Page 142 of The One
I hesitate, my hand slipping down to the bed as I try to ground myself. The silence stretches, thick and heavy.
Mari’s gaze sharpens, her dark eyes searching mine.
When she speaks again, her voice is quieter, more cautious. “It’s because of your unease with small wounds, isn’t it?”
The breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding rushes out in a shaky exhale. My jaw tightens, and I glance away, heat creeping up my neck.
“It’s ridiculous, I know,” I mutter, my voice laden with bitterness. “A grown man, and this bothers me.” I gesture vaguely, unable to meet her gaze.
Mari reaches for my hand, her touch gentle. Her fingers graze over the faint scars on the back of it, scars that carry more shame than pain.
“It’s not ridiculous,” she says firmly, her voice so warm that I can’t help but look at her.
Her dark eyes meet mine, full of compassion and understanding.
“We all have things that unnerve us,” she continues softly. “It doesn’t make you weak or strange. If anything, it makes you more real… more human.”
Something tightens in my throat. She shifts closer, wrapping her fingers more securely around mine, her warmth grounding me in a way I didn’t know was possible.
“But if it was known, it would change how people see me,” I say, my voice low. “In my position, I can’t afford that. Weakness isn’t just a liability. It’s a target. You give them one crack, and they’ll take everything.”
Her fingers squeeze mine, her expression soft.
“It’s why Tiero and I have always kept it quiet,” I continue after a moment. “Only Romeo knows. Between us, we’ve figured out how to handle situations when they come up.”
She nods, her thumb brushing gently over my knuckles. “I get it,” she says, her voice firm with understanding.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she promises. “Your secret is safe with me. Always.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips, and I press a kiss to the top of her head.
“I know you won’t,” I murmur. “I trust you.”
For a moment, we sit in quiet, the air between us lighter. But then Mari’s gaze shifts, her attention caught by the small pendant resting against my collarbone.
“You wear this all the time,” she says, tilting her head as her fingers reach out for it.
Her touch lingers for a moment before she pulls back slightly, her brows knitting together.
“This doesn’t really suit your style,” she murmurs, her voice puzzled. “It looks ancient.”
She glances up at me, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “It’s special, isn’t it?”
My chest, which had only just begun to relax, tightens all over again.
I reach for the pendant, the cool clay familiar against my fingertips. Turning it over in my hand, I study the intricate carving etched into its surface, the weight of it pressing against my skin like a brand.
“It’s the De Marco legacy,” I reply. “Without it, no one can rulela famiglia.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Mariella
No one can rulela famigliawithout this pendant?
Why?
I tilt my head, studying the piece of jewelry that’s normally hidden beneath Mateo’s clothes.
