Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
"I don't want to ever risk making you think, even by accident, that I'm ashamed of you. Or that I don't want to be seen with you. I just hate seeing you hurt in any way—-" Her voice suddenly broke. "And I hate it the most if I'm the one to hurt you—-"
"You haven't hurt me," he gritted out. "You've never wanted to hurt me—-"
"But I can. Can't I?"
He finally realized where this was going.
"Others can't ever hurt you," she choked out, "but I know I can."
And even though a part of him wanted to push her away—-
"Because you love me, too."
Lorenzo was tired of hiding from the truth.
"Don't you?"
His wife gave her a teary smile.
"Wait here. I have something to give you."
She went away and came back in mere moments, a journal in her hands.
"I want you to read this."
His heart slammed hard against his chest.
A part of him was still terrified.
And that part of him was hell-bent on self-harm.
It would rather destroy his only chance at happiness than risk rejection.
Her expression turned uncertain when he remained unmoving. "What is it?"
Alright, God.
For almost his entire life, Lorenzo had been afraid to trust God.
But this time, he would take another chance.
And so he, too, pulled out what he had hidden in a secret safe.
His wife was in shock as he took her journal and gave her his in return.
"Shall we read it together?" he asked quietly.
She was crying again as she nodded, and she was crying even harder when she finished reading what he had written.
"Oh, Renzo."
He got to his feet just in time to catch her as she threw herself in his arms.
"I don't think I'll ever deserve you."
"Then you're an idiot."
She laughed and shook her head.
"Oh, Renzo."
Her voice caught.
"I love you, so, so—-"
The rest of her words disappeared in a kiss that bound their souls as one.
He couldn't yet give her the words, but what he could do now was show her.
I love you.
Because love was the reason he was the only one able to pin her against the wall—-
I love you.
And have the right to take her in a way that she would have found terrifying if it had been any other man.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
He still couldn't give her the words, but he knew she heard it from his soul and felt them with every possessive thrust of his body.
I love you.
I love you, Gazelle.
And I will never stop loving you.
Epilogue
MY FAMILY ARRIVES AT our home en masse, and as soon as everyone finds a seat, Lorenzo doesn't waste any time playing the video file saved in the memory card I got from Viktor.
The CCTV footage is obviously taken from an underground gambling den, and a tall, dark-haired man has just come up to the cash cage with a tray of chips.
"The date stamp is four months ago," Cesare observes broodingly.
This means Giancarlo isn't yet missing...but the thought only makes me feel even more nauseous for some reason, and I realize why as a conversation takes place between the money handler and the man waiting for his payout.
He's one of them, I think sickly.
The audio is faint but discernible, and every word is absolutely damning.
Whoever this man is, he's bragging about a chopper engine he's successfully tampered with. He's good as admitted to being involved in a plot to have my eldest brother killed, and when the camera zooms in on the receipt the man has to sign before receiving his payout—-
LA
It's the initials the man has scribbled down, and I realize right away it's no coincidence that the man's profile bears a striking similarity to my husband's build.
But what I don't get is why.
"He was like a brother to all of us," I whisper. "Why would Viktor want Giancarlo killed? And why choose to frame Lorenzo for it?"
"Because he wasn't lying when he said he loved you," my husband says flatly.
I'm about to protest and say he's gotten it all wrong...until I see in everyone's eyes that it's the other way around.
"I've just received word from immigration," Ezio informs us curtly. He's taken over Giancarlo's responsibilities when it comes to the security of our famiglia. He's exceptionally good at it, too, but none of us, Ezio included, feels right about him doing something that used to be our eldest brother's role.
(Come back, Giancarlo, please!)
"Viktor's already on a flight en route to the Carribean. He knows we're on to him."
The islands are Bianciardi territory. There's no way we'll be able to bring him to justice from there.
"So what now?" Sarica asks.
I can't help but feel uneasy at how quiet her tone is. She's almost always easy to read, but nothing ever good happens on the few times she isn't.
"We do as we always do." My grandmother's voice is tightly controlled, but it's her eyes that expose her pain. "We wait. We prepare. We pray. Giancarlo is not dead...and we will not stop until we find him."