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And I'd already put her through so much.

And there was more to come.

Somehow, she'd come to mean more to me than a means to an end. Much more.

Marrying her was no longer about pissing off the judge or securing the House of Diamanti's legacy.

I'd planned everything so carefully.

But I hadn't planned on her.

She was turning out to be nothing like I expected and still surprised me with her intelligence, strength, grace, and beauty. The idea that I'd once assumed I would sideline her after we married and she'd served her purpose was laughable.

I no longer wanted her out of revenge.

I wanted her because she had become my obsession.

My addiction.

The realization hit me with unsettling clarity: I would destroy anyone who tried to take her from me.

Not because I loved her in the traditional sense—men like me weren't capable of that kind of love—but because she had become essential to me. Like air. Like blood.

She belonged to me in a way that transcended mere ownership. The thought of her with anyone else clawed at my insides.

Was this love?

Perhaps not in the way she dreamed of.

But it was the closest a man with my darkness could come.

And that would have to be enough.

I would see that she wanted for nothing, and soon we would have children to fill her heart. Children who would carry my blood and bind her to me permanently, ensuring she could never truly escape.

But first I needed to get her down the aisle.

Although Plan B was to simply use Arcangelo's connections to certify a marriage with or without her explicit consent, I would prefer a more public "love match" wedding for the judge’s and the paparazzi’s benefit. Also, given the judge's recent rash actions, a grander gesture would be required.

Clearly, he was more threatened by her than I'd calculated.

A larger formal engagement followed by an even bigger wedding. A show with Sabrina as the star attraction. And for her to truly sell it, she needed to believe it. Needed to believe that I was the Prince Charming she'd envisioned in her childhood dreams.

I could play that part, especially if it got her in my bed for good.

It only sweetened my revenge.

Taking her hand, I kissed the back, letting my lips linger a beat too long, my teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp. "Please, dolcezza."

"The opera doesn't even start for several hours," she sighed gently.

"Not for us."

"What do you mean?"

"Come and see." I savored the words, knowing she'd hear the challenge in them.

After helping her alight from the car, I closed the door behind her and escorted her into the building, my fingers splayed possessively against the curve of her spine, dipping dangerously low.