Page 333 of Rosetti Family New York
The observation cuts too close to truth. I have been cataloguing moments, storing sensations, preparing for the possibility that Friday night ends with one of us in the ground and the other learning what it means to grieve someone you'd die to protect.
"The planning starts now," he murmurs against my throat, but his tone carries weight beyond tactical preparation. "Not just for Friday night. For what happens if..."
He doesn't finish the sentence, but I hear what he's not saying.If you don't come back. If I don't come back. If this perfect thing we've built gets destroyed by the violence that created it.
"Don't." The word comes out sharper than I meant. "Don't plan for failure."
"I'm not planning for failure." He holds me tighter, keeping me close to his chest. "I'm planning to keep you alive, no matter what happens to me."
The way he talks about his own death chills me. I turn in his arms, needing to see his face and find the truth in his eyes that have seen too much.
"Emilio—"
"Listen to me." He holds my face gently, his thumbs brushing my cheeks like he's memorizing them. "If something goes wrong Friday night, if things change, if I fall… there are things you need to know."
"Stop talking like that."
"Like what? Like a man who's spent his life making sure you're safe?" His smile is cold, but I sense fear underneath that tightens my throat. "That's exactly what I am, Mara. And part of keeping you safe is making sure you can survive without me."
He leads me to his main suite, but instead of going to his tech setup, he takes me to the sitting area. The morning light through the big windows feels too bright, too hopeful for what we're about to discuss.
"Sit." It's an order, but given with care. "Please."
I sink into the leather sofa, watching him walk over to the windows. His reflection blends with the garden view, dark hair and a lean build against the curated green, a man considering everything he might lose.
"There's a safe," he says, still facing the window. "Behind the Monet in my bedroom. It has a biometric lock set to your palm print. Inside, you'll find everything you need. Money, documents, and contacts who can help you disappear if the family sees you as a threat."
"You programmed my palm print?"
"While you were sleeping." He turns at last, and the vulnerability on his face takes my breath away. "After the family meeting."
I gasp. "You really think they'll kill me."
"Of course not," he says, but I can tell it's a lie. We both know that Rosettis protect Rosettis, and until I'm one of them, I'm a threat.
My chest tightens. He's not just worried about the mission failing, he's scared his own family will see me as more of a risk than a benefit, no matter what happens Friday night.
"There's more," he says, moving to his desk. Instead of turning on the screens, he pulls out a single key from a drawer. "The Lamborghini downstairs. It's modified with armor plating, bulletproof glass, and a GPS you can disable. The trunk has go-bags with everything you'd need for six months on the run."
I take the key with shaky hands, feeling the warmth from his grip. "How long have you been planning this?"
"Since the moment you decided to stay." He sits next to me, close enough that I can smell his cologne mixed with a hint of fear. "Since I realized that loving me might be the most dangerous thing you've ever done."
"The contact list in the safe," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "Matteo's at the top. If something happens to me, if the family turns against you, he'll help. We burned bridges, but he's my twin. I… I trust him."
My throat tightens with tears I can't shed. "You've thought of everything."
"I've tried to." He gently traces my knuckles with his thumb. "But there's one thing I can't plan for. One thought that keeps me up at night."
"What is it?"
"You." He holds my face in his hands, making me look into his eyes. "What happens to you if I die and you decide you can't live without me."
His honest confession hits me hard. He's not just scared of danger, he's terrified that losing him would make me choose death over survival.
"Promise me," he pleads, his voice desperate. "Promise me that if something happens to me, you'll use what I've given you.That you'll run, disappear, start a new life. That you won't let grief make you foolish."
"I can't—"
