Vale fists my soaking wet shirt and meets my gaze. “Is he dead?”
“You killed him, baby. I don’t know how, but you killed him.”
Her features contort. “I hit him with a rock,” she whimpers. “I smashed it into his face.”
I squeeze her tighter as guilt rages through me. It should have been me. “You did what you had to do.”
She sniffs and wipes her hand under her nose. “He didn’t think I could do it. Put my own life on the line to be free of him.”
“You didn’t do it just to be free. You saved Mari.” My heartbeat finds an irregular rhythm. “I’ll never forget that, Vale.”
When we make it inside the house, my sister is waiting for us in the living room. She jumps off the couch and runs up to us, her eyes widening when she takes in our dripping clothes. “Oh thank God! Are you okay?”
I lower Vale to her feet and watch as they embrace. Seeing them together makes something shift inside my chest.
Vale smooths her hand over Martina’s hair and kisses her temple. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
My sister’s grip on her tightens. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault. What happened?”
Vale sucks in a breath. “I hit him with a rock I found. When I thought he was about to die, I dove into the water. The boat exploded above me.”
She killed him with a fucking rock. Her gaze finds mine, and I see the horror of those few moments reflected within. She didn’t want to hurt people anymore, but she had to do it.
I swear to God, it’s the last time she’ll ever have to do anything like that again.
We leave Mari and go upstairs to change. When Vale moves toward the shower in my room, I fight down the urge to follow her. I want to give her space, but she looks over her shoulder and beckons me forward. We strip out of our clothes and step into the shower.
When she turns on the water, I can’t hold it in anymore. I have so much to say to her.
“I fucked up,” I rasp. “I promised you I’d keep you safe, and I didn’t.”
She picks up the soap and runs it over my chest.
“I should have been totally focused on protecting you, but instead, half of my mind was on Sal and how I was going to bring him down. I failed you.” I take the soap out of her hand and bring her fingertips to my lips. “But I’ll never fail you again. Be with me. Give me another chance to show you how good we can be together.”
She sighs. “I don’t want to be your kept woman. My entire life I’ve been a little dinghy tossed around by waves created by far larger ships. It’s time I set my own course.”
I nudge her chin up. “I don’t want a kept woman. I want a partner. An equal by my side. That’s you. If I’m about to become a king, you will be my queen.”
She blinks at me, and I can see she’s not convinced yet. “Dons don’t have partners.”
“Maybe your father doesn’t, but I’m not him, and the Casalesi have a strong tradition of putting women in powerful roles. You can do whatever you want. Choose a part of the empire to govern.”
Some color returns to her cheeks. “I know how mafias work well enough to know you can’t just bring a stranger into a clan and give her all this power.”
I give her a soft smile. “A stranger, no. But I can give it to my wife.”
Her mouth parts. “Are you proposing to me?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve known each other for barely a month.”
“My father proposed to my mother on their second date. They loved each other more than anyone I’ve ever known. It may have only been a month, but there isn’t a sliver of doubt inside of me. You’re the only woman I’ll ever want. I love you, Vale.”
Her eyelashes flutter, and she drops her gaze to my chest. “I need to think.”
“Of course.” I don’t expect a response from her right now. She’s been through a lot. But every day, I’ll work on convincing her to be mine.
I spend the next few days in Damiano’s bed nursing my countless bruises and shallow cuts. Martina brings me all my meals, Ras checks in at least once a day, and Damiano leaves my side for an hour at most. I sense he hates when he has to do it.
Despite my rough physical condition, I feel good. Light even. Lazaro won’t ever find me again. The hold he had on me ever since he put that ring on my finger is gone.
Technically, I’m a widow, but I’ll never think of myself as such. Lazaro will have no place in my history.
For so long, I thought he damaged me beyond repair, but now I’m not as pessimistic. By saving Martina, I think I may have saved myself. I don’t feel like such an awful person anymore. When I look back on the woman I was, the one who tortured and killed those people, I see a broken soul trying her best to survive. It was the best I could do after being betrayed by those I trusted most. My parents. They put me into a horrific situation with no way out.
I’d never do that to my own kids.
My father was upset when Damiano told him about Lazaro. I was in the room while they talked, although my father didn’t know I was there. He said it had to be done, but that he’d lost one of his best men.
When Damiano told him I was the one who killed Lazaro, he was silent. I don’t think I’ll ever get an apology out of him, but I don’t need one. I’ve forgiven myself. I’ll never forgive him.
On the other side of the enormous bedroom window is the sea. I climb out of bed and step out onto the balcony.
I’ve come here often over the last few days to stare at the glittering water and think about what Damiano said to me when we returned to the house the night Lazaro died.
He wants me to stay here. To marry me and make me his queen. He said he loved me, but I didn’t say it back. The memory sends a rush of warmth through me, but it’s chased away by a breeze. I place my forearms on the railing and exhale a breath.
I woke up before him this morning-a rarity-and I studied his body and the contours of his face. He’s so handsome that sometimes it hurts to look at him. He has a little birthmark just above his right hip, and when I pressed my lips to it this morning, he stirred awake and made a sound I’ll never forget. A happy sigh, mixed with a sleepy moan. I wanted to box that sound up and hide it away. A piece of him only I would get to keep.
I thought he’d pressure me to make a decision, but he hasn’t brought it up again. He comes and keeps me company. We watch movies, share meals, and talk about his day. More often, we have lengthy make-out sessions that leave me feeling hazy with arousal. He insists he won’t do anything else with me until I’m back to one hundred percent. When I ask him questions about Sal or anything clan related, he gives me honest answers without holding anything back.
All of this plants ideas inside my head, which I’m sure is his intention. He’s showing me what it could be like if I say yes. And honestly? He’s starting to win me over.
It’s all crazy. I’ve only just escaped a toxic marriage to a made man, and now I’m seriously considering saying yes to another.
But Damiano isn’t Lazaro, and I’m no longer compelled to act on anyone’s wishes but my own. If I agree to do this, it will be my choice. It will be a marriage of equals. There won’t be any secrets or lies or wool pulled over my eyes.
When the door creaks open, I know it’s him. The sound of his leather shoes on the hard wood floor is familiar by now. He steps onto the balcony and places a warm hand on the small of my back.
I turn to him. There are subtle changes to his face. The hard lines I remember so clearly that first night we met have softened. His eyes are no longer so dark. His lips quirk with a hint of a smile, and a hoard of butterflies comes alive inside my gut.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks in his deep voice.
I smile. “You.”
His brow furrows, and he flicks his gaze away, seeming nervous for what must be the first time. “Should I be worried?”