When She Loves (The Fallen, #4)(109)
He nods. “Gino bought it. We have a truce, although things between us are still tense. They have to be. Gino wouldn’t believe that I’d just forget he made me kill my closest friend. Cleo, Nero doesn’t blame you for any of this. He said that to me just before we said goodbye. I think he’d want you to know.”
It’s like a dark veil has been lifted from my eyes. My throat is dry, but relief blooms inside of me. “You couldn’t kill him.”
A sad smile appears on Rafaele’s face. “I couldn’t kill him. I always said I’d do whatever it takes to defend my rule, but I was lying to myself. I’m not my father. He didn’t love anyone, and he thought that gave him power, but if that’s what power means, I don’t want it.”
“What do you want?” I whisper.
Rafaele crosses the short distance between us and wraps his arms around me. His gaze—so bright, so vulnerable—pierces through me. “I want to make you deliriously happy. I want to give you everything. When I first agreed to marry you, I thought I’d tame you. I was so confident, so sure you’d pose no challenge to me, but I was so damn wrong. I didn’t tame you. You are the one who conquered me—thoroughly and completely. I am not the man you married, not anymore. But if you give me a chance, I will be the husband you deserve.”
A sob escapes me. I press my cheek against his shirt, and he tucks the top of my head under his chin. His palms travel up and down my arms, comforting me. He smells so damn good.
Like home.
I wrap my arms around Rafaele’s waist and allow my body to melt against his. A satisfied grunt rumbles deep inside his chest, and he holds me tighter. The last of my hesitation fades away. We stand like that until the concert ends. Until the doors open and people come flooding outside. Until the moon kisses the horizon and a sprinkle of rain touches my skin. My vision is blurry, but my chest is light.
Rafaele pulls back just enough to search my face. He drags the pad of his thumb over my cheek, his eyes full of warmth. “I love you, tesoro. Please come home with me.”
I rake my fingers through his hair as my stomach does a flip. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing him say those words. He stares at me like I’m the most important thing in the world, and I realize in that moment that I believe it.
For the first time since he arrived in Italy, I smile at him. “Okay. I will.”
Relief floods his expression, and he doesn’t waste a second before he leans down and claims my lips in a kiss.
EPILOGUE
RAFAELE
When the sun rises the next morning, I feel like a completely different person. I went from being a miserable bastard to being the luckiest man in the world. Cleo is coming back to New York with me. There’s a weird stuttering inside my chest at the thought of having her in my home again.
Our home.
I plan on telling her she can redecorate all she wants. We’ll even get a damned dog if it makes her happy, but under the condition that the creature will make no attempts to keep me away from her.
My bag of clothes is sitting by the closet, so I pull on a shirt and a pair of pants and leave the guest bedroom in search of my wife. I tried to convince Cleo to spend the night with me after we came back from the concert, but she refused, telling me she wanted to take it slowly. My stomach sank with disappointment, my body not at all onboard with that idea. Still, I knew I couldn’t push her last night. She’ll come to me when she’s ready.
I’m ten feet away from her room when the door opens, and she pops out in a black tank top and a pair of cut-off jean shorts. I have to hold back my groan. Fuck, she looks good enough to devour.
She sees me and smiles, but it fades when she notices the expression on my face. I must look like a predator eyeing its prey.
I walk up to her, trying to act normal and failing. My fists clench. I want her so fucking badly. I can’t believe the nonsense I told myself about getting bored with her. That’s never going to happen. I’m obsessed and I’m always going to be fucking obsessed.
Cleo’s eyes follow me, and when I stop right in front of her, they drop to my lips. The smattering of freckles across her nose is more prominent from the sun she’s been getting here. I want to kiss each one of them. I want to run my fingers through her hair and feel the softness of her skin. I want her writhing beneath me, begging me to fuck her. My dick jolts at the visual.
She bites on her bottom lip. “You’re staring.”
“I know.” I raise my hand and brush a strand of hair behind her ear.
Her eyes grow hooded, and she leans into my touch. “Kiss me.”
My skin buzzes. I press my lips to hers, possessive and hungry. Her hands go around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair as she opens her mouth to me. I groan at the feel of her tongue teasing mine and lose myself in her sweet taste.
We announce our reconciliation shortly after.
Everyone’s over at De Rossis’ for brunch, and when Cleo breaks the news that she’s coming back to New York with me, there’s a full gamut of reactions. Valentina’s eyes narrow on me in a skeptical glare, Gemma gives me a pleased smile, and Mari lets out a breath of relief.
The men manage to hide their feelings better, with the exception of Ras, who opens his big mouth and says, “Are you sure, Cleo? If you want to ask us to dispose of him, now’s the time to do it.”