Page 118 of Of Lies and Shadows

Thesound echoes off the walls and makes me flinch, but I don’t move. Not really. Not away from him.

Because this is what I needed: the truth, the fire.

“Then why?” I demand, my voice trembling. “Why give me this?”

“Because it’s whatyouwanted!” he snaps, dragging both hands through his hair, his whole body taut with anguish. “What you asked from the moment I realized my horrible mistake. I tried to fix it. I tried to prove myself. But you—” He swallows hard, and his voice cracks. “You couldn’t hear me. And maybe I can’t blame you. Because I broke something, didn’t I?”

He exhales like he’s trying to get oxygen back into a body still stuck in that office, in that moment.

“I can tell you again and again how much I love you,” he continues, lower now, wrecked. “But all you see is me on my worst day. You see the man who threw his pain at you like a weapon. Not the one who’s spent every day since trying to be better.”

I open my mouth, but no words come.

“I was heartbroken, Francesca,” he says quietly, his gaze locking with mine. “I was falling,really falling, for the first time in my life. For a younger woman full of life and fire, who made me laugh. Who made me believe in something softer than blood and duty. I saw a future with you, a life built on love instead of contracts and cold calculation. For the first time, I didn’t just exist, I wanted.”

He shakes his head with a bitter, broken laugh.

“And then it was ripped away. I thought you betrayed me. I saw red. I lashed out. And it destroyed us.”

I don’t respond. I just stare at him, wondering why he never said these things before, but deep down, I know the answer. He tried, and I didn’t want to hear it because I was terrified of standing where he’s standing now.

I was terrified to let myself love him because I know how costly love can be.

I draw in a shaky breath. “You showed me the monster,” I whisper. “But you also showed me the good man. The man who didn’t know how to show his children love but did it anyway. The man who placed the loyalty of a friend above his thirst for revenge. A man who can both worship and wound.” My voice cracks, and I don’t bother hiding it. “And I love that man, Dante, in a way that terrifies me. I think I loved you all along… but it was easier to cling to the monster. Because the rest of you”—I press a hand to my chest, where the ache is deepest—“the rest could hurt too much.” I look up at him, tears shining in my eyes. “I’m scared. I know that if I love you, I won’t justloveyou. I’ll be addicted to you. And what if that’s not enough? What if one day you stop wanting me? What then?”

For a moment, he just stares at me, unmoving. As if he’s afraid any sudden shift might shatter the moment entirely. His eyes are burning—too many things behind them. Guilt. Hope. Hunger.Love.

Then he crosses the room in two long strides and cups my face, his hands trembling. “I never stopped wanting you. Not for a single fucking second.” I can barely breathe as he leans in, his forehead pressing to mine. “But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll hurt you again. I didn’t protect you, and you got shot because of me. I’m terrified that I’ll break one ofthe best things I’ve ever had.” He brushes his nose against mine. “Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t want a divorce.” It’s hard to admit it out loud for the first time. “And I can have children.” I don’t know why I add that, but I feel the need to.

“You’re telling me,” he says slowly like he needs to hear it again, “that you can…?”

I nod, my throat tight. “But I don’t care about that anymore. I just want you. I want this life. Our life. You, me, Alessio, Lucia. I want the mess, the healing, the future… all of it. Even if it’s not perfect.”

Emotion crashes through his eyes, his jaw clenching hard as he steps back like he needs space, like the weight of everything I just said is too much.

“Francesca…” He looks at me like I’m a miracle he doesn’t deserve. “Are you sure? Because there won’t be any turning back. I will not heal from this.”

“I’m sure. I was scared to let myself fall without realizing that it was too late, but I love you,” I whisper. “And I know you love me too. I won’t run from that. Not anymore.”

He stares at me for a long, tortured beat, then something in him buckles. He reaches for me again slowly, as if waiting for me to vanish.

“Say it again,” he pleads softly, his voice raw. “Say you want me.”

“I want you.”

A groan rips from his throat, and his lips find mine in a kiss that’s nothing like the fire we’ve known before. This one is trembling and reverent and aching. His hands cradle myface, brush down my sides, and then hesitate at the hem of my shirt.

“I’m scared,” he murmurs against my mouth. “You’re still healing. What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t,” I breathe out. “But even if you did… I’d still want you.”

That’s all it takes. The last thread of restraint in him snaps… not in violence, but in surrender.

He lowers me gently onto the desk, fingers trembling as they push up the fabric of my shirt and slide beneath it, baring my stomach, then brushing over the band of my underwear. He doesn’t strip me completely; he's too careful, too focused on letting me feel safe, wanted.

Each touch is a benediction. A vow. His gaze drinks in every scar, every tremble of breath, every flinch I try to hide.

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