Chapter 48
\*Grace POV\*
The room is silent, filled only with the dim glow of the bedside lamp. I had finally drifted to sleep, the ache in my muscles and bones fading away when a sense of being watched stirs me awake. I blink, disoriented, only to find a shadow standing at the edge of my bed.
“Shhh… It’s me. I just wanted to see you for a few moments,” Elio’s voice reaches me, soft as a whisper.
I glance at the clock. It’s two in the morning. My heart races, but I sit up, blinking away the remnants of sleep, and reach over to turn on the lamp, casting a warm glow over him. His face is illuminated, and I see shadows under his eyes, signs of exhaustion etched in his expression.
“Elio?” I whisper, my voice thick with sleep. “Are you okay? What happened?”
He sighs deeply, and I can sense that something heavy is weighing on him. The dim light only highlights the strain in his face, the burden he carries. “Do you understand now, Grace?” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Do you see why… why there can’t be anything romantic between us?”
My throat tightens at his words, but I manage to ask, “Because of your father?”
He gives a small shake of his head. “No, Grace. It’s not just my father. It’s everything. You would suffer too much.” He rubs his eyes, running his hand over his face as though the admission pains him. “And I’m older than you. It’s wrong.”
I sit up fully, pulling the blanket around me. “Elio, I understand… but I don’t care. I know the risks. I know what could happen.” My heart thumps as I steady my gaze on him. “And if it’s so wrong, you should have thought of that before you seduced me.”
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, breaking through his brooding expression. “Oh, so that’s how it is? I seduced you?” He lets out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair, mussing it.
“I don’t know who seduced who, Grace. I think you might be a witch.” His voice dips low, the words thick with a raw intensity. “I can’t think of anything but you.”
The air between us is charged, heavy with unspoken things. My gaze falls to his hand resting on the bed, so close yet just out of reach. Without thinking, I reach over, resting my hand over his. His skin is warm, roughened by years of hard work, and just the contact sends a jolt through me.
“Elio… I don’t care about what’s ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ when it comes to us,” I murmur, the words spilling out before I can stop myself. “I’ve already made my choice.”
The vulnerability in my voice hangs between us, and his eyes search mine, conflicted. I can see him fighting an internal battle, as though he’s weighing every consequence, every risk. But then, his hand tightens around mine, his fingers lacing between mine. His grip is firm, grounding, as though he’s trying to convince himself that this is real.
Without another word, he leans in, his lips brushing mine with a gentleness that catches me off guard. The world around us fades, and all I can feel is the warmth of him, the taste of his breath on my lips, and the weight of everything left unsaid between us. I feel my hands instinctively reach for him, gripping his shoulders as if afraid he’ll pull away. But he doesn’t. Instead, he deepens the kiss, his touch becoming bolder, more certain.
He moves closer, and I feel the edge of the bed dip under his weight as he slides his hand along my cheek, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger, tracing the line of my jaw before he pulls me toward him again, his other hand slipping around my waist. I can feel the heat of his body, the rapid beat of his heart in time with mine.
“Elio…” I breathe, his name leaving my lips in a barely audible whisper, laced with a mixture of longing and trepidation.
“Grace,” he murmurs back, his voice soft, almost reverent. “I told myself I would stay away from you, that I wouldn’t drag you into this life any further.” His forehead rests against mine, his gaze dark and intense. “But when I’m with you, all I want is this. All I want is you.”
I shiver at his words, a warmth spreading through me that I can’t ignore. My fingers slip to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the roughness of his stubble, the steady pulse beneath his skin. It’s intoxicating, how his control slips away in these quiet moments, how he allows himself to just be here with me.
His lips find mine again, the kiss searing and desperate, as though he’s been holding back for far too long. I lose myself in him, in the way he presses against me, claiming me with every kiss, every touch. My hands explore the planes of his shoulders, the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt, and it’s like touching something forbidden yet exhilarating.
He pulls away slightly, his breathing heavy, his gaze locked on mine. “Are you sure about this, Grace?” he asks, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper.
“Yes,” I say, without hesitation. “I’m sure.”
A flicker of something unreadable crosses his face, but he nods, his hand trailing down my arm, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His touch is careful, almost reverent, as though he’s memorizing every detail. And as he draws me close again, I feel that, for this one moment, he’s let down every wall he’s ever built. For once, there’s no mafia, no rules, just him and me.
The night stretches out around us, filled with whispered confessions, stolen touches, and a closeness that feels as dangerous as it is precious. I know that come morning, reality will pull us back, and we’ll have to face all the reasons this shouldn’t work. But tonight, in this quiet, hidden world we’ve created, none of that matters.