Love

As soon as my top button is fastened, I swing my legs off the bed and storm toward the door—only to stop short. No, that’s too impulsive. I need a plan. Something more calculated. More extreme.

Lucian has been avoiding me. Not just in the quiet, sulking way men sometimes do when they’re angry, but with deliberate precision. Rolling out of bed at the crack of dawn, locking himself in his office for hours, and only gracing me with his presence when duty requires it. And at night? He sleeps two feet away as if the very thought of touching me is repellent.

I should ignore him. Let him stew in whatever storm brews behind those dark eyes. But I can feel the rage simmering under his restraint, growing stronger each time I turn my back on him in bed. It’s not enough to get a rise out of him. Not yet.

So, maybe I need to escalate things.

I’ve spent the last few days in silent defiance, but clearly, Lucian won’t cave. I’m running out of options. I can’t force him to let me leave—I don’t exactly have the means to hold a knife to my husband’s throat and demand my freedom. But I can manipulate the situation. And that’s where Enzo comes in.

By the time I reach the garage, I’m committed to my new strategy.

Enzo is bent over a table of disassembled assault rifles, his oil-stained vest clinging to his broad shoulders as he meticulously cleans each piece. He doesn’t hear me approach at first, so I take my time, pasting on a sultry smile and letting my eyes linger over him just enough to unsettle him.

When he finally notices me, his gaze flickers—once over my body, then up to my face. His eyes widen slightly, lingering on the scooped neckline of my tank top. Good.

“Are you busy?” I croon, planting my palms on the other side of the table, just enough for him to have a clear view of my cleavage when he glances up.

He frowns, clearly wary. “I was just finishing up, Signora. Do you need something?”

I round the table slowly, dragging my fingers along the cool metal. “Actually, yes.” I tilt my head, nibbling at my bottom lip. “I was hoping you’d drive me into the city. I know Lucian doesn’t think it’s safe, but I trust you to protect me.”

Enzo stiffens, his fingers tightening around the gun in his hand. “That’s not a good idea, Signora. The don has given clear instructions that no one is to escort you off the property.”

I sigh dramatically, jutting out my lip in a pout. “Please, Enzo. Help me out here. I’m losing my mind being cooped up for so long. Just a quick trip back to civilization, and then you can bring me home again. Safe and sound.”

He chews over my words in silence, his hands methodically working on the rifle. I don’t need him to actually say yes—I just need him to look conflicted. And from the way his gaze keeps darting to the security cameras, I know my performance is being watched.

Then, as if summoned by my very thoughts, the garage door slams open.

Enzo leaps back, dropping my hand like I burned him.

Lucian stands in the doorway, radiating fury.

His dark eyes cut through the space between us like a blade, his attention zeroing in on where my hand had just been on Enzo’s bare arm. His jaw clenches so tight I half expect to hear his teeth crack.

“What the fuck is this?”

Before I can react, he strides forward, gripping my wrist in a punishing hold. “Explain,” he demands, directing his question at Enzo.

The capo remains eerily calm, as if he’s faced death a hundred times before and has learned to meet it without fear. “She wanted me to take her into the city, Don Lucian. I think she believed she could seduce me into agreeing.”

“I put my hands on him first!” I snap. “Put the fucking gun down. Jesus! I didn’t actually think you’d want to kill the guy.”

Lucian doesn’t lower his weapon.

“Leave us,” he finally orders, his voice low, dangerous.

Enzo nods once, striding toward the door without hesitation. The moment he’s gone, I wrench my wrist from Lucian’s grip. “I was doing exactly what Enzo said I was doing,” I snapped, crossing my arms.

He scoffs, raking a hand through his hair. “You did this to bait me.”

“No, I did this to prove a point.” My voice rises with frustration. “I won’t sit quietly while you cage me. I’m losing my mind, Lucian! And you’ve made no progress in hunting down Riccardo. So how long do you plan to keep me trapped like an animal?”

His nostrils flare. “As long as it takes.”

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “You can’t actually think your men would ignore direct orders just because I pushed out my tits and batted my eyelashes a couple of times. Or did you do this just to punish me?”

Lucian moves closer, his fury pulsing between us like a living thing. His gaze flickers downward, catching on the way my arms press my breasts together.

Jealousy is a vicious toxin in his veins. I see it in the way his fingers twitch, in the way his breathing turns shallow.

“I heard you the first twenty times you asked, Aurora. The answer is still no.”

I roll my eyes, but the moment I move to step past him, he grabs my waist, pinning me against the table.

"You belong to me,” he growls. “Do I need to brand it on your fucking ass before you accept that?"

For a brief, heated second, we just breathe. My pulse hammers as I stare up at him, my body betraying me with the way it leans into his. But I refuse to yield.

“You can’t spank me until I forget why I was mad this time, Lucian.” My voice is quieter now, but no less defiant.

Something flickers in his expression—something I can’t quite place. But before I can analyze it, he releases me and steps back, jaw clenched.

"Go back to our room,” he orders. "And drop these ridiculous schemes to get me to change my mind. I’m trying to protect you.”

I don’t respond. I just turn and walk past him, feeling his gaze burn into my back.

And for the first time, I think I might have finally

"Principessa," I murmur, my voice soft as I reach across the table, my fingers brushing over Aurora’s pale hand. She doesn’t pull away, though her lips remain pressed into a flat line. But there—just barely—a flicker of something in her gaze. A small spark of life. I tell myself it’s enough.

I sigh, rubbing my thumb in slow, soothing circles over her knuckles. "I know what I said," I admit, my voice quieter now. "That it was too risky. That keeping you safe meant keeping you hidden. But I didn’t expect…" I pause, swallowing against the tightness in my throat.

Aurora’s fingers twitch under mine.

"I didn’t expect seeing you like this would hurt more than anything Riccardo could do to me," I finish, forcing a dry chuckle. "Who would have thought your zombie moping would wear me down more than your usual schemes?"

The ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. It’s barely there, but it’s enough to send a sharp pang through my chest.

"I want to take you into the city," I continue, voice firm despite the unease curling in my gut. "Just for the day. Give you a chance to breathe a little."

Aurora’s brows knit together, hesitation flickering across her features. "What are you saying, Lucian?"

I squeeze her hand. "I’ll take you myself. But you have to promise to stay by my side at all times. We’re not taking any chances."

For a long moment, she just stares at me. Then, slowly, she turns her palm over, interlacing her fingers with mine. When she speaks, it’s barely above a breath.

"I promise."

The naked gratitude in her face hits me harder than I expect. Without thinking, I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a reverent kiss against her soft skin. "Anything to see you smile again."

---

Aurora is practically vibrating with excitement by the time we pull out of the estate. I try to contain my smirk as she pays close attention to every turn, studying road signs like she’s mapping out the journey in her head. It’s adorable—like watching a caged bird realize the door has been left open.

Enzo and Gabriele follow discreetly behind us, their presence the only thing keeping me from glancing over my shoulder every five seconds. I trust them to keep watch, but that doesn’t stop the unease from coiling low in my gut. The Agostis are still a threat. They always will be.

But even that can’t dampen Aurora’s joy.

As we wind through the streets of Manhattan, she cranes her neck to take everything in. The towering buildings, the flashing billboards, the bustling crowds. She drinks it all in like a tourist rather than a woman who once called this place home.

"Giulia recommended an art exhibit," I tell her, watching her out of the corner of my eye. "Thought we could check it out. Then maybe some shopping?"

Aurora turns to me, her face bright with something I haven’t seen in too long. "That sounds perfect."

---

We spend hours wandering through the gallery. Aurora flits from painting to painting, her eyes alight with curiosity as she studies every brushstroke, every sculpted detail. She tells me what she sees, what she feels, her voice animated in a way that makes my chest ache.

Giulia was right. She’s having the time of her life.

Standing before an abstract piece that stretches ten feet across, I wind an arm around her waist, pulling her against me. She doesn’t resist. Instead, she leans into my chest with a contented sigh, resting her head right over my pounding heart.

I close my eyes for a brief moment, allowing myself this fleeting second of peace. Of pretending we’re just another couple, lost in the beauty of a city that doesn’t belong to us.

But reality always finds a way to creep back in.

"This way, principessa," I murmur, pulling her down a quieter street.

She follows without question, letting me guide her to the next destination.

A vintage-style boutique stands before us, its wide windows displaying delicate lace and shimmering silk under the warm glow of chandeliers. Aurora’s lips part in surprise.

"Shopping?" she asks, turning to me with a raised brow.

I smirk. "I believe I promised you, didn’t I?"

With a chuckle, I push open the door, ushering her inside. The shop is empty, just as I requested. Giulia’s friend owns the place and agreed to close it for the afternoon. A silent invitation for Aurora to indulge without the weight of watchful eyes.

She moves through the space like a woman enchanted, her fingers trailing over the luxurious fabrics. I settle into a velvet armchair, nodding a silent greeting to the shop assistant before turning my gaze back to my wife.

It’s rare to see her like this—relaxed, unguarded.

When she finally emerges from behind the dressing curtain, I go still.

A mouthwatering web of black silk clings to her like a second skin. Intricate ribbons wind over her torso and down her thighs, teasing me with every scrap of bare skin left exposed.

My mouth goes dry