At the estate, I lead her to our bedroom, the door closing softly, shutting out the world.
I turn to face her. “Do you understand why I need you guarded at all times?” My voice is firm, but the anger has faded into something raw, desperate. “You can’t do that, cara. You can’t leave without protection. Greco is out there, and I can’t lose you.”
Her eyes flash. She signs slowly. “I’m not helpless.”
“I know you’re not. That’s not the point. You’re my wife, Liliana. There are people who would use you to get to me. You think I’ll take that chance?”
She holds my gaze, her jaw set, but she doesn’t argue. I step closer, my voice lowering. “You disappear from this house again without telling me, and I won’t be so calm about it.”
Her lips curve just slightly, like she’s holding back a retort, but when I touch her face, she leans into it. The fight between us is still there, but so is something else, something that pulls me closer even when I should be angry.
I kiss her, slow at first, then deeper when she melts against me. Her hands slide up my chest, curling at the back of my neck, and the rest of the world falls away. I lift her easily, carrying her toward the bedroom without breaking the kiss.
By the time we reach the bed, she’s tugging at my shirt, and I help her pull it over my head. My hands skim down her sides, finding the zipper of her dress and easing it down until the fabric pools at her feet. She’s in nothing but lace, her skin warm under my palms, and I take a moment just to look at her.
Then I push her gently onto the bed, my mouth finding hers again as I settle between her legs. Her fingers hook into my belt, and I shed the rest of my clothes quickly, the need to be inside her growing with every breath.
When I finally slide into her, the tight heat of her makes me groan, my forehead dropping to hers. She arches into me, her nails scraping lightly down my back, and I start to move, slow and deep, drawing soft sounds from her lips.
Her eyes find mine, and in them I see everything—her defiance, her trust, her need. I hold her there, kissing her hard, moving with a steady rhythm that builds until her breath comes in quick bursts.
She comes first, her body tightening around me, pulling me under with her. I follow seconds later, burying myself deep, holding her close as the rush fades.
For a long moment, I just stay there, my hand stroking down her side, my breath evening out against her skin.
“You’re mine,” I murmur. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
She doesn’t argue this time. Her fingers rest lightly against my chest, over my heart, and I feel her settle.
24
LILIANA
The mornings feel softer lately. I wake before Giovanni, his arm heavy across my waist, his breath warm at the back of my neck. There is comfort in it, in the steady weight of him beside me, though the comfort is never without its shadow. I lie still, watching the faint light creep through the curtains, and wonder when it became a habit to measure his love in the spaces between his words.
He hasn’t said it in weeks. The words he used to give me freely, almost without thinking, have fallen silent. Not his touch, not his care. Those remain constant, protective and consuming all at once. But the confessions are gone, and I try not to dwell on it, try not to let the absence settle in my chest like a warning.
I love him. I know it now, even if the truth feels too large to say aloud. It sits in me, heavy and certain, and I keep it there, lockedaway. If I give it voice, it becomes something that can be taken, and I’m not ready to know what that feels like.
The days are quieter with him away more often, but Camilla’s presence has shifted from sharp edges to something closer to steady ground. We've found a strange rhythm. It isn’t friendship, not exactly, but there’s a steadiness now where there used to be glass shards underfoot. She doesn’t look at me like I am a trespasser anymore.
She visits without pretense now, sits with me in the sunroom, and listens when I speak, even if my voice catches on the words. Sometimes she even seeks me out, asking for my opinion on a dress or pausing in the hall to share a bit of news. I am still cautious with her, but the wariness doesn’t feel so sharp.
It’s strange to think that not long ago I avoided her like a wound I didn’t want touched.
The speech therapy sessions are still exhausting, but I can hear the difference. Slowly, my voice is beginning to shape words better, and even I can hear the changes in the heavily slurred words. The therapist pushes me to shape the sounds, to trust the air in my lungs, and sometimes I surprise myself. My therapist says I am building strength. That my case would have been better if I was worked with as a child.
Some days the progress feels almost cruel in its slowness, but Giovanni watches every attempt with quiet pride, as if each word is worth more than gold. He never pushes me to speak when I do not want to. He just listens.
The signs of my pregnancy are stronger now. I suspect it's because winter is fast approaching. The nausea comes in waves that can turn without warning, and my appetite changes daily. My body feels different, softer in some places, heavier in others.
Giovanni notices even the smallest change—how I eat, how I move, how I rest—and adjusts everything around me without asking. Some days his protectiveness feels like a shield I’m grateful for. Other days it feels like a cage.
Tomasso has been around the estate more often. I notice the way his eyes follow Camilla when she walks into a room, the subtle lean of his body toward hers when they speak. It’s not overt, but it’s there, the kind of attention that doesn’t need words. Camilla seems unaware, her focus always elsewhere. I watch the two of them sometimes from the corner of my eye, wondering if she would notice if I told her outright.
It strikes me how strange it is, seeing him like that. Tomasso is careful by nature, loyal to Giovanni before anything else. But the interest in his eyes is never guarded. It’s always open, almost unthinking.
Dario is visiting when I decide to say something. He'd come back after Giovanni. I know he's just been with Maria. Their relationship is budding.
