Page 80 of His Enemy's Daughter
“Then, as your brother, let me say this.” He pulls me into another embrace, hard and brief. “Thank you. For the sacrifice. For the loyalty. For being the one person I knew would never betray me, even when it cost everything.”
“Always.” The word carries a lifetime of choices I’d make again. “Fratello mio.”
We pull apart, both carefully not acknowledging the wetness in our eyes. Some emotions are too big for words, too raw for casual acknowledgment.
Regina appears at my side, her presence grounding. “Ready?”
“Ready.” I take the documents and credit card Simeone presses into my hands—tangible proof of loyalty that spans decades. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Take care of him,” Simeone says to Regina, his tone carrying weight. “He pretends he doesn’t need anyone, but he does. And he’s chosen you, which means you matter.”
“I will.” Regina’s response is simple, genuine. “And thank you for the house. For the resources. It’s more generosity than we expected.”
“It’s what family does.” Simeone’s hand rests on Loriana’s shoulder, the two of them framed in their doorway. “Safe travels. And if you ever need anything...”
“I know where to find you.” I finish the sentence, feeling the weight of goodbye settling in my chest.
We walk to the car in comfortable silence, documents and credit card feeling like promise in my jacket pocket. As I start theengine, I glance at Regina and find her watching me with an expression I can’t quite name.
“What?”
“You turned down a partnership in a powerful organization to build something new with me.” Her voice carries wonder and disbelief. “Why?”
“Because partnerships can be dissolved and organizations can fall.” I pull out of the driveway, watching Simeone’s estate disappear in the rearview mirror. “But what we’re building? That’s ours. Built on choice instead of obligation, on connection instead of convenience. That’s worth more than any empire.”
“You’re either incredibly romantic or incredibly stupid.”
“Can’t I be both?”
Her laugh fills the car, bright and genuine. “I suppose you can. Silver Fox with a soft center—who knew?”
“Don’t spread that around.” But I’m smiling, feeling lighter than I have in fifteen years. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” She reaches over, her hand finding mine on the gearshift. “So. Sicily tomorrow?”
“Sicily tomorrow.” I confirm it like a vow. “New country, new life, new beginning. Just us figuring out what comes next.”
“No pressure or anything.”
“No pressure.” I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Just possibility.”
And as we drive toward our last night in America before everything changes, I realize that for the first time since walking out of prison, I’m not looking backward at what I lost or sideways at what I’m owed.
I’m looking forward to what we’re building.
And it feels like freedom.
25
Regina
“Three months in Sicily and you still haven’t learned to take a break.”
Mauricio’s voice carries across the terrace of our villa in Cefalù, rough with amusement. I don’t look up from my laptop, though my fingers pause on the keyboard as I track his approach through the Mediterranean afternoon.
“Three months in Sicily and you still think I’m the workaholic in this relationship.” I save the document I’m reviewing—acquisition papers for a legitimate shipping company that will form the backbone of our import business. “Last night you were on the phone with contractors until two in the morning.”
“That was different.” He appears in my peripheral vision, all silver hair and sun-bronzed skin, wearing nothing but swim trunks that sit low on his hips. Prison-lean has given way to something more substantial—muscle built from honest work instead of survival necessity. “I was ensuring our warehouse renovations stay on schedule.”
