Page 89 of The Proposal

Each thrust becomes harder, faster, and deeper. The intensity lifts my feet off the ground as he squishes my body further into the tiles.

“Fuck,Bellezza,” he groans into my neck. “I can’t get enough of your sweetness. Everything around me seems dark, but when I look at you, all I see is light.”

As soon as my eyelids flutter open, I stretch my wearymuscles. I’m aching in places I never knew existed, but I have no regrets. After being pummelled within an inch of my life in the shower, Dante carried me to bed, gently laid me on top of the mattress, and buried his face between my legs again. When he was finished, he moved up my body and settled himself between my legs.

This time, things were different. He was sweet, loving, andsensual. It almost felt like he was making love to me, and it was so beautiful that tears stung the back of my eyes at one point. I’ve never felt so … cherished.

A smile curves on my lips as I roll over, turning towards my husband, only to be immediately disappointed when I find his side of the bed empty and cold. Did he even get any sleep?

Rising, I slip my arms into my dressing gown and head into the bathroom to clean up.

Minutes later, I find him standing in the kitchen; he’s leaning against the sink, staring out the window, completely lost in thought. I hate seeing him like this. I long for a husband with a simpler life, someone with a steady nine-to-five job, free from the constant threat of danger and the haunting memories of the things he’s forced to endure, but I know that’s not the reality we live in.

My bare feet pad across the tiles, and when I reach him, I slide my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his bare back. Comfort is all that I can offer him right now. I already know he’s not going to talk about whatever happened last night.

He places one hand over mine, lacing our fingers together and squeezing tight, acknowledging my presence.

He remains silent for the longest time, but when he eventually speaks, I’m in no way prepared for what he says. “I got rid of Edoardo last night.” My eyes widen at his confession, but I don’t reply. I stand there and listen, letting him get whatever he needs off his chest. “I found out he was the onebehind Papa’s execution. He was responsible for all those bullets that almost killed me as well.”

Those words have me gasping. “Wasn’t he your father’s best friend?”

“Yes.” He releases a long breath before continuing, and I feel his entire body deflate as he speaks. “That’s not even the worst part.”

“That is bad … inexcusable.”

“I also learned that he was responsible for my mother’s death.” When he speaks, his voice cracks, which hurts my heart.

I release him and move to his side, grasping his arm and encouraging him to face me. “Wasn’t she in a car accident?”

He nods, finally meeting my gaze. “He was the one who ran her off the road.”

“Oh, Dante,” I murmur, reaching up to gently cup his face in my hands. I know the pain he’s carrying all too well. He may not have witnessed her death like I did my mother’s, but I can’t imagine how hard it must be to accept that both of his parents were taken from him unnecessarily by someone else’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I hope you made thatbastardosuffer.”

His eyebrows lift slightly, and a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I did.”

“Good,” I reply, pushing up on my toes to press a soft kiss against his lips. “Are you hungry?”

He lifts a shoulder nonchalantly. “I could eat.”

I release him and step back. “Go sit. I’ll make somecaffè(Coffee).”

“Okay,” he answers, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he stands there, staring at me intently.

“What?” I ask, frowning. “Do I have something on my face?”

The smile on his lips widens. “No,” he says as the tips of his fingers brush gently across my cheek. “I’m just thankful to have you in my life.”

“Same.” We’ve come so far since the first time we met. I still miss my sister, but I’m finding peace with him in Australia.

“I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?”

“No,” I answer. There is no denying I’m sore, but I enjoyed it too much to have regrets. “I’m still able to walk, so that’s a plus.”

He laughs, a sharp, genuine sound, and I can’t help but smile along with him.

When he leans in and places a soft kiss on my forehead, my heart does a flip-flop in my chest. My feelings for this man are growing at a rapid pace, but that no longer terrifies me. Neither does he. I know how sacred the things that happen in his world are, so the fact that he just let me in, even just a little, means so much.

Chapter 21

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