De Rossi is standing just outside the library. In my haste to go after Cleo, I nearly run into him. His eyes move to Cleo’s retreating form before he levels his gaze back on me. “I don’t think she wants to talk to you right now.”
“I know.” When I first saw her, she looked at me like she wanted to incinerate me, like I was something unholy that had crawled back from the dead.
“What now?”
Great fucking question. I rake my fingers through my hair. I’m not going back to New York. I lost the first battle, but I came here prepared for a long war. I’m not giving up.
“Let me stay here for a few nights.”
De Rossi drags his tongue over his teeth and shakes his head. “Cleo made it clear she doesn’t want you here.”
I bite on the inside of my cheek, tamping down the strong urge to tell him to fuck off. He didn’t have to let me into his house, but I managed to convince him. Barely. It won’t take much for him to rescind that permission.
“I still have things I need to say to her.”
“Why didn’t you say them, then?” he asks, his voice razor sharp.
I was supposed to but she ran from me before I could.
When she took off the ring, I lost it. It felt so utterly wrong that I knew I’d do anything to get her to put it back on, and so I did. I got down on my knees for her, begged and pleaded and prayed. It worked. Thank fuck, it worked.
That ring is a symbol of everything we were, everything we still can be. I want her to think of us whenever she looks down at it.
I have to convince her I’m worth another shot.
Tomorrow, I’ll try again.
“If you want to win her back, you’re going to have to try harder,” De Rossi says firmly. “She’s hurt. Thanks to you, she blames herself for what happened with Nero.”
“Believe me, I know. I fucked up.”
He stares me down even though we’re the same height. “I can’t tell her the truth about Nero.” He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t have to.
He can’t tell her about Nero, but I can.
That would require me to trust Cleo fully. I know De Rossi, Ras, and Giorgio know how to keep a secret. They wouldn’t be where they are today if they didn’t, and it’s in their interest to protect their business partner. They’d gain nothing from ratting me out to Gino.
Cleo’s never had to guard information like this before, and she’s angry. Knowing the truth might only make her angrier. I’ve let her believe Nero is dead for weeks. I would be putting my fate and the fate of my family in her hands.
Am I willing to risk everything to get her back?
My father would never do something like that, but my sisters are right. I’m not him. I can be a better man than the one who raised me.
“Give me a few days. If I can’t get through to her in that time, I’ll leave.”
De Rossi blows out a breath, contemplating the request.
What the fuck am I going to do if he says no? Find a hotel nearby? Show up here every day until Cleo agrees to see me again? She’ll probably ask De Rossi to set his guard dogs on me. Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that.
After a while, he nods. “Fine. There’s a guest bedroom down the hall from the library. I’ll tell someone to bring your things.”
“I’ll do it.”
He turns to leave, and I call after him. He halts. There was a time I’d rather cut out my tongue than say the next two words to him, but now it seems like a small price to pay to be allowed another chance to win Cleo over. “Thank you.”
His jaw tightens. “Three days, Messero. That’s all you get.”
The next morning, I walk into the dining room around eight a.m. feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. I didn’t sleep well, I don’t like being De Rossi’s guest, and I just want my fucking wife back. But my frustration isn’t helpful, so I shove it away.
Valentina is sitting alone at the table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. She hears me enter and shoots me a cold glare. “If you’re hoping to see Cleo, you’ll have to wait. She doesn’t have breakfast until much later.”
“I know. She lived with me for four months, remember?”
Valentina purses her lips. I pull out a chair and sit down. A maid appears and comes over to fill my coffee cup before asking what I’d like to eat. I request two hardboiled eggs and a side of smoked salmon. The maid leaves, and Valentina stands up, tucking her book under her arm.
“Be very careful,” she warns. “If you upset her, I will kick you out. Cleo is my sister, and I will not allow you to mess with her.”
“I don’t think there’s a way around upsetting her. We have difficult conversations ahead of us.”
Valentina’s eyes narrow. “You’re lucky she’s not very good at hiding her feelings from me. If I thought she was truly over you, I wouldn’t hesitate to make you leave. But she’s not.”
I sit up straighter. Her words inject a much-needed dose of hope into my veins. “What do you—”
She shakes her head. “I’m not helping you win her over. That’s on you. Damiano told me he gave you three days. Use them wisely.” She stalks away.
“I’m planning on it,” I mutter to the empty room.
That’s why I’m here this early. I don’t want to take the chance I’ll miss her when she comes down. If all I have are three days, I’m going to be around her as much as I can. We need to talk and I have to find some way to make her listen.
I finish my breakfast and down a few cups of coffee while I wait for Cleo to wake up. Just before ten, she shuffles into the dining room in an oversized T-shirt dress, her hair tousled, and her mouth open on a yawn. The sight hits me right in the chest. This is how she used to look in the mornings when she woke up to say goodbye to me before I left for work. My gaze drags over her body, all the way down to her exposed legs.
Where did she get that tan? What has she been doing in Italy? The thought of her lying in a bikini on a beach, her perfect body on display for anyone to see, sends a surge of possessiveness through me.
When she sees me, she halts. Her expression goes from neutral to dismayed before settling on reluctant. “You’re still here.”
I press my napkin to my lips. “I am.”
I’m half expecting her to turn around and walk out of the room, but she surprises me by taking a seat across the table from me.
“Who’s running things while you’re gone?” she asks, her voice clipped.
“Alec.”
“Oh, I remember him from my birthday party.” She reaches for the bowl of fruit salad. “He’s one of your capos.”
“He’s been promoted to my underboss.” I didn’t have an official underboss until now because Nero always played the part of my second-in-command.
Cleo’s gaze darts to me. “I’m surprised you trust him enough to run things while you’re here.”
I do, and I don’t. Alec is loyal and smart, but he needs more experience before he can even come close to the standard set by Nero. A few weeks ago, leaving him in charge of my family would be unthinkable, but I didn’t even hesitate to do exactly that two days ago. The only thing that mattered was getting here. Getting to Cleo.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
She scoops some fruit onto her plate. “You always have a choice. You can go home.”
“You are my home.”
She halts, her spoon midair. Pain flashes across her expression, like my words physically hurt.
“If you keep saying things like that, I’ll have no choice but to ask Damiano to kick you out,” she whispers, putting the spoon down, her gaze on her plate.
“I can’t. Not until you and I finish our conversation.”
Her lips purse into a thin line. “Rafaele, honestly. What are you hoping to accomplish? There’s no path forward for us.”
“I disagree.”
“Do you think I can just forget that you tossed me away at the first sign of trouble?” she says harshly, trying to mask her hurt with anger, but she doesn’t quite succeed.
I stand up and walk over to sit in the chair beside her. She stiffens when I place my hand on her forearm, but she doesn’t pull away.
“A lot went wrong that day. I couldn’t handle the thought of you being hurt, and I acted in ways I regret.”
She stares at my hand. “That’s not all it was. You reacted very differently when I got hurt when we got attacked at Il Caminetto.”
“Yes, but that was before—”
Forest-green eyes flit to me, a question written in them. “Before what?”
My pulse skitters and I swallow. It feels like every word coming out of my mouth is critically important. I’ve sat in many negotiations where that’s been the case, but this is the first time I’ve been this fucking nervous.
“At Il Caminetto, I was in control. I knew I could protect you. But when I got the call from your father, I had no idea where you were or who you were with. I didn’t know how to find you. I couldn’t trust your father to keep his word, and yet I couldn’t ignore his demands. I couldn’t be in two places at the same time. It was torture to imagine you being hurt while there was nothing I could do. It’s why I called Ferraro. I was desperate.”
A tiny bit of sympathy seeps into her expression. “You were?”
“Yes. And I didn’t know how to handle it. I never learned how to process my emotions. I only learned how to shove them away and pretend they didn’t exist. That’s what I had to do to survive my father. It’s what I had to do to make sure my mother survived him too.”
She frowns, a line appearing between her brows.
“The sheer intensity of my feelings for you overwhelmed me,” I continue. “It was like being hit with a tidal wave and being dragged away by the strongest current you could possibly imagine. I retreated somewhere safe.” I drag my palm down her forearm and take her hand. “I’m not saying this to justify how I treated you, Cleo. There is no excuse. But I think if I want there to be a path forward for us, I have to be more open with you.”
Surprise flickers inside her gaze. I curl my fingers between hers. She lets me, but she doesn’t return the gesture.
“I talked to my sisters about you. About everything.”
“What did you tell them?”
“The truth about why I am the way I am.” I clear my throat. “It was far overdue. You said my mother told you about what happened when I was a kid?”
Cleo nods. “She did.”
“I don’t know what specific details she shared.”
Her face softens. “She said your father beat her and forced you to witness it. If you cried, he’d keep going. He made you learn how to lock your feelings away.”
“Did she tell you about the rape?”
She pales. “What? No.”
It doesn’t surprise me that Mamma didn’t tell her that part. A prickle of resistance appears in the back of my head at sharing our secret with one more person. Even though our relationship is irreparably broken, my mother has always held out hope for me. And I know she would understand my reasons for sharing this information with Cleo.
“My father raped her in front of me. Forced me to watch.”
Cleo’s mouth falls open. She squeezes my hand hard. “Oh my God. Our wedding night…”
“I…” There’s an ache in my throat. “I decided a long time ago that I’d never be like him. I would never hurt the people I’m supposed to protect. Ever.”
Tears well up in Cleo’s eyes. I want nothing more than to pull her against me and kiss those tears off her cheeks, but I restrain myself. I haven’t earned that yet.
“But I did. I hurt you with my actions and my words.”
She curls her lips over her teeth and muffles a sob.
I squeeze her hand tighter. “I know that I’m broken. I know. But I need to tell you what I should have told you a long time ago. The feelings I have for you are bigger than anything I’ve ever experienced. They used to terrify me and make me feel out of control, but not anymore. I’m ready to embrace them. Until I met you, I never realized how much of me died in that dark bedroom. But then you waltzed into my life and showed me what it’s like to truly be alive. And now I can never go back to how I was before.”
She heaves a breath, her eyelashes fluttering.
My heart is beating so hard it threatens to break through my ribcage. “Cleo, when I look at you, I see the entire universe. It took losing you for me to understand that you are everything to me. There might have been a ‘before’ you, but there is no ‘after’. I can’t function without you. I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I can barely fucking breathe. Without you, I exist in a horrible dark place that’s devoid of everything that makes life worth living. Please come back to me. I love you.”
A tear escapes and carves a path down her flawless cheek. I catch it with my thumb and slowly brush it away.
Her breathing turns ragged, and my gaze drops to her parted lips. I need to kiss her the way I need air, but before I even move an inch, she pulls out of my grasp.
She stands up, pushing her chair back with a loud squeak, and turns to leave. “I have to go.”
No.
I rise out of my seat. “Please don’t run away from me.”
She halts and slowly looks at me over her shoulder. “Rafaele, I need some time to think. This is a lot. Give me space. Please.”
What am I supposed to say to that? “Cleo—”
Before I can come up with anything, she shakes her head and slips out the door.
I rake my fingers through my hair.
She said she needs space…but she didn’t ask me to leave again. That’s progress, isn’t it? I might be getting through to her. But if I push too hard, she might pull back again.
I sink back down in my chair and drag my hands over my face. She wants space? Then I have to give it to her. I’ll give her whatever she wants. Because I’m not the one calling the shots anymore.
She’s in control.
