Page 188 of Made for Sinners

The rest of the day passed in a haze of sun and laughter and wine. We walked the rows of vines, barefoot and hand-in-hand, talking about everything and nothing. Dante asked questions about soil acidity and fermentation like he genuinely cared, and I tried not to laugh when he squinted at a grape like it had personally offended him.

We had lunch on the terrace—fresh bread, soft cheese, olives, and a bottle of wine from the cellar. Dante insisted on opening it himself, even though he nearly broke the cork and muttered something about “just shooting the damn bottle.”

I took a picture of him holding it up triumphantly, shirtless and smug, and posted it to my private Instagram with the caption: “Husband, feral. Wine, intact. A miracle.”

Adrianna commented:“You’re living my dream.”

I replied:“It’s mostly wine and threats of violence. 10/10 would recommend.”

By sunset, we were back on the rooftop, a second bottle of wine between us, the stars beginning to blink into existence above.

I curled into Dante’s side, my head on his shoulder, his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek.

“I think I’m happy,” I said, surprised by the words.

He looked down at me. “Only think?”

I smiled. “I’m still adjusting.”

He kissed my forehead. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

I believed him.

?

That night, I lay in bed beside him, the sheets cool against my skin, his arm draped over my waist. I stared at the ceiling, listening to the crickets outside, the soft rustle of the vines in the wind.

I thought about everything we’d been through.

The lies. The blood. The betrayals.

The love.

Because that’s what it was now. Not just lust or survival or circumstance.

It was love.

Messy. Complicated. Terrifying.

But real.

I turned to face him, brushing my fingers along the line of his jaw. He stirred, eyes still closed, a soft sound escaping his throat.

“I love you,” I whispered.

His eyes opened, slow and sleepy. “Took you long enough.”

I laughed, and he pulled me closer, burying his face in my neck.

“You’re mine,” he murmured.

“I know.”

“And I’m yours.”

“Forever.”

He kissed me then, slow and deep, and I melted into him like I’d been waiting my whole life for this moment.

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