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Something tells me there will be plenty of other photos of Giana and Remi, though—especially now that she’s living with us and under our protection. It’s been a huge change for all of us, but it isn’t like I don’t have the space at my place.
And it’s been good for both Giana and Remi—having each other so close by. They went through something so fucked up and life altering…and they went through it together.
She packs a box and signals to one of my men that he can put it out in the SUV. She looks sexy as fuck in her tight yoga pants and crop top. And I love that she never hides the scar etched into her shoulder. She calls it her battle wound, and it’s true.
My woman is a fucking fighter.
And there’s nothing sexier than a woman who takes no shit.
Especially when she was raised to be anything but.
We’ve had a long few months since her kidnapping, and she’s been in extensive therapy for a majority of it. In the beginning, she went three times a week, and now she’s down to two.
We’ve slowly started incorporating sexual intimacy back into our routine, but it’s never something I push. When she tells me she wants it, I give it to her—no questions asked. But I’m not taking it from her without her consent or approval. What she went through has changed her.
And I might be a selfish prick, but I love this new version of her. The one that’s no longer afraid to disappoint people, no longer afraid of what people might think of her. She’s strong and beautiful and knows exactly what she wants.
I’m just the lucky fool that gets to be in her world.
I just hate—fucking loathe—what it took for her to get to this point.
Besides, I’ve learned there’s more to life than fucking and running. And I think it’s helped me grow as a man, too. All those wasted nights pounding into pussy while I was searching for something—anything—to make me forget about my dead wife. About the way my world shattered when I found her.
But the whole time…
The whole fucking time…
I was searching for the woman who’s now in front of me.
And the connection we’ve started to grow is unlike anything I’ve ever known.
A simple fucking touch of her fingertips on my skin is like a drug in my veins.
“You need help with anything, angel?” I ask her, grinning when I see that rock on her finger. Knowing this woman is mine for the rest of her life.
I’ve saved her before, but something tells me she won’t need to be saved again.
She’s got it handled.
“Yes, actually!” She turns to me after she packs something away. “Remember the whole locked-floor thing?” She points to the bolt cutters I’ve brought with us in one of our bags. She hadn’t told me much aside from the fact that she wants something and the place her items are located is padlocked. “There’s a bathroom on the floor above us. My mother once mentioned she stored my baby towels in there. Can you grab them? I know it’s silly, but maybe one day—”
“Say no more.”
She walks over to me and wraps her arms around my neck.
“God, I cannot wait to be Mrs. Giana DeSantis.”
She nuzzles her nose against mine, and I agree with her before kissing her. She deepens the kiss, and I have to force myself to pull away, knowing we’ll never get out of here if we keep this up.
But damn, she tastes so fucking good.
We’re eloping soon. We haven’t decided where or when, but this is the last order of business needed to close out this chapter of our lives before moving on to the next. I’d marry her any fucking day of the week. And now that we’re almost done with this, we can officially move on and do it however the fuck we want to.
I grab the cutters and leave her to pack as I think about her with a swollen, round belly. The thought of her carrying my child inside her womb makes my heart thump with an entirely different purpose.
But then I think about the possibility of being caught by an Amato guard, and I realize how quickly my internal switch can flip. I may have grown soft…but only for her.
I’m ready to take somebody out if they even so much as look at me wrong.
