Page 87 of His Nephew's Ex
“Stop.” The command comes out sharper than intended, cutting through his self-recrimination like a blade. “You can’t control everything, Simeone. You can’t predict every threat or prevent every danger. You’re not a god.”
“I’m supposed to be your protector.” His hands still on my wrists, holding me like I might disappear if he loosens his grip. “I’m supposed to be powerful enough, smart enough, ruthless enough to keep you safe.”
The vulnerability in his voice undoes me completely. This man, who commands empires and ends lives with a word, is torturing himself because someone got past his defenses for a few hours.
“You are,” I say simply. “You found me. You brought me home. You made sure that warehouse became Flavio’s final mistake instead of my tomb.”
His hands begin a thorough examination that walks the razor’s edge between tenderness and possession. Every touch is catalogued, every response noted with the precision of a manwho refuses to miss a single sign of damage to what belongs to him. The obsessive attention should feel invasive. But it doesn’t. Instead, it feels like being claimed by someone who values me more than his own life.
“Talk to me,” he murmurs as his hands map every inch of accessible skin, searching for damage I might be hiding. “Tell me what happened. All of it.”
So I do. I tell him about Flavio emerging from the garden like some twisted specter from our past. About the van, the warehouse, the casual way he discussed using me as leverage against the man he used to call uncle. About the restraints, the waiting, the growing certainty that I might not make it home to build the life we’ve barely started.
With each detail, I watch Simeone’s expression grow darker, more dangerous.
“I should have killed him,” he says quietly. “Should have put a bullet in his head the moment I saw him in that warehouse.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I thought mercy would satisfy you.”
“It did.” I lean into his touch as his hands continue their careful inventory of my wellbeing. “But not because I wanted to save him. Because I wanted to save you.”
“Save me from what?”
“From becoming the kind of man who murders family members in cold blood.” I meet his gaze directly. “Blood or not, you raised him. Killing him would’ve changed you.”
“And who am I now,stellina?”
“You’re still the Silver Devil,” I say, using the title. “Dangerous, powerful, absolutely ruthless when necessary. But you’re also the man who carries me up stairs when I’m shaking. The man who examines bruises like they’re personal insults that need avenging. The man who loves me enough to choose mercy when vengeance would be easier.”
His hands still on my face, and for a moment we just stare at each other in the golden lamplight. Two people who’ve survived something that could’ve destroyed everything we’ve built together.
“I was so scared,” I whisper, finally admitting the fear I’ve been holding back since he pulled me out of that warehouse. “Not just of Flavio, but of losing this. Losing us. Losing the chance to see what we could become together.”
“You’ll never lose me. I will tear down governments and burn cities before I let anyone take you from me again.”
“And our baby?” I ask, my hand moving to rest on my stomach. “What if something had happened to—”
“Nothing happened.” His hand covers mine, warm and steady. “Our child is safe. You’re both safe. That’s all that matters.”
But I can see the fear in his eyes—the same terror that’s been eating at me since I realized how easily our sanctuary was breached. How quickly everything we’ve built could disappear if we’re not careful enough, smart enough, vigilant enough.
“I keep thinking about what could’ve happened,” I admit. “If you hadn’t found me in time. If Flavio had decided I was more useful dead than alive. If—”
“Stop.” His voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts with gentle authority. “Those things didn’t happen. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re mine.”
“But they could’ve happened. They almost did happen.” The words come out broken, carrying the weight of terror I’ve been trying to hold back. “I could’ve lost everything before I even knew what I was losing.”
That’s when I break.
Not elegant tears, but ugly, desperate sobs. Everything I’ve held back comes pouring out. I’m gasping, shaking, falling apart.
Simeone doesn’t try to calm me down or tell me everything’s fine. Instead, he pulls me against his chest and holds me while I fall apart, making it possible to finally feel everything I’ve been pushing away.
“I was so scared,” I sob against his shirt. “So fucking scared that I’d never see you again. Never get to tell you how much I love you. Never get to find out what kind of parents we’d be together.”
“You’re never going to find out what it’s like without me,” he murmurs against my hair. “Because I’m never letting you go. Never letting anyone take you from me again. Never giving you a reason to doubt that you’re the most important thing in my world.”
