“What kind of run?”
“Delivering a message.” His jaw tightened. “My uncle Vitale was my father’s enforcer. He liked to handle things personally. One night, he pulled me out of bed and told me I was coming with him. No explanation, no warning.”
“What happened?”
“We drove to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. There were men there—three of them. They’d been skimming from one of my father’s operations. Vitale wanted to make an example.”
I held my breath.
“He handed me a gun.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavy and dark. I could see it—a fourteen-year-old Lorenzo, still soft in the edges, standing in a warehouse with a weapon in his hands.
“Did you…?”
“No,” He shook his head slowly. “I couldn’t. I pointed it at them, but my hands were shaking. Vitale laughed and took itfrom me. He said I was soft. That I would never be a real Falcone.”
“Lorenzo…”
“He was right.” Lorenzo’s voice was hollow. “I didn’t want to be that guy. I wanted to be a kid. I wanted to play soccer and chase girls and not know what it felt like to hold a loaded gun.”
I reached out, cupping his cheek. He leaned into my touch, his eyes closing.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t be. It made me who I am.”
“Who is that?”
He opened his eyes, and there was something raw in them. Vulnerable. “I’m a man trying to build something different. The restaurants, the Gilded Cage, that’s all mine. Clean money. Legitimate. I wanted one thing in my life that wasn’t tainted by my family.”
“And you stay out of the rest?”
“As much as I can.” His hand came up to cover mine, pressing my palm flat against his cheek. “But sometimes, I don’t have a choice. I’m next in line, the underboss in our world. My family—they don’t let you leave. You’re either in, or you’re an enemy. I’ve managed to find a middle ground, but it’s… fragile.”
I swallowed carefully. “Your family really is involved in… all of that?”
His eyes flicked toward mine. “What exactly do you think my family does, Tesoro?”
I hesitated.
“People talk,” I admitted softly. “And I’m not stupid.”
A humorless smile crossed his face. “No. You’re not.”
The room fell quiet again, tension threading slowly between us.
I looked down at our intertwined hands. “If I’m your wife…” My voice came out smaller than I intended. “Am I part of that world too?”
I didn’t know what to say. So instead, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.
It was soft. Gentle. Nothing like the rough, desperate kisses we’d shared before. This was a promise. A question. A beginning.
Something darkened in his expression immediately.
“That’s exactly what I don’t want.” His voice dropped even lower. “Being close to me comes with risks, Zara. If I step out of line, or if someone wants to get to me, they use the people I care about as leverage. Wives, even girlfriends, have been threatened before. Sometimes worse.”
The certainty in his tone caught me off guard.
