Page 119 of Beneath the Shadows

“No,” she says, shaking her head slowly.

I stare at her, at this woman who’s been through more than I can imagine, and all I want to do is erase the years of pain and neglect. When we were younger, I thought I’d be her first for everything—her first love, her first kiss, her first in every way that mattered. That was stolen from me. Stolen from us.

But tonight, I get to be her first for this. Something pure.

I swallow the bitterness that rises in my throat. “Then I’m glad I get to be the first,” I say softly, brushing my thumb over her cheek. I hold her gaze, my voice lowering. “And even though I missed so many of your firsts, I promise I’ll be your last.”

Her eyes widen slightly at my words, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she watches me, something unreadable stirring in her expression. I pull out her chair, motioning for her to sit. When she does, there’s a soft, genuine smile on her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. She glances at the table and then back at me. “For all this. It’s perfect.”

I brush my thumb over her cheek again, letting the moment hang between us. “I plan on making you feel special every chance I get.”

She laughs, the sound light, and I can’t help but grin in response. "You're going to spoil me."

"That's my plan."

Dinner isn’t extravagant—just pasta, bread, a salad. By the way she savors every bite, you’d think I prepared a five-star meal. When I bring over the cake, her eyes light up, and I’m certain I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make her smile like that.

After we finish our cake, I lead her to the living room.

“I have one more surprise,” I say, handing it to her.

“You didn’t have to get me a present.”

“I wanted to. Open it,” I encourage.

She unwraps it eagerly. The moment she lifts the lid and sees the camera inside, her face lights up, and she lets out a soft gasp.

“Antonio.” She looks up at me, tears welling again.

“I know how much you’ve missed it.”

She sets the camera down carefully and walks over to where I’m standing. “Thank you. This means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

“You mean more to me than you know,” I murmur, cupping her face in my hands.

For the briefest moment, I see it—hope.

I brush my lips against hers. The kiss is tentative at first, a gentle connection that feels fragile, as if any sudden movement might shatter the moment. I expect her to push me away, but she doesn’t.

She leans into me, and the world narrows to just this moment. The feel of her lips on mine, the warmth of her body against me. The danger and threats all fade into the background.

I don’t deserve her trust, but I’ll spend every day proving I’m worthy of it.

“I want you to know,” Alessia says quietly. “I’ve never had sex of my own free will.”

Her confession hits me harder than I expected. I know she’s been through hell, but hearing it said so plainly, so vulnerably, stirs a mix of anger and grief I can’t ignore. It’s a reminder of everything we’ve lost and everything we’re still fighting for.

“We can wait,” I say, my voice low. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. “I don’t want to wait,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I’ve already waited too long. I want to be with you, Antonio.”

I hold her gaze, every protective instinct firing in my blood. “I’ll be gentle,” I promise, my lips brushing against her skin. “If you want to stop, just tell me, and I will.”

She runs her fingers through my hair before rising onto her toes, pressing her mouth to mine. The kiss is soft, as though we’re both learning how to do this—how to be together again. I lift her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist. Her warmth seeps into me like a slow burn, igniting every nerve.

Carrying her upstairs, our lips stay connected, the kiss growing more urgent with each step as if we’re trying to make up for all the time that’s been stolen from us. When I lay her down on the bed, her eyes lock onto mine, filled with a mix of trust and something more profound—something that makes my pulse race.

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