound is the clock ticking on the wall and the occasional sniffle from my son, but the throb in my temple is loud enough to drown out everything.

“Angelos, have you eaten today?” My voice comes out rough.

He shakes his head, wiping his nose on his sleeve, too exhausted to speak.

“Want to get a snack from the machine?” I nod towards the corridor and the vending machine.

Elio stands. “I’ll take him.” His eyes narrow as he walks past me and Angelos follows.

I watch them disappear, then drag a hand over my face and collapse into the chair beside Lucia.

Her frail hand pats my knee. “He’ll come around.”

I swallow down the lump rising in my throat. “You knew, didn’t you? About Angelos.” I gaze into her eyes, red with tears, her temples wrinkled with worry, but she gives me a warm smile, her eyes softening. “When you said he looks just like me, you meant Angelos.”

"Yes, I knew. But when I said he looks like you…" She touches my cheek like Rose did before she passed out, her palm warm. "I meant your father."

My spine bristles. “You knew my father?”

Her eyes glaze over with fresh tears as she nods. “He was a good man.” She lifts her mask to her mouth to take a deep breath, then pulls it back to her chin. “I’m sorry about what happened to your mother.” Her rosary beads rattle as she makes the sign of the cross.

I nod and say a silent pray, hoping my mother can hear me. If you’re up there, Mother, send me a miracle. I need you now more than ever. I close my eyes, praying to anyone who’ll listen. Just help Rose pull through this.

Angelos returns, clutching a chocolate bar and a can of pop. He looks up at Elio. "Uncle Elio… I feel sick."

"Just eat," Elio says gruffly, shoving the food towards him. "You need to keep your strength up for your mamma." His eyes flick to me, full of accusation. “This is all your fault, stronzo.”

My hands curl into fists. Why my father made me promise not to kill this fucker, I’ll never know. "If I recall, it was you who told him to pull the fucking trigger."

Elio’s face twists as he grips my shirt, forcing me back in the chair, spitting his fury into my face. “It’s not the first time my sister’s saved your miserable life. I should’ve finished the job when you were unconscious after your accident, but she made a deal for you.”

The words clang in my skull. “What are you talking about? What deal?”

He shoves me farther back in the chair, my head now resting on the wall. “You didn’t deserve her then, and you don’t deserve her now.”

I push up from the chair, my fists in his shirt, my rage barely leashed. “And if she dies, Elio, I swear you’ll wish I’d killed you today.”

He snarls back at me. “Whether she lives or dies. I’ll make sure you pay for everything you’ve put my family through.”

“Enough!” Lucia’s voice shouts through the tension. “Nobody is killing anyone.” She coughs, her hand flying to her chest. “Will you both sit down? You’re scaring Angelos.”

Her words slice through my anger. Angelos cowers behind Lucia, his eyes wide and brimming with fresh tears.

Reluctantly, I release Elio and adjust his collar like I haven’t just tried to rip his throat out. "What happened to the USB stick?"

“It’s at home. Safe.” He clenches his jaw, pushing me out of his space. “What was on it, anyway?”

“Your beloved brother-in-law has been playing you. He’s working with the Messinas.”

“I don’t have any beef with the Messinas.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You will when you open the drive. I told you, they’re stealing your shipments. It’s all on the drive.” I rub the stabbing pain in my forehead, making it difficult to think straight.

“How do you know?”

“It’s what I do, Elio. I gather intel. That’s my fucking job. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” A sharp pulse pounds behind my eyes. Pain crackles at my temples like an electric storm.

The door creaks open and a doctor enters, his expression grave.

I stand and hold on to the back of Lucia’s wheelchair for support. Angelos clings to her arm. Elio bristles at my side, and my heart pounds beneath my ribs as my intestines tie themselves into knots.

"She’s stable," the doctor says.

A rush of breath leaves my lungs and I say a silent prayer, my eyes flicking to the white ceiling and spotlights overhead.

“Can I see her?” Angelos asks.

The doctor’s lips tighten. “She’s in an induced coma. We’ve removed most of her liver, but…” He hesitates, then continues. “She has an underlying liver condition.”

“She’s hypoglycaemic,” I say.

“We found extensive scarring on her liver. She’s had this condition for a long time. It’s possible the symptoms were mistaken for hypoglycaemia.”

“What’s the condition?” Elio asks.

“We’ve found severe scarring and fibrosis on her liver. We’ll know more after tests, but it looks like autoimmune hepatitis.”

“What’s caused that?” Lucia says. “There’s no history of liver disease in the family.”

“There’s no single cause, Mrs. Conti. It’s likely a combination of triggers over time. Trauma, extreme stress, or infections.”

Nausea curdles in my belly. Acid eats away at my insides and all I can think of is the trauma she’s been through that’s been silently killing her all this time. Her body carrying hidden scars as well as her heart. But with the right environment, she can heal with time. She has to.

Elio scowls, still not fully understanding. "What trauma?"

I turn my head slowly towards him, my blood pounding in my ears. “Ask your beloved brother-in-law,” I rasp. “The same bastard who left her with enough scars to line a fucking map. The same one you let into your family without question.”

For a split second, Elio’s face drains of colour.

Lucia clutches her rosary tighter. Angelos stiffens between us, confusion flickering across his boyish face.

“You think that liver disease just happened?” I grind out, my voice shaking with a fury I can barely contain. “Years of him hurting her caused this. She kept it hidden to protect Angelos.”

Elio stares at me as if I’ve just driven a knife into his ribs. His fists clench. His mouth opens like he wants to deny it, then snaps shut again.

The doctor clears his throat. “Well, that explains the scars on her back.”

“So, what’s the next step? When will she recover?” Lucia says, rosary clenched behind her white knuckles.

He swallows hard. “The remaining liver isn’t likely to regenerate. She’ll need a transplant. And fast.”

Blood rushes from my head, making me dizzy. I lean on the wheelchair for support.

Lucia’s hand covers mine. “Okay. How soon can she get it?”

“We’ll start searching for a donor immediately, but I’m afraid we don’t just have spare livers lying around, and time is critical.”

Despite my hatred for Elio, one thing I admire about him is that the trafficking and organ harvesting stopped when his father died. But a spare liver would come in fucking handy right about now.

Angelos squares his shoulders, tears streaking his face. “She can have mine.”

I look at my son, who’s braver than any man I know, and I couldn’t be prouder at this moment. I turn to the doctor, knowing he’s not old enough to donate, my heart slamming against my ribs. “Take mine.”

“We’ll need to test compatibility.”

“I’m rhesus negative. Let’s get on with it.” I say a silent prayer to my mother, who was also the universal blood type. I feel a warmth shining on me as the sun filters through the window, as if she’s here telling me everything will be all right.

“It’s not that simple. We need to make sure yours is healthy enough to regenerate. There’s extensive testing. It will take time.”

“She doesn’t have time.” I take off my jacket and hand it to Elio, his gun in the pocket. “If anything happens to me, everything on that USB will be sent to my Italian Intelligence contact at the AISI. Don’t think I haven’t got insurance.”

I crouch in front of Angelos, cupping his pale face. "Whatever happens, I’ll take care of you. But I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure your mum comes back to you in one piece."

His arms fling around my neck, tight and desperate. "I’m sorry," he chokes out.

I squeeze him back. A breath leaves my lungs, as if releasing all the tension of the past twenty-four hours. “This is not your fault. Do you hear me? Not one bit. I don’t want you blaming yourself for this. It was an accident.”

“I’m scared.” His lip quivers as I hold him at arm’s length, squeezing his shoulders.

“Me too, but we’re going to get through this.” I rise and pull my phone from my trouser pocket. “Your uncle Dom will come over and take care of you.”

Elio pulls Angelos back to him. “He already has a family to take care of him.”

I glare at Elio. “You couldn't even take care of a stray dog.” I spit the words out. “Let alone those you claim to love. Your property has so many weak spots it's beyond a joke.”

“You’re the only person who’s ever broken in.”

“Yeah, and it was a piece of piss, just like it was the last time I paid you a visit.”

“Gentlemen.” The doctor gives us both a stern look. “Shall we get on with it?”

I give the family one last pained look before I follow the doctor for tests and tap Dom’s name on my phone.

“What’s up?”

“I’m gonna need you to fly to Rome. I need you here, brother.”

38

DAN

“What’s he doing here?” Elio spits, pacing the driveway of his home while on the phone to fuck knows who. His jaw ticks, and his hands clench at his sides as though he’s seconds away from throwing a punch.

I roll the sleeves of my shirt up to my elbows, the Mediterranean heat wrapping around me like a thick blanket, almost smothering. “He’s going to take care of things while I’m in the hospital.”

Dom lifts his case from the back of the taxi with a smirk on his face.

“Over my dead body!” Elio shouts.

Dom side-eyes me and mutters under his breath, “That can be arranged.”

“Be nice.” I grit the words between my teeth, my patience already wearing thin.

Elio throws his hands up in the air. “You moving your whole family into my home?”

“Nope. Just my brother. We’ll gladly stay at a hotel, but Angelos is coming with us. I’ve been cleared as a match. Now I’m just waiting for the call to go under the knife. And I don’t trust you to keep him safe in this house while I’m in the hospital. Especially with Magnus on the loose.” I point to the security camera at the front of the building, showing Dom the shitty gear he has. “That one needs replacing—it doesn’t pick up anyone who crosses the lawn. I want a wider angle camera installed here.”

Dom follows me into the house as I brush past Elio, ignoring the way he tenses at the contact. “Where’s Angelos?”

“In here.” The voice is warm, familiar, but aged with time. Rose’s mother sits in her wheelchair by the kitchen window, the sunlight casting deep shadows across her face. “I’ve just called the hospital. There’s been no change since last night and they’re keeping her in an induced coma for now.”

I nod, desperate to get back to the hospital to sit with her.

Lucia’s expression softens when she sees Dom enter the room. “Dominic? I haven’t seen you since you were a little boy.”

Dom furrows his brow. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

She waves him over, her frail hand gesturing. “Come here, let me get a good look at you.”

Dom sets his case down and approaches.

Lucia pats Dom’s cheek with a nostalgic smile. “You have your father’s eyes.”

Across the room, Angelos scowls from the kitchen table, shovelling cereal into his mouth as if he’s trying to ignore the whole situation.

Dom flashes him a small, easy smile. “You must be Angelos.”

Angelos looks up warily, still chewing, then gives a stiff nod.

Dom ruffles his hair on the way past, casual and brotherly. “I’m your Uncle Dom. Don’t worry, kid—I'm the cool one.”

A tiny twitch of amusement flickers across Angelos’ mouth before he schools his expression back into teenage indifference.

Lucia chuckles softly. “He gets that from his mother.”

Dom smiles at Lucia. “I’m not so sure. Dan here has the same broody look. Not to mention the emotional range of a teaspoon. I mean, it’s taken him over a decade to admit he’s in love with your daughter.”

He’s not wrong. I glance at my watch, restless. Visiting hours aren’t for another hour, but I hate being away from her, knowing she’s lying in a hospital bed because of a bullet meant for me.

Elio stomps into the kitchen, eyes blazing. “You think you can come in here like you own the place?”

Lucia exhales tiredly. “Elio. We’ve discussed this. They’re here to keep me and Angelos safe.”

He shakes his head, scoffing. “Oh, so you’re taking their side now? Have you forgotten these two plotted to kill your husband? And now you welcome them in with open arms?” He drags a hand through his slicked-back hair, gripping it at the roots. “This is insane.”

My stomach twists at the mention of that man. “Your father was a piece of scum.” The words leave a bitter residue on my tongue. “He deserved to die. My only regret is not making it hurt like the twisted punishment he ordered for our mother.”

Elio stills, his expression morphing into a cruel snarl. “Your mother was a whore. She probably asked for it.”

Breath leaves my lungs in a rush.

My vision tunnels.

Dom barely has time to move before I slam my fist into Elio’s face, launching him back onto the kitchen table.

Angelos’ cereal bowl clatters to the floor. Milk spills along the wood grain, and Angelos shoves his chair back with a screech, darting towards his nonna.

Elio struggles beneath my grip, but I force him down, one hand fisting the front of his shirt. My other hand snatches the closest thing—Angelos’ spoon. I tighten my grip around the handle, a sharp, burning rage overtaking me. I could take his eye out. Could serve it up in a bowl of soup for him to choke on. In my head, I’ve already done it, but his eyes stop me.

Dark brown, but flecked with a deep shade of amber. Just like my brother’s.

My father’s voice a distant memory. Don’t harm the son.

A heavy click echoes behind me.

I freeze.

Elio’s security guard, Bruno, stands in the doorway, gun raised, the barrel trained between my shoulder blades. “Let him go.”

My heart pounds against my ribs. Every bone in my body wants to serve his eyeballs up on a platter, but Rose. I can’t get myself shot when she needs me.

I hear the metallic scrape of a knife sliding from a block before I even see it. “Put the gun down, or I’ll slit your throat before you pull the trigger.” Dom is next to Bruno with a knife at the guy’s throat in the blink of an eye.

“Enough.” Lucia's voice slices through the suffocating air, followed by a sharp cough as she fumbles for her oxygen mask. The room shifts.

Bruno hesitates before slowly lowering his gun. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Conti.”

She waves him off, then levels us all with a piercing look, her voice thick with frustration. “Hasn’t there been enough bloodshed?”

Dom exhales sharply and shoves the knife back into the block. I don’t release Elio—not yet. His lip is split, blood trickling down his chin, but his eyes still burn with pure hatred.

I clench my fist tighter around his shirt. “You mention my mother again, and I’ll end you. Regardless of what my father’s wishes were.”

Elio scoffs. “What’s your father got to do with this?”

The room falls deathly silent.

Rose’s mother pulls her mask away, her gaze landing on Elio. Anguish flashes across her face. “Because, Elio… he was your father too.”

The words slam into me like a bullet. I don’t move. Can’t move. The whole room tilts, the weight of what she just said pressing down on me like a collapsing building. My ears ring, my heartbeat a brutal, unsteady drum against my ribs.

“No. No fucking way.” Elio stares at me with the same shock, the same disbelief, the same stubborn refusal to accept what we’ve just been told flickering in his eyes. My father? His father? The same man?

My head screams no, but I see it for the first time. The resemblance. He has the same features as my son. I thought it was through Rose, but it’s me.

I stumble backwards, trying to form words, but my throat is tight, locked down by the thick and suffocating weight of her words.

Elio lets out a sharp, humourless laugh, but it’s jagged and broken. “You’re lying.” His voice is raw.

Rose’s mother shakes her head, her frail hands gripping the blanket over her lap. “No, Elio. I should have told you years ago, but I⁠—”

“Shut up.” His voice cracks on the words, but he covers it up with anger, turning it into a weapon. He rises from the table and jabs a finger at her, his entire body trembling with fury. “Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you dare try to rewrite history. You’re just saying this to protect them.” He whips towards me and Dom, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched so tight I think his teeth might crack. “Ain’t no fucking way I’m a Bianchi.”

I swallow down the bile rising in my throat, threatening to choke me. One word on the tip of my tongue, but I’m too afraid of the answer. If he’s my blood, does that mean…

“Rose?” I blurt out. Acid coats my mouth as I wretch, my hand flying to my mouth, holding my breath. Not Rose. Is that why the tests said I was a good match for her? My eyes flick to our son. Our perfect son that we made out of love. She can’t be my…

Lucia shakes her head. “Rose belongs to my husband. There’s no doubt.”

I let out a breath, leaning over the sink, needing a drink of water. Some tension leaves my body, making the weight on my shoulders a little lighter. Turning around to face them again, I check on my son, his frame glued to his nonna’s side. It’s like history repeating itself. So many lies have been told over the years. Is this how he felt when he found out I was his father?

“She’s lying,” Elio says again. “Tell them.”

Lucia drops her head with tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. Deep-set wrinkles across her brow tell a story of struggle.

I wish she were lying.

I wish this were just some manipulation tactic, some power play, some sick, twisted game.

But I know it’s not.

I see it in her eyes. In Dom’s wide-eyed stare. In the way Elio is standing there, unravelling in real time.

My stomach twists, rage battling internally. I take a breath, but it’s ragged. “You’re my brother.” The words taste wrong on my tongue. Like poison and betrayal.

Elio’s throat bobs, his expression fragile for a brief moment. “Fuck you.”

He shoves past me, storming out of the kitchen as if he can outrun this truth.

A heavy silence lingers in his wake.

Rose’s mother exhales, sagging into her chair as if the weight of her own secret has drained the last bit of strength from her. “I never meant to hurt him.”

Dom folds his arms, his face as conflicted as mine. “Well, this explains a lot.”

I turn to Dom, searching his face for some kind of confirmation that this is bullshit, that this isn’t real, that our father wasn’t keeping this kind of secret from us our whole damn lives.

But Dom says nothing. Just stands there, his jaw tense, teeth grinding together as if he’s in deep thought. Probably doing the math in his head, as I am. Elio’s about my age, I’m sure of it. I remember Rose telling me her brother was much older.

My father—the man I respected, the man I trusted—had an affair. He had a son. He kept it a secret. And now, after all these years, I find out that the man I’ve spent half my life fighting, the man I nearly killed in this kitchen, is my fucking blood.

I killed Rose’s father. Believed, with every ounce of my being, that I was doing the right thing. That I was serving justice, taking out the bastard who sent men to murder my mother.

But Elio?

Elio never even had his blood in his veins.

Elio was never the son of the man I hated.

He was the son of the man I loved. The man I admired. The man I wanted to make proud.

My fucking father.

My head pounds. I brace myself against the counter, sucking in air as if I’ve been underwater for too long.

“Dan—”

I drag a hand down my face, trying to force the world back into focus. My pulse is hammering, my lungs tight like I can’t take in enough air. But I can’t walk away.

Not from Dom.

I glance at him, expecting him to be just as wrecked, but he’s standing stiffly, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw locked tight.

He’s pissed.

Not the usual Dom kind of pissed, the type that comes with an easy smirk and a snide comment. No, this is deeper. It’s sitting in the lines around his mouth, in the way his fingers dig into his own biceps like he’s trying to anchor himself.

I exhale sharply. “Say something.”

Dom snorts. “What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

We stand there, the truth sitting between us like a loaded gun on the table, waiting for someone to pick it up.

Dom and I have spent years hating Elio, thinking he was born from the same evil we were fighting against.

Turns out he came from the same man who raised us.

Dom finally looks at me, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Do you think he knew?”

I feel my stomach twist. “Dad?”

Dom nods. “Do you think he knew Elio was his?”

My gut churns. “I don’t know.”

Dom’s jaw works like he’s chewing on something bitter. He paces the kitchen. “He should’ve told us.”

“Yeah, well, so should she.” I turn to Rose’s mother, the accusation clear in my tone, but I try to keep my emotions controlled. On the outside at least, because my son is sitting beside Lucia at the table, still as a rabbit caught in the crossfire.

She swallows, looking down at her hands in her lap. “I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” My voice is razor sharp. “You let us hate each other. You let me—” I stop myself, clenching my fists.

She looks up, her eyes glossy with guilt. “It’s my fault.” Her voice shakes. “All of it. Your mother’s death. I’ve lived with the guilt of it all these years.” She takes a deep inhale on her oxygen. “If you can call my existence living.”

The room goes so silent, I swear I hear my heart beating.

She grips the blanket on her lap like she’s trying to hold herself together. “My husband found out about the affair. He—” Her throat bobs, and she exhales, slow and shaky. “He wasn’t a good man. Your father was my only comfort.”

The weight of it presses down on all of us.

For years, I thought I was avenging my mother’s death. Thought I was putting down a monster. Thought I was right.

But now, standing here, I realise—I was just another player in a game that started long before I was even born.

A door slams at the front of the house. Elio’s heavy footsteps grow louder, but I don’t turn around. I keep my gaze locked on the woman who started all of this.

Elio storms into the kitchen, his face a mask of barely contained fury. His hands are shaking with the weight of betrayal.

Elio shakes his head, like he’s seeing me for the first time. Like he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with this revelation either.

He exhales sharply, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I don’t know what the fuck this means. And I don’t give a shit about what should’ve happened. But know this—” He looks between me and Dom. “We might share blood, but we’re not brothers.”

A bitter snarl tugs at Dom’s lips. “You think we want to be your brother?”

He scoffs. “Good. Then we agree on something.”

“Regardless of this new information. You and I are tied together through Rose. She will be my wife as soon as she’s out of the hospital.” I don’t know if I’ll ever look at Elio and not see the man I thought was my enemy. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive my father for keeping this from us. But one thing is certain, I’m stuck with him and this family regardless of blood and I have to make this work for the woman I love.

“So, what do we do now? Play happy families? Thursday game nights?” He snarls at the two of us.

I check the time on my watch. “Right now, I’m going to the hospital to sit with my future wife before I go under the knife. And when I come back, we’ll figure this shit out.” My lips lift in the corner. “I prefer Monday nights for game night.”

I take the few steps to Angelos and hold out my arm. “Want to come and sit with your mum for a bit?” I need to get out of here. Need something to calm the chaos in my head.

Angelos nods and rises from the chair.

I look back at Dom and Elio. “Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”

Dom chuckles, shaking his head.

Lucia watches me leave with a solemn expression, but a faint hint of hope in her eyes.

“D’Angelo,” Elio calls. He throws me the keys to his car. “Take the Maserati.”

I catch the keys. “You haven’t fucked with the brakes, have you?”

“You have my word. I’ll cooperate for now. Just bring my sister back to us.”

I nod, gripping the keys as I step out of the house, Angelos at my side. The weight in my chest doesn’t lift, but for the first time since this conversation started, I have something solid to hold on to—Rose and my son. They’re my anchor in this mess, the only thing that makes sense in a world that’s just been flipped upside down. Rose is the glue that holds all of this together, the only reason any of us are even trying.

I throw the Maserati into gear, the engine purring like a damn tiger. Beside me, Angelos sinks low into the passenger seat, his arms crossed tight across his chest.

“Well,” I say, tapping the wheel, “at least if the brakes give out, we’ll crash in style.”

Angelos snorts a tiny puff of air, almost a laugh.

I’ll take it. “Who knew Elio had a car that matched his personality?” I mutter, flicking on the indicator.

Angelos glances over. “What do you mean?”

I grin with a shrug. “Loud. Expensive. Unreliable.”

Angelos lets out a choked laugh.

I laugh along with him. “Probably breaks down once a month, costs a fortune to fix, and still thinks it’s God’s gift.”

Angelos shakes his head, a genuine smile pulling at his mouth. “Uncle Elio’s all right. He has a Ferrari too, you know?”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” I turn onto the main road. “My Audi’s better, though, right?”

Angelos furrows his brow. “Bruh, there’s no comparison.”

I can’t help the grin tugging at my mouth. “Bruh,” I echo, shooting him a look.

The tension’s still thick, but it’s cracked now. Just enough for me to slide a few words through it.

“You okay?”

He shrugs, staring out the window. “Nonna said my grandfather wasn’t a nice man.”

My arms tense, straightening out in front of me as I clutch the steering wheel.

“Is that why you killed him?” He doesn’t look at me, just stares out the window at the bustling city streets as I pull up to a red light.

“He hurt your mother.” I swallow the thick air, knowing that was the final nail in her old man’s coffin. I often wonder, if he’d been a loving father to Rose, would I have aborted the mission?

“Is that why you wanted to kill Da—I mean, Magnus?”

“Yes, son. You know I loved your mum more than anything. That was until I found out about you a few weeks ago. Now you’re both my number one priority.” I press my foot gently on the accelerator as the light changes to green.

Angelos doesn’t look at me, but his knee bounces.

“I may not have been around, but I’m not going anywhere now. I promise you that.”

The Maserati glides along the road, the hum of the engine filling the silence between us. Angelos fiddles with the hem of his sleeve, staring out the window like the city might offer him an escape.

A few beats of silence pass before he mutters, so low I almost miss it, “It’s all my fault.”

My grip tightens on the wheel. “What is?”

He swallows, voice thick. “Mum… getting shot. I screwed up…” His voice cracks, and he shakes his head, jaw clenching. “I should have aimed the gun at him.”

“Hey.” I reach over, squeezing his shoulder, firm but careful. “None of this is on you, Angelos. You hear me? Not one fucking bit.”

He doesn’t answer, but his shoulders shake once, a quick, fierce tremor, like he’s holding back everything inside him.

I keep my hand there a second longer before pulling back.

“I don’t want you carrying this guilt or this hate around with you. I’m your dad. It’s my job to take care of you now. You and your mum and I’ll take care of that evil bastard too, don’t you worry.”

Angelos nods and wipes at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, pretending like he’s just itchy.

“She’ll be all right, won’t she, Da—Dan?”

My heart stutters, the steering wheel twitching in my hand as I thought he was about to call me dad. I let out a sigh. Baby steps. We’re making progress every day.

“Your mother’s a warrior, son. She’ll pull through.”

We don’t say anything else the rest of the ride.

We don’t need to.

I was only Angelos’ age when my mother was murdered, when my universe was ripped apart. I’ll be damned if my son goes through the same thing. Rose’s survival is all that matters now. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure he has his mother.

I’ll bring her home. Even if it kills me.

39

DAN

“You look like shit.” Dom’s voice has me cracking open one eye as I tilt my head in his direction.

“Good to see you too, brother.” Pain ripples in my side as I try to adjust myself. “Fuck.” I groan and clench my back teeth.

“Here, let me lift the bed if you want to sit up.” He holds the remote control for the bed and pushes a button.

The electronics hum as I’m raised slowly, my hand clutching the padding over my ribs.

“Want me to get the nurse?”

“Yeah. I need more pain relief. This stings like a bitch.” Sweat coats my skin and I let out a strangled breath as another ripple of pain hits. “Have you seen Rose?”

Dom pushes a button at the side of the bed for the nurse. “Yeah, she’s in the ICU, still unconscious, but stable after the op.” Dom sits in the chair next to the bed. “The kid and Elio are with her now.”

I wipe my brow. My body temperature climbs as nausea rises from my stomach. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Dom hands me a cardboard bowl and I vomit the small remnants of food I have in my belly.

The nurse hands me a tissue and a glass of water. “It’s the side effects of the anaesthesia.” She takes the sick bowl from me. “I’ll get you some more pain relief, but it will probably make you drowsy again.”

I nod. “A coma is the best thing for her. I don’t want her in this kind of pain.”

Dom’s lips curve upwards in the corner as he reclines back in the chair.

“What’s that shit-eating grin for?”

“I always knew she was the one. It’s why I’ve never known you to be with a woman longer than a week.” He shakes his head. “I should’ve realised it thirteen years ago when you said you needed more time for the mission. The only extra intel you wanted was to find out the colour of her knickers.”

I glare at him in a warning. “You mention my future wife’s knickers one more time and I’ll kick your arse.”

“I’d like to see you try. The only thing you’ll be kicking is the bucket if you don’t take it easy.” Dom smirks, stretching his legs out in front of him like he’s at home. “Face it, you’re not the intimidating hard-ass you were before they sliced you open. You’re just a guy in a gown flashing his arse every time he shifts in bed.” He chuckles. “And it’s not your best angle.”

I scowl at him, adjusting the sheet over my lap. “Piss off. I could still beat your ass in one-to-one combat.”

He chuckles again, clearly enjoying himself. “Look at you, all helpless and cranky. You need anything? Extra pillow? Cup of tea? Bed bath?”

I shoot him a murderous look. “If you come near me with a sponge, I will end you.”

He holds his hands up. “All right, all right. No need to get your stitches in a twist.” His smile fades slightly, and he exhales, running a hand over his face. “You scared the shit out of me, man.”

I sigh, some of the tension draining from my shoulders. “Yeah, well… you and me both.”

Dom nods, his gaze flickering to the machines beeping quietly beside me. “When I walked in, you looked half dead. Rose was already fighting for her life, and then you pull this self-sacrificing shit⁠—”

“She needed me,” I say, my voice hoarse. “And I’d do it again.”

“Yeah, well, don’t. You’re not some invincible superhero, Dan. You’ve got a kid now who needs you around.” His jaw tightens before he forces a grin back onto his face. “And, selfishly, I don’t fancy spending the rest of my days explaining to people how my idiot brother bled out on an operating table because he had a hero complex.”

“Having a hero complex must run in the family.” I nod at his leg. “How’s that bullet wound, Dom?”

Dom leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Getting shot by my woman’s psychotic relative isn’t the same as offering a piece of your liver.”

The nurse returns with my pain relief. “I think it’s really heroic what you did, sir.”

Dom waves a hand in the air. “Don’t go fanning his hero complex. Tell him he needs to put himself first and take care of himself before he can take care of anyone else.”

She gives me a drink of water. “We’ll get you back on your feet in a few days or so.”

“Can I see Rose?”

“We’ll get you out of bed in a while and I can wheel you to her room so you can sit with her.” She takes the water from me with a smile and walks back to the front desk.

“How’s Angelos doing?”

“He’s a moody little bastard, but that’s to be expected.” Dom quirks a grin. “Must take after his old man.”

I huff out something between a chuckle and a groan with the pain in my abdomen. “What if the kid hates me?”

“He doesn’t.”

“He tried to put a bullet in me.”

“The kid’s got balls. I must admit there’ve been times I’ve wanted to do the same.”

Another huff of a laugh sends a shooting pain to my lungs. Everything aches. “Stop making me laugh. It hurts.”

“At least the kid’s grandma likes you.”

“How’s Elio been with you?”

Dom shrugs a shoulder. “He doesn’t like me pointing out the weaknesses in his security. His mother keeps him in line. I think you giving up an organ has earned you a sliver of respect.”

Dom watches as I blink sluggishly, the painkillers already working their magic. "Christ, you’re a lightweight. One shot of morphine and you're halfway to snoring."

I let out a grunt, my head sinking heavier into the pillow. "Not a lightweight… just appreciating modern medicine."

"Right. That’s why you look like you’re about to drool all over yourself."

I crack one eye open, fighting through the drowsiness. "You’re a real pain in my arse, you know that?"

Dom huffs out a laugh. "Oh, I know. And you’re an even bigger pain in mine. But lucky for you, I’m too damn fond of your ugly mug to let you die on me."

I huff out a weak laugh. "Touching. You gonna get that put on a greeting card?"

"Already in the works. ‘Happy Birthday—don’t die, you stubborn bastard.’"

My eyelids grow heavier, my body sinking deeper into the mattress. The warmth of the painkillers dulls everything, making it easier to let go.

Dom’s voice softens just a fraction. "Get some sleep, yeah? You earned it. And when you wake up, I’ll be here to remind you of what an absolute idiot you are."

I let out a half-hearted grunt, but I don’t fight it.

“Bloody hero complex.”

On the verge of sleep, the warmth of the morphine dulling the ache in my side, I don’t have the energy to respond. As my eyelids grow heavier, I hear Dom mutter, “Told you she was the one,” and even half-conscious, I know he’s right.

40

DAN

Ilift Rose’s hand and bring it to my face, my fingers entwining with hers as I press my lips to the back of her hand. “Do you think she can feel me?”

The nurse looks up from her chart. “She’s heavily sedated, but yes, I believe patients can sense when loved ones are close by.” She pats my shoulder over a t-shirt. “Talk to her.” Her smile is sympathetic before she walks out of the room, leaving us alone with nothing but the drone of machines and the beeping of her heart monitor.

I’m grateful that Elio paid for her to have her own room and be treated privately. His money might be from blood and bricks of cocaine, but right now, I couldn’t care less where it came from. As long as Rose get’s the best care possible.

“Fiore mio.” I kiss her fingers, hoping she can feel me, hear me. “I have plans for us, Rose. We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together. If you’ll have me.” I close my eyes, warming her hand against my face. We have a long road ahead and lots of bridges to build, but I pray she’ll still want me after all this.

“Do you remember when you took me to the Borghese gallery? You showed me around, pointed out all your favourite paintings.” A whimsical smile lifts my cheeks. “I can’t remember any of them because I was just watching you the whole time. The way you lit up the room when you talked. Nothing in that museum was as captivating as you and you had no idea how beautiful you were.”

I chuckle softly in the sterile quiet. “Stealing my heart wasn’t enough… now you’ve got a piece of me keeping you alive.”

I rest her hand over my bandaged side, where the ache pulses beneath my skin. “It hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the pain I felt when I thought I’d lost you for good. I’d rip out every part of me if it meant keeping you breathing. Our son needs you.”

The monitor hums in a steady rhythm, each beep matching my own fragile heart.

“I know we’ve got things to fix. Words left unsaid. But we’ve got time now. We’ve got a future, Rose. If you still want it. If you still want me.”

I lower my head, my forehead brushing the back of her hand. “Come back to me, fiore mio. I’m not finished loving you yet.”

The door opens. Lucia rides into the room in her new electric wheelchair. “How are you, D’Angelo?”

“I’ve been better.” My lips lift in the corner. “Are you alone?”

“Elio’s just dropped me off. I wanted to sit with her for a while.” She pulls out her rosary and kisses the cross.

“You should get some rest. You look tired.”

She raises an eyebrow. “So do you.”

I huff out a sigh. “I won’t settle until she wakes up and I know she’s all right.”

She hums softly, rolling her chair closer to the bed, her aged fingers smoothing over the rosary beads. "You're a good man, D’Angelo."

I let out a dry chuckle, shaking my head. "Not sure everyone would agree with that."

She tilts her head, watching me carefully. "You saved my daughter’s life. That makes you good in my book."

I glance at Rose, her face tinged with jaundice against the white hospital sheets. I wish I could believe that. But there’s too much blood on my hands, too many things I’ve done.

Her mother exhales softly, her fingers tightening around the rosary. "I owe you an apology, Dan."

I lift my gaze to hers, my eyes widening. "For what?"

She hesitates, as if she’s gathering the strength to say it. “For what my husband did to your mother. For what I caused.”

The words land like a heavy stone in my chest. I swallow, my throat tight. "You didn’t order the hit. He did."

“But it was because of me. He wanted to punish your father in the cruelest way,” she whispers, her eyes glassy. "I knew what kind of man he was. I knew what he was capable of. And still, I couldn’t stay away from your father when he visited Rome on business. I loved him. Seeing him was the only joy I had, but our love ruined so many lives—including yours."

I sit back, rubbing a hand over my jaw, my muscles tense. “Did he love my mother?”

A tear drips onto her hollowed cheek. “Yes, he did. He told me he had met someone, and he was going to marry her. We agreed we wouldn’t see each other again, but then Elio came along. He wanted to see his son when he could.”

“Did Rose’s father know about Elio?”

“No. He never let on if he did. I don’t think he ever realised just how far back our affair went. But I met your father before my marriage. Then several months later, he noticed the change in me. The brokenness that even my own family failed to acknowledge, or maybe they just turned a blind eye to it.”

I wrap both my hands around Rose’s fingers. Her mother’s story is very similar to hers, as if it’s a generational curse. But that curse ends with us. Lucia may never have got her happy ever after, but I’ll make it my mission that Rose lives the rest of her days like a princess in a fairy tale. I gaze down at my sleeping beauty, wishing one kiss would make her wake. Only I’m no Prince Charming. I’m not even a white knight.

A small laugh shakes my shoulders, causing a sharp pain behind my ribs as I remember what Dom called me. I’m just a guy in a hospital gown donating an organ. But I’d give up my life for hers if it came to that. Dom’s right. She’s always been the one.

“You’re probably right. He would have most likely killed you and Elio if he knew the truth.”

Lucia lets out a bitter laugh. "I think he planned to kill me, anyway." Slowly, she reaches for the collar of her blouse and tugs it down slightly, just enough to reveal a long, jagged scar along her collarbone, the skin puckered and stretched with time.

My jaw tightens. "He did that?" My stomach knots.

She nods, swallowing hard. "One of many. Your father may have been the man I truly loved, but I paid for that love every single day. My husband… he wasn’t just cruel in the way he ordered men to kill. He enjoyed breaking people. And I was his favourite thing to break."

Rage flares hot in my chest, but beneath it there’s something cold that's glad I put a bullet in him, and I can't wait to do the same with Rose’s abuser.

I never doubted it was the right thing. Not for a second. But now, knowing what he did to Lucia, knowing what he put Rose through, what he put all of us through, a part of me wonders if I should have made him suffer more. I shake my head, exhaling sharply. “If I had known⁠—”

She stops me with a look. “No. What you did, you did for your mother. For yourself. But you also saved me, Dan. I won’t pretend I wasn’t relieved when I found him dead. For the first time in my life, I could breathe.”

I let that sink in. Her husband’s death wasn’t just justice. It was freedom.

She shifts her gaze to Rose, her expression softening. “But the scars he left didn’t die with him. They live on in the people he hurt. You know that better than anyone, don’t you?”

I look at Rose, my throat tightening. “She has scars too.”

Her mother nods. “From her husband.”

I close my eyes briefly, remembering the first time I saw them. The thin, raised marks trailing over her back. The way she flinched when I first traced them with my fingers. The way her breath caught, like she was waiting for something bad to happen.

I’d never hated anyone more in my life than I did at that moment. I force out a breath. “No one ever hurts her again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Her mother reaches for my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. “You’re the only one I trust to do that, Dan.”

Silence settles between us, heavy but not suffocating. Understanding.

“Do you know why she married him?”

I swallow the bile in my throat, not sure I want to know the reason she married a monster while I was lying broken in a field hospital after the helicopter accident. “It’s all in the past now. It doesn’t matter.”

“She made a deal with her uncle and Elio. He put a target on your back and your brother’s. Nothing I said would appease him. He wanted revenge. I should have told Elio the truth back then, but I feared if my husband’s relatives got word, they’d cast Elio out of the family, and me.”

Through gritted teeth, I say, “What was the deal?”

“She begged him not to kill you or your brother. Said she’d do anything.” Lucia strokes Rose’s forehead. “Elio needed to solidify ties overseas. With my husband gone, the family was vulnerable. Her uncle said if she married Elio’s contact in the UK who owned the casino, the head of the Italian crime family in London, he’d call off the hit for you and your brother.”

I close my eyes, holding back the flood of emotion threatening to drown me. “I thought she did it out of spite. I couldn’t stand the thought of her with another man, so I spent every waking hour gathering as much dirt on him as I could to make a case to put him behind bars.” My palms warm Rose’s hand between them, hoping if she can hear me, that she’ll forgive me. “I wanted her to hurt like I was. I wanted her to be as miserable as me.” I silently curse myself for being such a fucking selfish bastard. “The whole time she was in an abusive relationship.” I fight back the emotion clogged in my throat.

Lucia nods. “She hid it well for Angelos’ sake. But putting Magnus behind bars probably saved her life.” She gives me a warm smile. “You’ve both had this connection since you were young, and you’ve unintentionally saved each other on numerous occasions.” Her gaze drops to the cross in her hands. “You’re not just two people who found each other—you’re two souls that have been reaching for each other across time, through every scar, every loss. She saved you when you didn’t even know you needed saving, and I know you’ll spend the rest of your life doing the same for her.”

Rose’s mother squeezes my hand one last time before releasing it, and leaning back in her chair. "You should get some rest. She’s going to need you when she wakes up."

I nod, but I don’t move.

Because until Rose opens her eyes, I won’t rest.

We’re broken in different ways, but somehow, the pieces fit. She’s been saving me for as long as I’ve been saving her. Maybe that’s what love really is—two souls pulling each other out of the darkness, over and over again.

41

ROSE

Pain is all I feel. A dull, aching weight presses into my side, like something heavy is lodged beneath my ribs. My body is sluggish, my limbs unresponsive, but the pain is real.

Then comes the soft beeping sound, a rhythmic, steady hum of machines, the occasional rustle of fabric, quiet murmurs.

I pry my eyes open, the world blurring into a soft, golden haze. The fluorescent light overhead is too bright, making me wince as I try to focus. Slowly, things come into view. The IV line taped to my hand. The figure sitting beside me, with a hint of lavender perfume, cutting through the clinical smell of disinfectant.

“Mamma?” My voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

She turns sharply, her rosary clinking against the armrest of her wheelchair as she reaches for my hand. “La mia bella rosa.” Her voice trembles with relief.

Something small and warm curls against my other hand.

“Mum.”

Angelos.

My chest clenches as I turn my head, finding my son pressed against the bed, his cheek resting on my arm. His dark lashes flutter against pale skin, exhaustion tugging at him, but he’s here. He’s safe.

A sob catches in my throat. I want to hold them, bury my face in their warmth, tell them I’m okay even if I don’t feel okay, but I can’t move.

The relief I feel is washed away with dread as I scan the room. “Where’s Dan?”

I search the room again, my heart rate picking up, the beeping machine showing my panic. He’s not here.

My fingers tighten around Mum’s. “Where’s Dan?” My voice cracks, barely concealing the terror clawing at my ribs. “Is he⁠—”

Dead.

No. No, I can’t do this again. I can’t lose him.

Mum’s lips part, but before she can answer, the door creaks open.

And there he is.

My breath stutters, tears blurring my vision as he steps inside. His broad shoulders fill the doorway, the familiar set of his jaw, the stormy grey of his eyes locking onto mine. He looks exhausted—his skin pale, his movements slow—but he’s alive.

“Dan.”

The relief is instant, overwhelming, like air rushing into lungs that have been starved for too long. My body screams with pain, but I don’t care. He’s alive, and he’s here.

His lips curve, just slightly, but his face is drawn, his hand bracing against his stomach as he moves towards me. His steps are careful, measured, like every inch he covers takes effort.

Mum must see it too because she lets go of my hand and gestures to Angelos. “Come, tesoro. Let D’Angelo sit down.” She gives Dan a warm smile. “This man hasn’t left your side the whole time, and you have to go and wake up while he’s having physio?”

“Physio? For what?” Panic grips me again.

Angelos gives up his chair for Dan and stands at my bedside.

Dan lowers himself into the chair beside me, wincing as he does. His hand presses against his stomach, pain flashing across his face before he forces it away.

“You’re hurt.” My fingers twitch to reach for him, but I don’t have the strength. “You got shot too?”

His brows pull together before understanding dawns. “No, fiore mio.” His voice is rough, like he’s been through hell. “I’m fine. Just sore.”

I shake my head, trying to sit up, but the pain under my ribs flares, making me suck in a sharp breath. “You’re lying. You’re in pain.”

His jaw clenches, his hand resting over mine. “Don’t worry about me, Rose.”

My breath catches. “What happened? What about Elio? Where’s Elio?”

“Everyone’s fine, Rose,” Mamma says.

Dan exhales slowly, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I was shot.”

Angelos whimpers at my side. “I’m sorry, Mum. I never meant to⁠—”

Dan reaches for his hand. “Hey, we talked about this.” He pulls Angelos closer, his voice quieter, steadier. “I know what it feels like to blame yourself for something you can’t change. But you’re not responsible for any of this. You hear me?”

Angelos’ lower lip trembles, but he nods, gripping Dan’s hand tightly. “I was so scared.”

“I know, kid.” Dan squeezes his shoulder. “But you don’t have to be anymore. You’ve got me now.”

Angelos blinks up at him, his tired face a mixture of emotions. He doesn’t say anything else, but when Dan gives his hand one last squeeze, Angelos doesn’t let go.

My chest blooms at seeing them together like this.

“Dan’s right, sweetheart. I don’t want you blaming yourself for any of this. I’m fine now.” I hide the pain gripping my abdomen and hope he doesn’t see the sweat beading on my forehead.

“You lost too much blood. Your liver—” Dan swallows hard, taking my hand in both his palms.

“Will I be okay?”

“Yes. I’ll make sure of it.”

“What about you? Will you be okay?”

He smiles and lifts his t-shirt, revealing a large surgical pad and gauze dressing surrounded by the beautiful ink that I love. “We’re both gonna be fine. We have matching scars now.”

“I don’t understand. Did the bullet get you, too?” My fingers trace the outline of his dressing.

“Dad gave you his liver.”

Hearing Angelos say the word dad makes me recoil, but I gaze into Dan’s eyes and know he’s the dad Angelos is talking about.

“Well, only part of my liver. Or I’d be dead.” Dan smiles and ruffles Angelos’ thick dark hair. “Maybe less gaming and more biology lessons, kid.”

Angelos just smiles, tears filling up his eyes.

I flick my gaze between the two of them. “Is that true?”

Dan places my hand over the hospital gown that covers the dressing. “You’ll always have a piece of me, fiore mio.”

My head is light and dizzy, as if the room is tilted on an axis. I look at him again, really look at him. The exhaustion in his face, the paleness of his skin, the way he moves carefully and slower than usual.

“You did this? For me?”

Mum wheels her electric chair around the bed and nods to Angelos. “Let’s give them a moment.”

Angelos frowns, reluctant to let go, but Mamma nudges him gently. “She’s safe now. Let’s go get you something to eat.”

He leans over and kisses my cheek. “I love you, Mum.”

“I love you, too.”

Dan rubs Angelos’ shoulder as they share a look. Both have the same quiet understanding.

Tears sting my eyes as Mamma wheels out of the room, Angelos trailing behind her, glancing back at me one last time before the door clicks shut.

The air thickens, my heart breaking and swelling at the same time. I squeeze Dan’s hand as tightly as I can manage, my throat aching with unshed tears. “You—” My voice fails me, the weight of it all too much. “You really are my guardian angel.”

He shifts, leaning forward slightly, his forehead nearly brushing mine. “You’re stuck with me now.” His lips ghost against my knuckles. “I gave you a piece of me.”

The dam breaks. “Why would you do that?”

He swipes away the tears on my cheeks. “Because you’re mine and I take care of what’s mine.”

A sob rips through my chest, and he catches it, pressing his lips to mine, his touch soothing even as his body fights its own pain.

“I thought you left me again,” I whisper, hating how small my voice sounds.

His eyes darken, his grip tightening. “Never. I’ll never leave you again. Not unless you ask me to.”

His words wrap around me, filling the hollow parts, the broken parts. I let myself believe them. Because D’Angelo gave me more than just his liver. He gave me his life. And I’ll spend the rest of mine making sure he never regrets it.

I let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed by his sacrifice and the way his lips brush over my knuckles like a silent vow.

“If this is your way of grovelling, you’ll have to do better than that.” A smile breaks through the tears.

A rough sound escapes him—half a chuckle, half a groan. “What donating an organ isn’t enough for you?”

Tears slip from my lashes, my emotions unravelling as I grip his hand, still in awe that he did that for me.

“If you want me on my knees, all you have to do is ask.” His lips trail to my ear as he whispers, “I’m not above begging, fiore mio. It won’t be the first time I’ve been on my knees for you this week, and until you’re well, it won’t be the last.”

“You prayed for me?”

“Of course I did. You’re mine. You’ve been mine for longer than you realise.” His fingers trace slow, careful circles over the back of my hand. “I don’t just donate organs to anyone. Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you. Always have been.”

“What happened to hating me?” I raise an eyebrow, knowing now, he never hated me, just like I never really hated him, despite how much I wanted to.

“I hate how you’re the first thing I think about in a morning and the last thing at night. How you consume my every thought. But most of all, I hate how you keep putting yourself in danger for me when I should be the one taking care of you. My brave flower.” His fingers stroke the hair from my forehead.

I gulp down the jumble of words in my throat. So many things I want to say, but looking into his eyes, he knows them already. “You have taken care of me, Dan. All this time…” I remember what he said, about being the one to put Magnus in prison all those years ago. “You were taking care of me from the shadows. I don’t know how long I would’ve survived that life⁠—”

“Shhh.” His lips press to mine, silencing the sob about to escape. “You’re a warrior. You not only survived, but you raised our son alone. And if you’ll marry me, I’ll spend the rest of my life grovelling, with one exception.”

“What’s that?”

“You beg for my dick in the bedroom.” His lips quirk into that cheeky grin that I love.

“Please don’t make me laugh. I’m in pain.”

He brings my hand to his lips, peppering kisses down my arm. “I was ready to die for you, Rose.” He leans in, pressing his lips to my wrist, just above my pulse. “But living for you is all I want now.”

My chest tightens, my heart breaking open and mending itself in the same moment. I tug at his hand weakly, trying to bring him closer. “Kiss me,” I whisper.

His breath hitches, and even though pain flickers across his face, he leans in. His mouth meets mine—soft at first, careful, like he’s afraid I’ll break. But I press into him, tasting the exhaustion on his lips, the relief, the love that neither of us has words for.

He sighs against my mouth, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against mine. “As soon as you’re able to walk, you’ll be walking down the aisle so I can make you my wife.”

A small, breathless laugh escapes me. “Is that a proposal?”

He smirks, his fingers brushing my cheek. “No, Rose. It’s a fact, trust me.”

“What happened to Magnus?” I hold my breath, hating how the mere mention of his name makes Dan’s face contort.

“My cousin Riccardo is looking for him. He'll get what's coming to him. But you’re my priority.”

“I want to see him. I want my divorce.” I need to put my own ghosts to rest.

Dan studies me for a moment as if thinking about it. “When you're well. We can deal with him together.”

I nod and close my eyes, letting his warmth, his presence, and his love sink into me. I almost lost him. He almost lost me.

But we’re here. We survived.

I place my hand on his cheek, his beard longer than before. “I trust you, Dan.”

He exhales as if the weight of the world just fell from his shoulders. He turns his face slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to my palm. “Then let me prove to you every day that you can.”

I trace my fingers along his jaw, feeling the roughness of his beard, the warmth of his skin beneath my touch. “You already have.”

A breath shudders from him, and he leans in, brushing his lips against my temple. “You scared the hell out of me, Rose. You have to stop saving me.”

“I’ll stop saving you when you stop saving me.” My voice is barely a whisper, but he hears it.

His lips curve, his eyes softening. “That’ll be never then.” He shifts in the chair, wincing slightly as his hand returns to his abdomen.

I nod weakly, my body still exhausted, my heart still racing, but there’s no fear anymore. Only us. My chest clenches. "Lie with me," I say, tugging at his hand.

He shakes his head. "You're still healing, and I don’t want to hurt you."

"You won't."

His hesitation lasts only a second before he carefully manoeuvres onto the bed beside me. He keeps his arm loose around my waist, careful of my stitches, his warmth wrapping around me like a shield.

I press my face against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The sound anchors me, soothes the last of the fear lingering in my bones. “I’ve always loved you, Dan.”

“I know.” He strokes my hair, his fingers moving lazily. "Get some rest, fiore mio." His voice is thick with exhaustion. "I’ll be right here when you wake up."

And I believe him.

Because for the first time in a long time, I know with certainty, Dan isn’t going anywhere.

Neither am I.

We belong to each other, in this life and the next.

And no force in the world—no scars, no ghosts, no past—will ever separate us.

42

DAN

The sun slants through the living room window, casting golden light over the blanket draped around Rose’s shoulders. She sits propped against the cushions, her legs thrown over mine, a book in her lap, but her eyes aren’t on the pages. They’re on me.

“What’s that look for?”

“I was just reading and the main character was chewing gum. I haven’t seen you chew your strawberry gum for a long time. Or any gum, for that matter.”

“The strawberry reminded me of you. It always calmed me down.” I shrug a shoulder. “I suppose now I have you, I haven’t needed it.”

I stroke my thumb over the bare skin on her feet, reminding me of the massage I gave her in the hotel room. My plan is to give her plenty more of those and anything else she wants. I’ll never take her for granted. We may not quite be home yet, but I’m so fucking glad she’s out of hospital. After six weeks of recovery, she’s finally able to walk without aids. I look forward to the day I can get her back to the UK, but we still have unfinished business here, hanging over our heads like a bad smell.

An alarm goes off on my watch. I twist to the small table at the side of the sofa, a twinge tugging at my ribs like it does with any sudden movement, but it’s a fraction of what she’s been through. “Time for your meds.”

Her lips curve into a smile as I open her daily pill box.

“Your magic pill, fiore mio.” I hand her the pills one at a time.

“You mean the pill I have to take so I don’t reject you?”

A small laugh escapes. “Yes. That’s the one.”

She tips the pill into her mouth, chasing it down with water. "Bet you’ve been dying for years to have me this obedient."

I grin. "Took a bullet and a transplant, but hey, worth it."

She swats my hand with a giggle. “So romantic, really. You giving me drugs to make sure my body doesn’t reject you.”

"You say drugs. I say binding contract." I slide my hand along her thigh, slow and deliberate. "You were mine long before medicine caught up."

She gives me a mock glare. "Next, you’ll be microchipping me like a dog."

I grin against her temple. “Don’t tempt me. Could save me a lot of anxiety.”

Her hands smooth over the cotton t-shirt on my chest. “You’d just program it to shock me every time I argue with you.”

I laugh low and kiss the top of her head. “Don’t give me ideas. That sounds like it could be fun.”

She lifts a brow. "Next, you’ll be handing me a collar and lead."

I lean in, dropping my voice. "Only if you ask nicely." I dip my head, my lips brushing her ear, my voice a rumble against her skin. "Maybe we should write that in our wedding vows. Start with: Rose promises to take her meds and let Dan do whatever he wants…”

She shivers, pressing her thighs together as if she’s trying to contain the heat building between us. “Not sure I need a pill for that.”

I kiss a trail down her neck, whispering against her skin, “And in return, Dan promises to worship every inch of her… for life.” I slide my hand up her calf. “How are you feeling?”

“The same as I was five minutes ago—the last time you asked me. Only now I’m turned on.” She presses her lips to mine, slow and teasing, her brow arching with a look that says, wanna take this upstairs?

My blood heats, my body already answering for me as I search her face. "You sure you're feeling up to it?" Concern tightens my chest, even as my hands itch to climb between her thighs, even if its to pleasure her with my tongue like I did the night she came out of hospital, making her lie on the bed and not move.

She gives me a wicked grin, dragging her fingertips lazily down my chest.

"I'm a pillow princess, remember?" she teases. "You’re the one doing all the hard work. But if you need more time after your surgery…" She lets the sentence hang in the air, all fake sweetness and wide eyes.

I narrow my gaze, a slow, dangerous smile pulling at my lips. "Fiore mio," I murmur, my voice dropping low as I lean in, "the only thing you need to worry about is whether you can handle me."

Her laugh bubbles out, soft and sexy, as she hooks her fingers in the collar of my t-shirt, dragging me closer. “I was made to handle you. Now take me upstairs before Angelos comes in wanting to play FIFA.”

I deepen the kiss, fingers skimming under the hem of her t-shirt, ready to lose myself in her.

Shouts from the kitchen interrupt the moment. Dom and Elio discussing something and raising their voices.

I flick Rose a glance. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Lifting her feet from my lap, I gently place them on the sofa as I rise.

Rose lowers her legs to the floor. “I’m coming.” She’s still pale, but there’s fire in her veins, stubborn as ever, as she breathes through her nose, rising from the sofa.

I open the kitchen door to find Elio standing there in a tailored black suit, casual as you like. “What’s all the commotion?”

He lifts his phone in greeting instead of his hand. “Call it a leaving gift.”

Rose tugs a cardigan over her chest. “Leaving gift?”

“As much as I’ve loved having your boyfriend and his brother here, I want my house back and if this is what you’re hanging around for, then I’ll gladly move things along.”

A smile curves my lips. “And here I thought we were finally getting on.”

Elio sniggers. “Yeah, like a house on fire.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “They’re family, Elio. Get used to it.”

Elio taps the screen and turns it towards us.

The grainy video shows a container at the docks. Inside, Magnus is chained at the wrists and ankles, slumped against the rusting metal wall like a sack of rubbish. His face is swollen, lip split, suit jacket long gone, shirt filthy. He blinks blearily at the camera.

My jaw tightens. My fingers itch to reach through the screen and snap his miserable neck.

Dom moves closer, peering over my shoulder. “It’s another setup. We can’t trust this fucker.”

“I was working with Riccardo. He’ll confirm everything,” Elio says, voice smooth, almost too smooth. “Your cousin’s keeping him nice and cosy for us.”

“Us?” My brow furrows, wondering what he’s up to? It sounds like he’s finally cooperating, but there’s a part of me that’s still wary, knowing there’s a snake in the grass. “Since when did you work with a Bianchi?” My tone’s flat as the steel in my chest. “Why would you do this?”

Elio's jaw tightens. “You weren’t the only one losing sleep while she was in the hospital.” He hesitates, then runs a hand over his face. “I can’t undo the past, but I can make damn sure my nephew doesn’t grow up in fear of that bastard.” His gaze shifts to Rose, and for a fleeting second, there’s no cunning there, just raw human emotion. “You think I slept easy knowing you nearly died because of the choices I made?”

Dom replays the video and snorts. “Nice and cosy. Looks like shit.”

Elio shrugs, unapologetic. "Prison would've been kinder."

I don’t take my eyes off the video. Magnus shifts, tugging weakly at the chains, muttering something inaudible. “Why now, Elio?” I say low, my voice like gravel. “Why help us now, after you set me up?”

His jaw ticks. “Maybe I’m trying to make things right.”

Dom scoffs, folding his arms tighter. “Yeah? Forgive me if I don’t buy your redemption story.”

Elio’s eyes flash. “I don’t need your forgiveness, Dom. I don’t even expect hers.” He flicks a glance at Rose. “But I owe her a fresh start. We can finish this together.” Elio's eyes flick back to me. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did?” His voice is tight. “For being my uncle’s puppet after you murdered my…?” He shakes his head. “The man I thought was my father.” His voice cracks as he looks at Rose. “For trusting Magnus to take care of my sister?” He runs a hand over his face. “If I’d have known what he was doing to you—” He shakes his head, eyes darkening. “I’d have killed him myself all those years ago.”

I narrow my eyes, studying him. His suit might be sharp, his words even sharper, but trust? Trust is blunt and broken between us. “It was only six weeks ago you set me up with this man. I don’t trust you not to set me up again,” I say flatly. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take you at your word.” I shift my weight. A twinge in my side is a sharp reminder I’m not as indestructible as I used to be.

Elio notices. His eyes flick to the way my hand presses instinctively to my abdomen over the part of me that now keeps Rose alive.

"If I wanted you dead, Bianchi," Elio says, quieter this time, "I’d have killed you already." His gaze hardens with something like respect or guilt. “But you’re here. Still standing. Still protecting her.” He flicks his head to Rose. “And for that, you have my respect. Besides, Mamma would never forgive me if I killed you.” He lets out a small chuckle. “Can you imagine the earache I’d get?”

Rose places a hand on her brother’s arm, as if showing him she trusts him. “Thank you, Elio.”

His hand covers hers. “I would have finished him myself. But I know you wanted to look him in the eye.” He pulls a gun from the holster on his back and hands it to her.

Her fingers curl around the grip, trembling for half a heartbeat before she tightens them, steady as steel.

My spine bristles. I step closer to her as she holds the gun, as if weighing it in her hand.

“Maybe now is a good time to give you those shooting lessons?” Elio says.

My eyes narrow. “She doesn’t need to know how to handle a weapon. I’ll take care of Magnus.” There’s no way in hell Rose is putting herself at risk.

Dom pats me on the shoulder. “With all due respect, brother, it wasn’t so long ago you needed help taking a piss. If anyone’s going to take care of the bastard, it’s me.”

Rose’s breath trembles faintly, just once, but she steadies the gun, squaring her shoulders like she’s ready to carry the weight of this whole family if she has to. I see the fire behind her eyes, the steel beneath the softness. She’s stronger than any of us.

“If anyone is going to finish him, it’s me. I want to see him.” Her eyes close as she takes in a deep breath. “I need to see him.” When she opens her eyes, they land on me. “You promised me, Dan.”

The thought of her facing Magnus, weak as she still is, twists something savage in my chest. I already gave a piece of my liver to save her. Losing her again? I wouldn’t survive it.

My chest caves. I remember I would have promised her anything when she was lying in that hospital bed. But now I’m not sure I can risk her in harm’s way. “It’s too much of a risk. You’re not fully recovered.”

Rose caresses my brow as if she can iron out the wrinkles there. “Neither are you.”

“I don’t like this, Rose. I won’t put you at risk.”

Dom shifts beside me, voice rough. “You’re barely six weeks post-surgery, Rose. This is not your fight.”

Rose lifts her chin. “This is my fight,” she cuts him off, steady. “It’s always been mine.” She turns back to Dan. “I trust my brother. If I can learn to trust you, Dan, maybe you can learn to trust him.” Her voice is quiet but strong. “You’d better not be lying to us, Elio. Because if you are…” She lifts her chin, regal and fierce like her mother’s, despite her frailty. “You’ll answer to me.”

A flicker of guilt flashes across Elio’s face. Maybe even respect. He dips his head once, solemn. "This is my way of earning back what little honour I have left," Elio says. "And maybe giving us all a clean start."

Dom scratches his jaw, unimpressed. "We’ll see about that."

But I watch Elio, study him the way I used to study men through a sniper scope. And this time? I see no deception. Just a man trying, maybe too late, to do one thing right.

Elio’s expression hardens, like steel tempered in fire. “You think I’d bring this to you if I wanted you dead? I’d have let Magnus finish the job. Believe it or not, D’Angelo, but since I found out how he treated my sister, I want that fucker dead just as much as you do. He disrespected my sister.”

My hand tightens around Rose’s. “Then let’s finish this, together.”

43

ROSE

Dan holds my hand in the back seat as Elio drives us to the docks at Civitavecchia

His fingers are warm against my cold palms. “We can turn around if you change your mind. Or Elio can drop Dom and me off and then take you home. There’s no need for you to be here.”

I clutch the brown envelope to my chest, a chill racing down my spine. “There’s every reason for me to be here. I want these papers signed.”

Dan’s jaw clenches and his eyes zero in on the back of Elio's head. I know what he’s thinking. He blames Elio for the deal I made fourteen years ago. If I close my eyes, it’s as if no time has passed at all. I can still smell the smoke from my uncle’s cigar curl around me like an invisible leash he held around all of us. Overpowering, just like my father…

With a positive pregnancy test in my pocket and fresh tears cascading down my face, I tiptoe down the hall searching for Mamma, but pause outside the office when I hear my uncle speak about Dan.

“D’Angelo Bianchi è l'angelo della morte.”

I cover my mouth with my hand. The angel of death is Dan, his real name isn’t Daniel. It’s D’Angelo.

More voices carry through the gap in the door. “We’ll find him and when we do, we’ll make sure he suffers in the worst way.”

I clutch my stomach. It’s been three weeks since Dan disappeared. Three weeks of hell. Three weeks of waiting for him to come back and explain. Three weeks of crying into my pillow. I wipe away my tears. I need to be strong. Our unborn child needs my protection. They can never know it’s Dan’s. My heart races, wondering how I can keep this a secret.

“The Bianchi boys are both back on tour in the British army. They think they’re untouchable, but I have a plan.”

I burst into the room. The word, “No,” escapes from my lips with a strangled sob. “Please don’t hurt him or his brother. I’m begging you.”

My uncle snarls. “Your loyalty to this assassino makes me sick.” The back of his hand hits me across the face and I’m knocked sideways, stumbling to the floor. “What about the loyalty to your father? To this family?”

I rub the sting in my cheek and my brother helps me up with a frown, disappointment written in every crease of his brow.

Looking around the room at our security staff, they all pity me. I’m the silly girl who got swept away on a romantic notion that maybe someone actually loved me.

My brother’s right. I’m pathetic. Nobody would ever look twice at me. But I have to stop this insanity. If I don’t, how can I look my child in the eye, knowing I didn’t try to save their father, even if he is a liar who’s abandoned me to the wolves. I shake my head, refusing to believe that. He’ll be back. I know it. I just need to bide some time for the both of us.

“Send me away if you want. Punish me instead. I’ll do anything.”

My uncle rubs at his jaw, an evil smirk on his face. “Elio, what was it you were saying about your friend in London? The Berlusconis who run the East End.”

Elio swipes a tear from my face, confusion pinching his brow. “Magnus?”

“Yes, that’s him. Call him… I have a business deal he might be interested in.”

Dan’s knuckles graze my cheek and I flinch, coming back to the present with a jolt. “Hey. You all right. You glazed over for a minute there.” He surveys me, full of concern. “Elio, turn the car around.”

“No. I’m fine. Elio, don’t you dare turn this car around.” A long shaky breath escapes my lips. “I was just thinking about the past, that’s all.” I place my hand on Dan’s leg, the cotton of his black trousers soft beneath my fingertips.

His features soften, and he leans over and kisses my temple. “What were you thinking about?”

“Just how the deal I made to marry was for nothing. My uncle never kept his word. I’m sure your helicopter accident was of his doing. He was never going to let it go.”

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s all in the past.” Dan smoothes a hand over his black tie. His whole attire black, as if he’s dressed for a funeral, meanwhile I’m in white. Today symbolises a day of freedom for me. Magnus’s presence has loomed over us like a dark cloud for far too long.

Lights flicker on the dark road. The moon gives off a red haze. A mist hovers over the docks like a blanket, almost suffocating.

Dan squeezes my hand, but I’m not afraid anymore. The worst thing Magnus could do to me now was poison my son against me and he already tried that. Everything is now out in the open and the truth has set me free.

I was surprised to learn that Mamma had some secrets of her own. I’m not sure if Elio will ever accept them as family, but at least he can respect Dan for saving my life. And at least he isn’t shackled with the family loyalty of my father and uncle.

The car comes to a halt and Elio kills the engine. Dom climbs out of the car and walks over to a man in a black suit, shaking his hand and pulling him in for a warmer welcome as he pats him on the back.

“That’s our second cousin, Riccardo,” Dan says.

Dan steps out first, scanning the area like he’s expecting an ambush. He always does. I wait for him to come around and open my door, my fingers tightening on the envelope in my lap. Divorce papers. Freedom, at last.

When the door swings open, Dan holds his hand out to me. I take it, feeling the calluses against my palm, grounding me.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, low and rough.

I nod once. “I’m sure.”

As I step out, the wind whips off the water, carrying the sharp tang of salt.

Container units are stacked like tombstones around us, Riccardo directs Dan and Dom to a rust-red one tucked at the far end of the dockyard. Riccardo’s face is like granite, probably carved from years of blood deals and backroom wars.

“He’s in there,” Riccardo says, jerking his chin towards the container. "Hasn’t stopped begging since we locked him up."

Dom flicks away the stub of his cigarette and cracks his knuckles. "That’ll make it even sweeter."

Dan casts a look over his shoulder at me, protective even now, as if worried I’ll crumble. But I don’t. I hold my head high and take the first step towards the container.

Riccardo pulls the doors wide.

The stench hits me first. A mix of sweat and stale urine. The scent of desperation. My stomach tightens, but I don’t flinch.

Magnus cowers in the corner, shackled at the ankles like the animal he is. His suit is stained, hair lank and clinging to his damp forehead. Once, he stood tall in this underworld. Now, he’s nothing but a trapped rat.

His eyes find me and he rises to his feet as if he still has the upper hand with me. “Rosetta.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, slow and taunting, like he’s scolding a naughty child.

I step into the container, Dan’s hand at my lower back, his presence like a shield behind me.

Magnus’s gaze flickers to the gun in my hand, then to the envelope clutched in my other. He pales.

“Sign them.” My voice doesn’t tremble. It slices through the air like a knife slicing through butter.

His lips curl into a sinister snarl. “You think this is going to make you free of me? You’re mine, Rose. You even have the marks on your back to prove it.”

Dan steps in front of me with a gun in hand, his arm trembling as he fights his muscles not to pull the trigger. “She was never yours. You’re delusional if you think she ever belonged to you.” Dan pushes him against the wall, his gun under Magnus’s chin. “How does it feel knowing that whenever you fucked my girl, it was me she was thinking about? It was me she dreamed about when you were lying next to her, and it’s my blood that runs in her son’s veins.”

He snarls. “How does it feel, Bianchi, to fuck your prize pig and see my marks on her back?” His tongue clicks once, sharp and deliberate, punctuating his sick words. But that’s all they are to me now, just words. “Every time you fuck her, you’ll think of me.”

Dan lets out a half laugh as if he knows something Magnus doesn’t. “Let’s get this over with, shall we? I don’t want to be in this container longer than I have to. You fucking stink.” He shoves him onto the floor.

I take a few steps to stand at his side, holding my gun trained on Magnus’s forehead, just like my brother showed me. I throw the envelope down in front of him, the divorce papers spilling across the grimy floor.

Riccardo kicks a pen towards him.

“If I sign, what’s in it for me?” Magnus snarls, though his voice cracks.

“Sign,” Dan growls, lifting his gun a fraction.

Magnus clicks his tongue, feigning disappointment, like we’re the ones letting him down. He snatches the pen in shaking fingers and scrawls his name, like a man signing away his last breath.

I scoop up the papers, folding them neatly. I don’t let my hands shake. Not in front of him.

Elio steps into the container, head low, his hands in his pockets as if he’s taking pity on his old friend.

Magnus spits. “You traitor. You working with them now? Since when did you side with a fucking Bianchi?”

“Since I saw what you did to my sister. You piece of fucking shit.”

He laughs. “We made a deal. You gave her to me to do as I please.”

“She was still my sister, and you disrespected her and me.” Elio raises a gun. “I should kill you myself. I’m well aware of your midnight dock activities with the Messinas. If anyone’s a traitor around here, it’s you.”

“If anyone is going to kill him, it’s me,” I say, holding the gun steady in my hand. I cock my head, taking in the weak man before me who looks nothing like the powerful man he once was. The man who could command the full casino he ran as soon as he stepped foot in the door. A man I at least respected before I married him and realised what a monster he was on our wedding night. I swallow the bile threatening to spill out of my mouth as memories flash through my head.

“You’re not worth the bullet,” I say coldly. “It’d be a waste.” For the first time, I see him for what he really is: small, pitiful, powerless. He never owned me. He never will.

I turn my back on him and on the past, on every scar he left on my body and my soul, and step out of the container into the clean night air, taking a deep breath and filling my lungs with the salty sea breeze.

Magnus laughs, thin and broken. “She spares me!” he shouts after me, as if that grants him some dignity.

But as I turn back around, Dan steps forward, casual, like death itself in a suit. He lifts the can of petrol Riccardo hands him and pours it over Magnus’s head, soaking his trembling frame.

Magnus’s bravado crumbles instantly. “No. No, stop. Please. Don’t do this. I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again.” Magnus crawls backward, but Riccardo and Elio block his escape, guns raised, cold and remorseless.

Dom lights a cigarette in the corner, watching like a man enjoying the final scene of a play.

“You think you get to walk away?” Dan’s voice is gravel and flame. “She may be able to show you mercy…” He drops the empty can to the floor. “But I’ll never forgive you for what you did to her.”

Magnus pisses himself, terror pooling at his feet.

Dom plucks the cigarette from his lips, flicks it into the container.

The fire catches fast, roaring up Magnus’s legs as he screams—a sound that doesn’t touch me. Most people would flinch. Gag at the stench of burning flesh, or turn away as his skin peels. But I don’t. I just watch, unmoved. Like Dom.

As the flames take Magnus, I don't see a man burning. I see my past torment; I see my present fear. And I see my future freedom. A freedom I’ve spent years fighting for. Through the smoke, I breathe easily for the first time in years. He tried to break me, but watching him burn, I’ll never be afraid of shadows again. And from the ashes, we’ll build a fresh start.

I watch the flames rise higher through the gap of the container doors as Riccardo and Elio walk out of them, followed by Dan, a dark silhouette with fire behind him like wings on a phoenix.

The men stand around as if watching a bonfire on Guy Fawkes night, but Dan comes to me, his eyes still dark with vengeance, flames still roaring behind him, giving him an orange aura like an angel. My angel.

His eyes soften when they meet mine under the veil of night. He threads his fingers through mine and leads me back to the car.

As we climb in, I let out a breath I feel like I’ve been holding for over thirteen years. “You really are the angel of death,” I murmur, as the glow of fire reflects in the rearview mirror.

Dan gives me a slow, dangerous grin. “I prefer Mr. Inferno.”

I can’t help but match his smile, despite the scent of death and burning flesh carrying on the breeze. For the first time in my life, I’m finally free. “I thought you were going to let me handle things?”

“You didn’t really think I’d let him live, did you?” His jaw tightens. “His fate was sealed the moment he laid a hand on you. I just wish I’d known sooner. When I was watching from a distance, you always seemed so happy when you were married to him.”

“I learned to put on a mask. I pretended to have the perfect marriage for our son.”

He swipes a blonde strand of hair from my cheek, the brunette roots now overtaking the cheap blonde dye I once hid behind. “You’ll never have to pretend again. We will have the perfect marriage if you’ll have me.”

“You know I will.” I lean over to kiss him, his lips warm and tender, just like our first kiss. “I’ve always been yours, D’Angelo.”

“Not every love story ends in ashes, fiore mio. Ours begins there.” He cups my face in his rough palms and presses his lips to mine. “And God help anyone who tries to take it from us. I’ll burn the whole world to the ground if I have to.”

I believe him too. There’s nothing this man wouldn’t do for me.

Dom and Elio leave Riccardo and his men to deal with the container and climb into the front seat. Elio drives us away from the flames, away from the past, and into the life we fought for, bled for, and nearly died for.

As the fire fades in the mirror, a new dawn creeps over the horizon.

We don’t look back. The past burns behind us, but the future blazes ahead.

EPILOGUE

DAN

Sunlight filters through the branches of the Italian stone pines, the warmth of the sun’s rays stroking my skin.

I lean back against the tree, watching Dom dribble the ball across the grass, Angelos darting after him with a grin stretched across his face. He’s still a little pale, thinner than he should be after the past six weeks of hell, but he’s happy.

Rose lies on the blanket, her head resting on my thigh as she gazes up at me. She’s bundled in a pink cardigan over her dress, her skin still carrying a yellow hue from recovery, but colour is returning to her cheeks. Every so often, she closes her eyes and tilts her face to the sun, soaking it in as if she’s tasting freedom for the first time.

I could watch her do that forever.

Dom launches the ball again and pretends to miss Angelos' return kick on purpose, sprawling dramatically on the grass. He’s been back and forth between here and the UK, tracking Magnus, along with Riccardo and even Elio. Who’d have thought Magnus would be the one to bring our two families together?

“Uncle Dom plays like an old man!” Angelos shouts, hands on his hips.

Dom props himself up on his elbows and shouts back, “Old man, eh? Watch your mouth or I’ll trip you up with one of my geriatric moves.”

“You’re not fast enough!” Angelos fires back.

I chuckle under my breath, warmth filling my chest.

“Dom’s letting him win,” Rose says quietly on my lap.

“Yeah. He thinks he’s being subtle.” My fingers play with her hair; more brunette’s grown through now, reminding me of the woman I fell in love with all those years ago. I curl a lock around my finger. The blonde from the woman I fell in love with all over again.

She smiles at me, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no fear in her eyes. It’s just her. My fiore mio.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it, playing with Rose’s hair.

“You not getting that?” she asks with a furrowed brow. “It could be important.”

“It’s not.” My fingers trace the lines on her brow. “There’s nothing more important than this moment with you and my family. And nothing is going to interrupt our day.”

She reaches a hand to my face and I kiss her palm. “You know, at some point, you’re going to have to tell me what you actually do for a living.”

I chuckle to myself, my chest shaking. “Don’t act innocent. I know you went snooping for my ID.”

Her lips press together in a thin line as if suppressing a smile. “That ID didn’t make any sense.” A small crease forms between her eyebrows and I kiss her there.

Angelos kicks the ball too hard, and it bounces onto the picnic blanket.

I catch it and grin. “Isn’t it obvious? I work in intelligence.”

Dom snorts, snatching the ball from me. “Yeah, the undercover kind—'cause no one’s ever actually seen your intelligence.”

Rose's mouth twitches like she's trying to be polite, but she bursts out laughing anyway. She tilts her head at me. “So what, you’re like James Bond?”

Dom chuckles. “More like Bullshit Bond.”

Rose laughs more. “I can agree with that.”

I shoot Dom a warning glare that only makes him smirk wider. “Agent Inferno, if you please.” I give Rose my best come-fuck-me eyes. “Licence to smoulder.”

Dom dribbles the ball. “He’s good at keeping secrets, though. Like how he still can't beat me at FIFA.”

“Nor me,” Angelos shouts.

Rose smiles, her fingers caressing mine. “Well, Agent Inferno, don’t you have to get back to saving the world at some point?”

I lean in, brushing my nose against hers. “That’s what I’ve been doing. You and Angelos are my world.”

Her lips part as she sucks in a breath.

I press my mouth to hers and suck it right back out. “The rest of the world can burn for all I care, but I do have to get back to work soon. I have a wedding to pay for.”

Dom shouts, “You paying for my wedding? Thanks, bro. Appreciate it.”

I can’t stop smiling as I gaze down at Rose. “You can pay for your own wedding, brother. Riccardo already offered you the villa at Lake Como for your honeymoon. I’ll buy you an ice cream instead.” I jerk my thumb towards the gelato stand nearby. “Fancy a gelato?”

“Do you even need to ask?” she says, a mock in her voice. “What are you having, pistachio?”

A grin tugs at my lips. “You know me so well.”

“Predictable,” she teases.

I help Rose to a sitting position, her abdomen still giving her slight discomfort. Her strength not yet fully returned, but she’s here and I’ll never take anything for granted again.

I rise from the ground and tap Angelos on the shoulder as I pass. “Ice cream?”

He lights up. “Yes, please!”

“Dom?”

“Double chocolate,” Dom calls, flopping onto the blanket beside Rose, already looking beat from the run around. “I’ve earned it.”

I leave them behind and queue at the stand with Angelos, my hand resting on his shoulder as he studies the menu. “What’ll it be, son?” I’ll never get bored of saying that word. Son. My fucking amazing son who’s been a champion these last few weeks helping his mother.

“Can I have the green one, please?” He licks his lips as if he can already taste it.

I pull my brows together. “Mint?”

“No, that one.” He points to the sign. “Pistachio.”

“You like pistachio?”

“Yeah, it’s my favourite.”

A laugh bursts from my lips.

“What’s funny?”

“Because that’s my favourite too.”

As I pass Angelos his gelato, he looks at me with a smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

The word never fails to hit me right in the gut. He calls me Dad so easily now, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it finally is.

Before I can say anything, he’s running back to Rose and Dom.

Dom waves, letting me know he has eyes on him, and I pay for the gelato. Even with Magnus gone, I can’t relax where my family’s concerned. Rose says that’s just being a parent. Maybe it is and I wonder if it’ll get easier as he gets older.

Walking back to the picnic blanket, I smile as I think about still looking out for the kid when he’s forty. I hand everyone their cones, a smile still playing on my lips. “You never said our son was a pistachio guy.”

Rose raises an eyebrow at my pistachio. “What can I say? He’s like his father.” She licks at her strawberry cream. “Nutty.”

Angelos looks between us, completely unimpressed. “Grown-ups are weird.”

“Correction,” Dom says, tucking into his double chocolate. “They’re weird. I’m cool.”

“Bruh, nobody says cool anymore,” Angelos shoots back.

Rose laughs softly, and the sound is a balm to every wound I’ve ever had.

As she savours her scoop, I lean closer to her ear. “What kind of ice cream guy do you think Dom is, then?”

She pretends to ponder, tapping her chin dramatically. “Hmm. Hazelnut. Smooth. A little nutty, but dependable.”

Dom splutters on his cone. “I’ll take smooth.”

I nudge her knee with mine. “And me? Pistachio still?”

Her gaze softens, her thumb brushing along my wrist where it rests on my knee.

“No,” she says, quiet and sure. “You’re more than that now.”

I raise a brow. “Yeah?”

She leans in, her lips ghosting the shell of my ear.

“You’re the whole flippin’ sundae.”

My breath catches in my chest. I press a kiss to her cheek. I want to bottle this moment. I want to anchor us here and never move. This is what freedom tastes like. Sweet as gelato, warm as the sun on my face.

She sighs against me, so soft I almost miss it. "You know… I don't need to fly anymore. I only ever loved it because it made me feel free."

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my voice low. "And now?"

She smiles up at me, eyes shimmering. "I feel free with you."

My chest cracks wide open as I smile down at Rose, like a bird who’s found her wings. My little bird, my flower. “You don’t need to work anymore. I’ll support you, but whatever happened to your dream of teaching?”

She traces idle circles on my wrist. "I never got my degree, with everything that happened.”

I hook my finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to mine. "If you want to go back to school, I’ll support you. Whatever you need."

Her smile wobbles, a little broken, a lot beautiful. "I just need you."

I kiss her, slow and deep, a vow in every breath.

Dom and Angelos start arguing over football stats again, Dom trying to educate him about United, but I don’t care. I have everything I need right here.

I’ve come to accept there’ll be many more City games in my future. With a silent chuckle, I let them work it out, my son giving Dom all the stats while I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the book I bought for Rose. “I got you something.”

“Let me guess. A rose?”

“Not today. I got you a new book.”

Her face lights up as I hand it to her.

“No more Romeo and Juliet. That’s not our story anymore, fiore mio.”

She peels the brown wrapping, running her fingers over the cover. A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

She tilts her head, eyes bright with curiosity. “What’s this?”

“A new story for us,” I say simply. “Less tragedy. More magic.”

Her smile could start a war and end one all at once. “I like the sound of that.”

The sun dips lower in the sky, casting the park in amber light. Angelos jumps up and runs across the grass now he’s finished his ice cream.

Dom crunches the last of his cone. “Doesn’t this kid ever let up?” He rises to his feet, ready to tackle him for the ball.

I wrap my arm around Rose’s shoulders and pull her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Will you read some of it to me?”

“Always.” I flip open the book and clear my throat. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

Rose smiles, a sleepy, content smile. “Blind indeed,” she murmurs.

I kiss her hair, keeping my voice low and steady. “The course of true love never did run smooth.”

“But we made it,” she says, her voice full of quiet certainty. “You made our happy ever after happen, Dan, just like you promised you would.”

Love blooms in my chest where hope once flickered. We do have our happy ever after, even if it was a long road forged in blood and fire, we made it. We fucking made it, and no secrets, no man, no bullet, nothing will ever come between us again. Because this love was never meant for tragedy.

We were never Romeo and Juliet.

We were always the dream.

And this is where our story truly begins.

Want more Dan & Rose?

Look out for a bonus epilogue available on my website

https://anniecharme.com/bonus-content/

After this, I haven’t decided whose story to tell and whether to end the series at four books and create a spin off series or carry on. If you have a preference on who’s story you would like, please let me know, either in my Facebook group, Annie Charme’s Reader Group Or email me author@anniecharme.com In the meantime, if you haven’t read the other books in the Sinful Secrets Series, get them here…

Dom and Poppy’s story Protecting Poppy

Look out for Protecting Poppy audio coming soon with Shane East as Dom.

Kane & Violet’s story Taming Violet

Shane & Lilly’s story Pursuing Lilly

Also find all the characters in

Snowed in with the Dad Bod

A novella part of the same world

For character art and signed books, you can subscribe via my website.

www.anniecharme.com

If you enjoyed Uncovering Rose, below are the links if you wish to review. Thank you again for all your support.

Amazon

BookBub

If you share on social media, tag me, I love sharing readers posts.

Thanks for reading!

Annie

If you like mafia romance, check out Dan’s cousin Matteo’s book, The Hunter by LM Fox.

Get it here https://geni.us/TheHunterPL

LM Fox has a series called The Bianchi Brothers (Dan and Dom’s American cousins).

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you for reading Dan & Rose’s story. It’s been two years since we first met Dan in Protecting Poppy and I’ve been wanting to sit down and write his book ever since.

This story was one I had plotted before I wrote Dom and Poppy and as I was writing their book, it became clear that this character was Dom’s brother.

People keep asking me if that’s the series complete. I honestly don’t know. I have several spin off ideas with various side characters so if you’d like to see anyone from the series get a book, let me know.

I have a friend who was a flight attendant who inspired Rose’s character, Natasha I finally got around to finishing this book.

Thank you to all my readers. I appreciate every single one of you for reading and supporting my work. You give me the motivation to keep going and keep writing my stories.

Special thanks to Lisa Adams, Sandra Aranda, Helena Eseloma, Nikki Lowther, Diana Balder, and Sara Reyes.

Thank you to my team and all my arc readers who send me messages that brighten my day. All your posts, shares and chat in general encourages me to keep working hard. With your help in spreading the word about my books, hopefully, I’ll get to take a trip overseas to meet you all in person.

Thanks to my family and friends, thank you for all your support. I wouldn’t be able to do the things I love if it wasn’t for my family’s support

Thank you to all my author friends who have helped me with this book. JL Reed, you always make me laugh when I read your comments on my manuscript (check out JL Reed’s Mafia book, Knights Game). N. Dune, thank you for your comments and helping me to make this story better. (Check out N. Dune’s romantic suspense series, Beyond The Tide). JA Belfield, thank you. (Check out JA Belfield’s book, The Therapist)

Special thanks to Layla LM Fox who collaborated on this with Dan’s cousin Matteo (Layla’s character in the Hunter). Check out Layla’s Mafia series, start with Luca.

And last but not least, thank you Gianni, not only did you make my cover look absolutely hot AF but you helped me with the Italian words and phrases in this book. You are a lovely soul. Everyone go and give Gianni a follow on his IG or TikTok accounts @justgianni_official

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Annie Charme lives in the heart of England with her husband, two children and a randy dog.

She is a graphic artist by day and author by night.

When she isn't working, you will find her enjoying time with her family in the English countryside or curled up on the sofa with a coffee, blanket, dog and a steamy book.

Being an avid reader of romance novels, Annie feels that the larger woman is not represented enough, and books about plus size women are very few and far between. This is something that sparked her passion for writing.

www.anniecharme.com

ALSO BY ANNIE CHARME

The Sinful Secrets Series

Each book is a standalone but part of a shared world

Protecting Poppy

Dom & Poppy’s story

Taming Violet

Kane & Violet’s story

Pursuing Lilly

Shane & Lilly’s story

Uncovering Rose

Dan & Rose’s story

Snowed in with the Dad Bod

A novella part of the same world

The Temptation Series

Forever Young

A Prequel, The Temptation Series

Forever Yours

Book 1 of The Temptation Series

Forever Mine

Book 2 of The Temptation Series

Man of the Month Club Spicy RomCom

Hate Tea Love You

Friends to lovers, second chance, reverse grumpy sunshine

Tease The Season

Brother’s best friend, age gap, Christmas in July

Kiss & Shell

Opposites attract, billionaire, enemies to lovers

Kissmas Reunion

Midlife second chance, divorced couple

Single Dad Hottie

Reverse age gap, fireman

Spicy RomCom

When My Ship Comes In

A Naughty Nautical Romance

Unwrapped For You

A Curves For Christmas Novella

Twisted Santa

A Sweet but Twisted Novella