Page 186 of Made for Sinners

I turned the mug over in my hands again, the gold rim catching the sunlight. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. How could something as absurd as a Starbucks mug collection feel so… significant?

He leaned in slightly, his voice dipping lower, teasing now. “So, what’s next? A matching bespoke toilet brush?”

I choked on a laugh, shaking my head. “Oh, don’t tempt me.”

His laugh rumbled low in his chest, and for a moment, the world felt smaller—just the two of us, surrounded by sunlight and the quiet hum of Venice in the background.

On our last night,we sat on the rooftop of the villa, a blanket wrapped around our shoulders and a bottle of wine between us. The stars were out—bright, endless, and indifferent to everything we’d survived. The vineyard below was quiet, the vines sleeping beneath the moonlight, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze like they were whispering secrets to the hills.

Dante sat beside me, legs stretched out, one arm slung behind me on the blanket. His other hand cradled his wine glass, though he hadn’t taken a sip in a while. He was watching the stars, his expression softer than I’d ever seen it. Not unreadable. Not calculating. Just… still.

I leaned my head against his shoulder, letting the silence settle between us like a warm coat. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t the kind of silence that buzzed with things unsaid. It was the kind that only came when you knew the person beside you would still be there when the sun came up.

“I don’t want to go back,” I said quietly.

He didn’t answer right away. Just shifted slightly, his arm tightening around me.

“Then we don’t,” he said finally.

I blinked. “What?”

“We don’t go back,” he repeated, his voice low, steady. “We stay. Here. As long as you want.”

I pulled back just enough to look at him. “You’re serious.”

He nodded once. “I’ve done enough killing for a lifetime. I’ve built the empire. Protected it. Burned down anyone who tried to take it from me. But this?” He gestured to the vineyard, the stars, the quiet. “This is the first thing I’ve ever built that feels like it could last.”

My throat tightened. I looked down at the wine glass in my hands, the deep red liquid catching the starlight like blood and rubies.

“I don’t know how to be still,” I admitted. “I don’t know how to just… be.”

“You don’t have to,” he said. “You just have to be here. With me.”

I smiled, but it felt fragile. “You’re really bad at pretending you’re not a romantic.”

He laughed, low and warm. “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

I leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

We sat like that for a while, wrapped in the blanket, the night stretching out around us like a promise. I thought about everything we’d been through—every betrayal, every bullet, every whispered threat. I thought about the woman I’d been when I first met him—sharp, angry, always ready to run. And I thought about the woman I was now.

Still sharp. Still angry, sometimes. But no longer running.

Because I’d found something worth staying for.

The next morning,we didn’t pack.

We didn’t talk about flights or schedules or what waited for us back in the city. We just moved through the villa like we belonged there—like we’d always belonged there. Dante made coffee in the kitchen, shirtless and barefoot, his hair a mess and his eyes still heavy with sleep. I sat at the table in one of his button-downs, legs curled beneath me, watching him like he was the sunrise.

“I could get used to this,” I said, sipping from my Venice mug.

He glanced over his shoulder. “You already have.”

I grinned. “You’re not going to miss the chaos?”

He shrugged, pouring two cups. “There’s always chaos. But it doesn’t have to live in the same room as us.”

He brought me my coffee and kissed the top of my head before sitting across from me.

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