Without Armor

Killian

I would have felt less vulnerable on an open battlefield without armor.

One knee on the wet concrete of the back patio, dampness seeping through my expensive slacks, my entire staff gaping, their wide-eyed stares burning holes in my skin—it was all scarier than a shootout on my last leg.

Kneeling before the woman who removed my armor in the first place, I knew I wouldn’t want to put it on again. I liked who I had become thanks to Sera. She trimmed the thorns I’d grown over my heart to shield it from both bullets and emotions. Through her defiance and kindness, she found my humanity—and made me want to keep it until the day I died.

My mother would be horrified. It didn’t matter if she and Caterina used to be close friends. There was too much bad blood between them, between the Riccis and Bianchis, for Mother to ever come to accept Sera as my wife.

My wife. My heart skipped like a schoolboy with a crush. Serafina Ricci. It had a ring to it.

She would officially become the new, t