Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
Nero
E verything seems to be happening in slow motion, from the moment Sebastian pointed the gun at Sofia to those three words echoing in my mind.
I love her.
I’ve never felt so terrified, so utterly helpless, as when she looked at me, tears streaming down her face, blood drying on her skin.
It felt like the end. The end of whatever this is—this fragile, thrilling, confusing thing between Sofia and me. All I could do was pray for her, hoping he would at least grant her a quick death. One pull of the trigger, and she wouldn’t even feel it.
Then that red dot appeared.
The gunshot that rends through the air throws the entire dock into chaos.
Sebastian lets out a bloodcurdling scream as the bullet blasts the gun from his hands, his fingers flying off in a rain of blood. One of the soldiers near me spins around in confusion, and I seize his gun in one swift motion.
I manage to take out one before the sniper downs the rest. Ahead of me and in the middle of everything stands Sofia, as beautiful as ever, blood stained, and pale as a ghost.
“Sofia!” I shout, my voice hoarse, and her eyes finally meet mine. But she doesn’t move.
Shit, she’s in shock.
“You bastard! You just don’t die, do you?” Sebastian roars, reaching for another gun on the ground with his uninjured hand.
His eyes are wild and furious, and I realize at that moment that he plans on not missing this time around. He plans on going for my heart, and we both know who holds it. The green-eyed woman standing right beside him.
I aim at him and pull the trigger, but all I hear is a hollow click. The gun’s empty.
“Sebastian, no!” I’m sprinting toward them as fast as my battered body allows. “Sofia, Sofia!”
She turns as he gets closer, his twisted smile growing as he lifts the gun in his trembling left hand. Even with his bad aim, from that distance, he can’t miss.
“Catch, Castello!” Amato, who has been watching this deadly drama unfold, calls out. He tosses a gun in my direction just as I launch myself at Sofia.
Sebastian fires.
I slam into Sofia, crashing into her with brutal force, and at the last second, I twist, taking the full impact of the fall.
“Ugh,” I grunt, the rough ground tearing at my shoulders and elbows, but none of it matters. None of it, because she’s safe.
I raise my hand and aim straight at Sebastian.
“Goodbye, asshole,” I say with a grin, and unlike him, I don’t miss.
The bullet drills a clean hole through the center of his forehead. For a split second, he looks shocked, and then he drops, dead at last.
My head falls back to the ground and a rumble of laughter rolls out of me.
“Nero?” A sweet voice calls my name, and I lift my head to meet her gaze. The perfect heart-shaped face, those mesmerizing green eyes, and a mouth that could inspire sonnets. “Did we make it?”
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” I say instead, my hand cupping her jaw as I gently tuck stray tendrils of hair behind her ear.
Her lashes flutter, and she leans into my touch, nuzzling my hand with a soft, contented sigh.
“He’s dead. You’re free,” I tell her gently.
Her eyes search mine. “And you? Are you free?”
I swallow hard. Now that Sebastian is gone, I can reclaim everything that was supposed to be mine from the start. Most of the men already back me, and the rest will fall in line. My whole life has been leading up to this—avenging my father, seizing what I’m owed. But finally, here, all I can think about is wrapping Sofia in my arms and disappearing with her to some distant corner of the world.
“Yes,” I tell her. “But I’m beginning to think that freedom isn’t as great as I thought it would be.”
“If you two are done lying around in the middle of a gunfight, you might want to move,” Amato’s voice interrupts, standing over us with an impatient look. “The cops will be here any moment.”
When I had contacted Carmine Amato a few days ago and laid my plan bare to him, no pretenses and no middlemen involved, he had stared at me blankly for minutes afterwards and then walked out.
I had no idea what that reaction meant, and I had concluded that I couldn’t count on him.
“Why did you do it?” I ask as I climb to my feet.
He shrugs shoulders that are a bit too wide for his frame. “I don’t like you, Castello. No—let me correct that, I don’t know you. I knew your father, though. He was a good man. But I’m yet to see what you are. Honestly, I’m not impressed at you playing around with someone’s wife.”
“Last time I checked, your dear, valued chef is married,” I snort. “And I hear her services aren’t limited to the kitchen.”
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. My hand instinctively reaches for my gun, while my other arm pulls Sofia behind me to shield her.
Then, unexpectedly, his mouth twitches. “Maybe I should take a page from your book and put a bullet in his head. She’s too good for him anyway.”
I smile, even though my face aches from the bruises. “If you need any help, you just have to ask.”
Amato studies me for a moment before extending his hand. “Maybe I will.”
With one arm slung around Sofia, keeping her close to my side, I watch him walk away, knowing this won’t be the last time we cross paths.
“He scares me,” she confesses quietly. “There’s something about him.”
I turn to face her, brushing a thumb gently over her cheek. “I don’t want to talk about him. At least, not right now.”
She swipes her tongue over her lips, looking suddenly nervous. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Us.”
“What about us?”
“I listened to you say your own piece earlier today, and it’s time you listened to what I have to say, too.” I pull her closer till our bodies are pressed together in a perfect fit, like the last two pieces of a puzzle.
She blinks at me, eyes sparkling with curiosity. They remind me of that day at the greenhouse when she asked me why I came back. We’ve really come a long way since then.
“The only thing I’ve ever wanted for you—and still want—is for you to have a choice,” I tell her. “I don’t want to be another Sebastian in your life, or some version of your father. I want you to choose me, not because I’m the only option left or because you’ve been backed into a wall. I want you to choose me because you want me.” I pause, my voice dropping. “Because I want you, Princess.”
“I know,” she smiles softly.
“Please let me say this.” I brush my mouth against hers, featherlight and reverent.
“Okay.”
“When you told me you loved me, I should’ve said it back. Hell, I should’ve said it first. But I didn’t, because I didn’t want to be selfish with you.” I sigh. “Or maybe I was lying to myself, pretending I was being selfless when, deep down, I was just a coward, and I was trying to tell myself I wasn’t in love with you.”
She makes a choking sound. “You’re in love with me?”
“Yes, Princess, I’m in love with you,” I confirm. “I confess. “I don’t know when it started, and I don’t even know if this is what love’s supposed to feel like. I just know that... I’m undeniably incapable of being away from you, and—” I trail off, swallowing.
“I’ve always prided myself on being a man with a plan, knowing all the answers. But with you, the more questions I answer, the more there seem to arise. I know every inch of you, and yet it feels like I don’t know anything at all. I’ll never stop marveling at how extraordinary you are. And I want to spend the rest of my life finding those answers.”
“We’ll find them together,” she whispers against my lips. “We’ll figure everything out together.”
“And what if we don’t?” I ask, the fear gnawing at me. “What if you’re just caught up in the chaos, and your feelings for me are... because I was there when?—”
She presses a finger to my lips, silencing me. “Sh.”
“Sofia—”
“Just stop,” her voice is firmer now. “I know what I want, Nero, and what I want is you. You are the first real decision I’ve ever gotten to make on my own. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m messing this all up and I should run as fast as I can towards my freedom with my arms wide open, but this is exactly where I want to be. With you.” Her eyes are steady on mine. “I’ve spent my whole life craving freedom, thinking it was running off into the sunset. But now I see that it can be a person. Someone who gives you the space and support to achieve and explore everything you want.”
“I’ll never cage you, baby girl,” I say, lifting her chin so she can see the truth in my eyes. “You deserve the world, and I’ll give it to you—or stand back and watch you take it.”
She flings her arms around my neck, laughing with delight. “Can we get another cat? And a dog? Maybe a rabbit. I’ve always liked rabbits.”
I can already see a future with our house overrun by animals. Our . That word feels so right. Something inside my chest settles, and I smile.
“Okay.”
“You should at least put up a bit of a fight, Nero. You can’t just give me everything I want.”
“I’ll stop you when you start asking for a pet crocodile,” I assure her, nipping at her neck. She trembles in my arms, and a soft sigh slips out of her mouth.
“What do you think of snakes?”
“No reptiles,” I warn.
“You’re being discriminatory,” she chides.
“We need to get you to the hospital, or I’ll have Davide get you a doctor. You need your head looked at.”
“Who’s Davide?” She blinks at me, then her gaze shifts down to my bruised face. “You need a doctor more than me. You look terrible.”
I grin, pressing my lips to hers. “Is that any way to talk to your—” I pause, realizing I don’t know what to call myself. Boyfriend feels too small, too simple for what we are.
“We can figure it out later,” her voice breaks into my reverie, and then one side of her mouth pulls up. “I have a list of places I want to visit.”
“Anywhere but the U.S.,” I grumble.
She pulls away, pouting. “But that was first on my list! What’s your problem with the U.S.?”
I can’t help but kiss her again, this time I making sure to lick into that sweet mouth and dragging out a moan or two from her. She tastes divine as usual, and I can never get tired of kissing her.
“They’re uncultured,” I say when we pull apart.
“Uncultured?” She laughs, slapping my chest playfully. “You wore jeans and boots to my wedding.”
“I’ll wear a suit to the next one,” I promise.
“You’d better,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me. “I’m not going to say ‘I do’ to a man in distressed jeans.”
I make a face. “I do not wear distressed jeans.”
Just then the sound of sirens fills the air and, up ahead, I can see police lights flashing.
“That’s our cue,” I tell her, turning toward the water.
“Wait—are we supposed to swim across the ocean?” She stares at me in disbelief. “I love you, Nero, but honestly? I’d rather get arrested.”
I throw my head back in laughter, her horrified expression priceless. “Don’t worry, Princess. There’s a boat.”
She plants a hand on her hip and glares at me. “And?”
I pull her in for one last kiss, savoring her taste. “And I love you too.”