Chapter 193

Chapter 194
LEVI

The eagerness in her voice made me smile, and it became clearer that I was making a damn good decision. This is it.
I reached for her hands, holding them tightly between mine as if I could fuse us together through sheer will—wed us now in this restaurant, with all these people watching, and never let go.
“I never stopped loving you,” she muttered—but before she could finish, I was already on my feet.
I crossed the space between us, heart pounding, and swept her into my arms, lifting her bridal style. Her laughter brushed against my neck like wind.
“Levi, what are you doing…” she squealed. I loved it when she called my name—better even than when she called me Master.
“We’re going now,” I said, half-laughing myself. “Whatever it is you want to say can be said in the car…”
She gasped, fingers clutching my collar. “Now?”
“Now.”
“What if I have something else to do… something important…”
“It can wait till we get back,” I said, carrying her toward the door, her heartbeat thudding against my chest like a second rhythm, fierce and alive.
But just as we reached it, she stiffened. Her body went rigid in my arms, and instinctively, I followed her gaze.
Lorenzo De Santis.
He sat near the entrance of the restaurant with a very young woman, fresh-faced, barely in her twenties. Too young for him, probably. Yet together they radiated a subtle tension, a quiet rivalry, as if the world itself couldn’t quite decide whether they were partners, adversaries, or both. But there was something else—something I couldn’t place—lurking in the air between them. For a heartbeat, everything around us blurred and fell away: the soft clink of glasses, the low hum of conversation, even the dim lights seemed to fade.
Seeing him, I wasn’t exactly shocked—more wary than anything. There was always something about him that put me on edge. Not unpleasantly, but alert. I’d never truly crossed paths with him—or his father, for that matter—though I’d always sensed they were trying to rival us, trying to prove something. Maybe to themselves, maybe to the world. Maybe to us. They were always measuring power, prestige, wealth… the two richest Italian dynasties in America, locked in silent competition, at least to them. Our paths crossed often enough at galas, events, auctions, but I’d never cared, and I wasn’t sure my father had either.
It was fortunate that we towed different lines of business; that kept the rivalry in check.
I wondered what Lorenzo was doing here, and why Isabella… was looking at him that way.
“Do you know him?” I asked, my voice low, careful, trying not to unsettle her—or myself.
Her eyes flickered back to mine, wide and quick, and she shook her head. “No,” she said too quickly, almost nervously, before leaning up to kiss me.
The kiss silenced the moment, and again, my world orbited entirely around Isabella. Every other thought, every other presence, faded. I tipped the security guard with a casual nod, then stepped out, carrying her into the night.
Outside, the streets were bathed in shadows and scattered city light, so far removed from the warm brightness of the restaurant. The air was cool, carrying the clean, electric scent left behind by the earlier rain. I carried her across the wet pavement to the car parked in the restaurant’s lot, the soft glow of the light reflecting off the slick asphalt.
A thought flitted through my mind—New York was probably on the verge of flooding with all this weather, but that didn’t matter. Maybe I’d spend more time in Italy, then travel wherever she chose for our honeymoon. Once we were married, I intended to start traveling frequently with her, of course. I was going to give her back the job she had lost, and this time we would be unstoppable.
There were so many plans I had for my… no… our future. It just felt good to have someone truly mine.
Still holding her, I opened the passenger door with one hand, balancing her weight with ease. She giggled, soft and melodic, as I gently lowered her into the seat. Her white dress fanned out around her thighs—long yet daringly seductive in all the right ways. I caught myself imagining running my hands through the fabric, feeling the warmth beneath, and my pulse jumped.
I slid into the driver’s seat, eager to leave the city behind and get to the airport.
“I haven’t driven in a damn long time,” I muttered as I started the car, “so I might be slow as hell.” I pressed the lock button. The doors clicked shut. I shot her a grin. “Now you can’t go anywhere.”
She leaned in, kissed my cheek. “Who says I want to?”