I almost lost her. That thought keeps hitting me over and over. Five minutes later and Lorenzo would have strangled her. Five minutes and she'd have been dead and I'd have gotten there just in time to see her body.
I can't think about that without my chest getting tight.
"Is it done?" She asks.
"It's done." I close the door and lock it. "Romeo's dead. The Morettis are dead. It's over."
She stands and she's steadier now, which is good. "What happens now?"
That's the question I've been avoiding since I pulled the knife out of Emilio's chest. What happens now that there's no war to fight, no enemy to destroy, no strategic reason to keep her here. She could leave. Walk out that door and I'd have no legitimate claim to stop her.
"That depends on you." I reach up and brush hair back from her face, careful around the stitches. "On whether you want to stay."
"Stay? Here with you?"
"Yes." Christ, I'm terrible at this. My father taught me how to kill and strategize and command respect, but he never taught me how to tell a woman she's become more important than territory or power. "I want you to stay. Not for any fucking strategy or leverage or any of that. I want you here because the idea of you not being here makes me want to put my fist through a wall."
She's staring and I'm making a mess of this but whatever, too late now.
I've spent seventeen years building walls around anything that could be weaponized against me. Seventeen years not letting anyone close enough to matter. My father died because he trusted the wrong person and I swore I'd never make that mistake. Never give anyone that kind of power over me.
But Alessia already has it. Has had it for days and I've been too stubborn to admit it.
"I've spent seventeen years not letting anyone get close." The words feel clumsy in my mouth but I force them out anyway. "Not letting myself feel anything that could be used against me. And then you showed up and broke through every defense I had without even trying."
"Matteo—"
"Let me finish." I need to say this before I lose my nerve. "I walked into that warehouse unarmed because getting you back mattered more than staying alive."
My hands are shaking and I shove them in my pockets because I don't want her to see. I've faced down armed men without flinching but telling this woman how I feel is more terrifying than bullets.
She's crying now and I watch tears track through the dried blood on her face.
This is it. This is where I either say it or spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I'd been brave enough.
"I love you."
Alessia
The words slam into me and I forget how to breathe for a second.
Matteo Romano just said he loves me.
The man who spent weeks pretending nothing mattered, who told me I was leverage, who built walls so high I thought I'd never see past them.
He loves me.
"Say that again." My voice comes out shaky.
"I love you." He says it steadier this time and I can see how much it costs him to be this vulnerable. "I don't know if I'm any good at this but I love you and I want you to stay. Not as a hostage, but as my wife. For real this time."
My legs go weak and I have to sit back down on the bed before they give out completely. He loves me and he just said it out loud.
"I love you too." The words spill out and I'm crying harder now. "When Lorenzo pointed that gun at you tonight, I thought I'd have to watch you die and I couldn't—I couldn't breathe thinking about it."
He crosses the room and pulls me up into his arms and kisses me like I'm the only thing keeping him alive. I kiss him back and taste salt from my tears.
When he pulls back, we're both breathing hard and his forehead rests against mine.