Chapter 44

*Grace POV*

It’s been a week since Moretti’s men had me in their clutches, and while my body still aches from the ordeal, I’ve regained some strength. The bruises on my ribs are fading, and the sharp pain when I move has dulled to a constant throb. Even though my body is healing, my mind keeps replaying those torturous hours, the weight of my vulnerability gnawing at me.

Elio, for his part, has been relentless. He’s barely slept, constantly working, his focus unwavering. He’s become more distant since my rescue, as if he’s closing himself off from me to keep me safe. I know he’s hunting down the people responsible for what happened to me, but I can see the toll it’s taking on him.

Dad found out about what happened, and naturally, he wanted blood. Elio, always the strategist, calmed him down and insisted that he lie low for a while. It was all part of the bigger plan, something about an even greater threat looming over us. I didn’t want the details. I’ve had enough of danger for a lifetime, and I’m not eager to become a pawn in someone else’s game again.

I’m still doing schoolwork, but now it’s online, confined to the house under Elio’s strict orders. He says I need to be safe, and I don’t have the energy to argue. Maybe I’m starting to understand why he’s always so protective.

Tonight, the house feels quieter than usual, the heavy tension lingering in the air. I shuffle out of my room, still sore, and find myself drawn toward Elio’s office. I knock lightly on the door, and his voice calls out, “Come in.”

I push open the door, and there he is—slumped over his desk, his eyes glued to the screen of his laptop, dark circles etched under his eyes like permanent shadows. The fatigue is evident, his shoulders sagging from the weight of his responsibilities. The man before me is no longer the invincible capo I once thought he was—he’s human, exhausted, and pushing himself to his limit.

For a moment, I just watch him, taking in the sight of this man who’s been at the center of everything for so long. I see the hardness in his features, but also the vulnerability he tries so hard to conceal. It tugs at something deep inside me.

He looks up when he notices my presence, his eyes momentarily softening before the hardened expression returns. “Do you need anything?” he asks, his voice gravelly from lack of sleep.

“You need to get some sleep,” I say, my voice soft as I step closer to his desk.

His mouth tightens into a thin line. “I’ll sleep after I deal with the bastard Moretti was working with.”

Typical Elio—always deflecting. Always prioritizing the mission over himself.

“I understand,” I reply, choosing my words carefully, “but you’re exhausted. How are you going to fight this guy when you’re so worn down?”

His attention sharpens, and his eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. “What do you mean by that?”

I step even closer, despite the slight ache in my ribs. “In this state, I could take you down, Elio. Even with my injuries, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

He raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. “You think so?”

“I *know* so,” I reply, my tone firm despite the heat rising between us.

He stands up slowly, towering over me. I can feel the tension building in the air, something unspoken simmering beneath the surface. His eyes roam over my body, lingering on the places where I’m still healing, but his gaze isn’t pitying—it’s something else. Something darker.

“Elio…” I whisper, but I can’t finish. The space between us crackles with energy, like a fuse waiting to be lit.

Without warning, he takes a step forward, closing the distance between us. His hands come to rest on my hips, gentle but firm, his thumbs brushing over the skin just above my waist. His touch is warm, sending shivers up my spine, and I can feel my breath hitch as he leans in closer.

“You think you could take me down?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough against my ear.

I swallow hard, my heart racing. “I think… you’re too tired to stop me.”

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. “You’re playing with fire, Grace.”

I look up at him, meeting his gaze head-on, my defiance pushing through the haze of desire clouding my mind. “Maybe I like the heat.”

The next thing I know, his lips are on mine, crushing me into a kiss that’s as much about claiming as it is about release. There’s nothing soft about it—it’s raw, hungry, desperate. My body responds instantly, my hands tangling in his hair as I kiss him back with equal fervor.

For so long, there’s been this wall between us—built from lies, fear, and circumstances beyond our control—but right now, in this moment, it crumbles to the ground. All that’s left is the electric pull between us, the undeniable chemistry that we’ve been pretending didn’t exist for far too long.

He pulls me closer, and I feel the heat of his body against mine, the strength in his arms as they wrap around me. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and I lose myself in the sensation of his lips, his hands, the way his body molds against mine like we were always meant to fit together.

When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, his forehead rests against mine. His hands remain on my hips, anchoring me in place, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, this moment will slip away.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

I meet his gaze, my chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. “Then why did you?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits, his voice strained with the weight of the confession. “Even when I try to keep you at arm’s length… you’re always there, in my head. And it’s driving me insane.”

My heart skips a beat at his words. I’ve always known there was something between us, something more than the games he played to push me away. But hearing him admit it—it’s a validation of everything I’ve been feeling, everything I’ve known deep down.

“Elio,” I say softly, reaching up to touch his face, my fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw. “I don’t want you to keep pushing me away. Not anymore.”

His eyes darken, his grip on me tightening slightly. “You don’t understand. It’s dangerous for you to be with me. This world… it will eat you alive.”

I hold his gaze, unwavering. “I’m not afraid of your world. I’m afraid of losing you.”

The tension between us snaps, and before I can say anything else, he pulls me back into another kiss, this one softer, more deliberate. It’s not about desire anymore—it’s about something deeper. Something real.

When we finally pull away again, he presses his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“Then I won’t push you away anymore,” he whispers. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”