Chapter 17 Chapter Seventeen
He reached up, his fingers tracing the bandage on my wrist. "I didn't come for the code, Lila. I came because I couldn't breathe in a world where you weren't there to hate me."
My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild, frantic rhythm. The hate I had been nursing, the resentment I had used as a shield, was crumbling. In its place was something terrifyingly beautiful, a deep, connection that transcended logic.
"I don't hate you," I whispered.
The admission hung in the air, heavy and irreversible.
Matteo’s gaze intensified. He stood up, dropping the cloth into the bowl. He reached for my waist, pulling me off the bed and flush against him. His hands were large, certain, and possessive.
"Tell me again," he commanded.
"I don't hate you," I said, my voice stronger now. "But I should. You’ve ruined my life, Matteo. You’ve turned me into a target. You’ve made me a stranger to myself."
"I haven't ruined your life," he murmured, his face dropping toward mine. "I’ve given you a throne. I’ve given you a name that means you never have to be afraid again. And as for being a stranger... I know exactly who you are, Lila Moreno. You’re the only person who can look at me and see the man instead of the Don."
He kissed me then, and it wasn't like the other times. There was no battle for dominance, no teeth, no blood. It was a slow, deep surrender. It was the taste of relief and the scent of the sea. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer until there was no space between us.
He groaned into my mouth, a low, guttural sound of pure want. He lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist, and carried me to the bed. He laid me down on the silk sheets, his body a heavy, welcome weight on mine.
That night, on a jet thirty thousand feet above the earth, the debt was finally forgotten. There was no talk of codes or fathers or syndicates. There was only the heat of his skin, the strength of his hands, and the way his name felt like a prayer on my lips.
We didn't sleep. Even after the fire had burned down to embers, we stayed awake, tangled in the sheets and the darkness.
Matteo lay on his back, his arm around me, pulling me into his side. I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady, powerful thrum of his heart. I could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, the way his muscles twitched as he fought off the exhaustion.
I stayed up all night, watching him.
The moon, visible through the high window of the bedroom, cast a silver light across his features. I studied the scars on his chest, tracing them with my eyes. I thought about the man who had built an empire of blood and the man who had just risked everything to find me.
I thought about his presence and how it filled the room even when he was silent. How the very air seemed to move differently when he was near. I had spent so long trying to escape him, but now, the thought of being anywhere else felt like a death sentence.
I watched the way his eyelashes brushed his cheek, the slight furrow in his brow that never truly went away, even in sleep. I felt a surge of protectiveness that shocked me. I wanted to build a wall around him. I wanted to be the shield he had been for me.
Around four in the morning, Matteo stirred. He didn't open his eyes, but his grip on me tightened.
"You're still awake," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
"I can't sleep," I said. "I’m afraid if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up back in that lab."
He opened his eyes then, and the look he gave me was so full of raw, unfiltered affection that it made my chest ache. He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow, and looked down at me.
"You’re never going back there," he promised. "I’m going to find everyone involved. I’m going to burn the Yamaguchi-gumi to the ground, and then I’m going to find your father and make him explain why he put a target on your back."
"He said it wasn't the end," I whispered. "He said the Valentis sold the sequence to a third party."
Matteo’s eyes darkened. "It doesn't matter. They can have the sequence. They can have the money. But they can’t have you."
He reached out and traced the curve of my lip with his thumb. "Do you know what I was thinking about when I was on that roof in Tokyo? Before I saw you?"
"What?"
"I was thinking about the way you looked in that red gown. The way you looked at me in the chapel when you spat on my face. I realized then that I didn't want a wife who would obey me. I wanted a wife who would fight me. Because a woman who fights is a woman who is worth winning."
He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Go to sleep, Lila. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere."
I closed my eyes, finally letting the exhaustion take hold. With the scent of him in my lungs and the warmth of his body against mine, the nightmares felt far away.
But as I drifted off, a thought flickered in my mind.
I was staying up thinking about him, and I knew, with a certainty that terrified me, that he had spent the last six months staying up thinking about me. We were two halves of the same broken thing, brought together by violence and held together by a code we didn't fully understand.
The love-to-hate relationship was gone. It had been replaced by something far more permanent. An obsession that went deeper than blood.
When I woke up a few hours later, the sun was beginning to rise, filling the cabin with a soft, pink light.
Matteo was already up. He was sitting in the chair by the bed, fully dressed, watching me. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, but he wasn't drinking it. He was just looking at me with an expression of such intense, quiet longing that it took my breath away.
"Good morning," he said.
"Did you sleep at all?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I didn't want to miss a second of you being safe."
I sat up, the silk sheets falling away. I reached out for him, and he took my hand, kissing my palm.
In that moment, I knew. I wasn't just his wife by law. I wasn't just his wife by debt.
I was his by choice.
And as the jet began its final descent toward the rugged, beautiful mountains of Sicily, I realized that the war wasn't over. It was just entering a new phase.
We were going home to finish what had started thirty years ago.
But this time, we were doing it together.
The flame and the Don.
And heaven help anyone who tried to stand in our way.