Chapter 26: Engagement

Savannah

My heart pounded against my chest. I had no delusions; Luciano Vitale may be in my hands, but he'll still kill me, if he has to.

"October 11th. Let's get married on October 11th."

His whiskey brown eyes poured hope on me, burning all the way down my throat.

"That's two weeks from today. Are you sure--"

"You'll do it for me though. Right?"

I turn on the charm. The Make-Luciano-Do-What-I-Want-Charm. Honestly, I'm starting to feel bad. The poor shlub is hopeless. I'd think, for a mafia Don, he'd know better.

Apparently not. I see that glaze cover his eyes, that furrow in his brow that says, I know this is a bad idea, but Kitty eyes.

"Why?" He looks past me, avoiding eye contact "What are you up to?"

My breath catches. I know he's not completely stupid. But damn.

"Why would you ask me that?" I disguise my surprise, turn into offence.

"Because I know you better than you think," His accent gets heavier, "I may love you, but I know better than to trust you."

Clenching my jaw, I look away.

I may love you. He isn't lying. I know when he's lying. When he lies to me, he tends to over pronounce his words, trying to sound more American than possible.

When he's emotional, his accent gets so thick, sometimes you can barely decipher what he's saying.

"You don't trust me?" The hurt in my voice is not an act.

I'm actually hurt.

He meets my eye.

"Savannah, I love you. I do. But...you are a runner, and you are a plotter. I do not believe that you would tie yourself to me and I do not believe that you love me. So what is the scam?"

What gets me the most, is that... He doesn't even sound angry about it. It's just facts. Sad facts, the way he says this.

"You don't think I love you?"

Now I'm not looking at him.

"I know you don't, Savannah. You have not blinded me that much." He heaves a laden sigh from his chest, and pulls me in his arms.

"Let's talk about this later. Come, I need to sleep. I need to hold you tonight."

Without a second thought I let him gather me into his arms, and settles me against his body.

His arms form a seatbelt around my waist. He smells of gunpowder, wine and soap.

Our legs tangle automatically, his nose brushing mine. He smiles, sighs in content. He loves this part for some reason.

Nuzzling my nose, he gives me a sweet kiss.

"Google, turn off the lights."

I smirk. He loves that more.

"Buonanotte, amore mio."

"Good night, Lucy."

Faintly, I hear him whisper. "Ti vogilo."

Soon after his breathing evens out, and he snuggles closer to me.

My head sound in the dark.

Funny how life is. I know my heart would be safe with him. The fact that he doesn't expect it tells me that.

At first all I saw him as was chains.

But as I spend more time with him, I realized that he actually does care about me. He actually does love me.

Sometimes, he doesn't know how to express it, other times he knows just do, just what to say.

But I know one thing for sure: my heart is safer in his hands, than his is in mine.