Chapter Thirty-seven #2
She was right every time she accused me of shutting her out. I told myself it was protection. That if she didn’t see the darkness, it couldn’t reach her.
Lie.
My princess never wanted to be sheltered from my world.
She wanted to stand in it with me.
And now that world just grew teeth.
I step out of the car and close the door quietly. The night air is cool, calm, almost mocking in its peace. The house glows warm against the dark, windows lit, safe.
Too safe for what I’m carrying inside my chest.
I unlock the door and slip in.
Milkshake lifts his head first, ears twitching. Pancake cracks one eye open, decides I’m not important enough to stand up for, and drops his head back down. Their tails thump once in lazy acknowledgment.
Ungrateful little traitors.
Ever since Serena and the twins arrived, I’ve been downgraded to background staff. Food provider. Occasional backup lap.
Fair.
I move through the house quietly, the hardwood cool under my shoes, the air smelling faintly of baby lotion and whatever candle Serena burned earlier. Soft. Warm. Domestic in a way that still feels unreal in my hands.
Upstairs, behind one of those doors, is the only thing in this world that ever made me want to be better than what I was raised to be.
And tonight, I’m walking up those stairs not just as Lorenzo.
Not just as the man who loves her.
But as the man who just inherited a legacy built on power, loyalty, and consequences.
And I have to ask the woman I love if she’s ready to stand beside me in it.
I open the babies’ room first.
They’re asleep, tangled in soft blankets, tiny chests rising and falling in perfect rhythm. Moonlight spills through the curtains, painting silver across their faces. So small. So peaceful. So unaware of the world waiting outside these walls.
My chest tightens.
I don’t deserve this.
I don’t deserve them.
I don’t deserve her.
But I swear to God, I’ll spend every day left in my life becoming a man worthy of being their father. Worthy of standing beside the woman who gave them to me.
I close the door quietly and walk to the master bedroom.
She’s asleep on her side of the bed, wrapped in one of those lace nightdresses she loves, the kind that barely counts as clothing. She’s been torturing me with them since the first night I moved back in. Sometimes I think she doesn’t even realize what she does to me.
But the truth is, she could wear a sack and still bring me to my knees.
Because what I feel for her stopped being just desire a long time ago.
It went from craving her body, to craving her presence, to needing her to need me, to something deeper than hunger. Something that lives under my skin and doesn’t let me breathe right when she’s not close.
She stirs, lashes fluttering open, blonde hair messy across her cheek.
And the sight of her almost undoes me.
Because I’m so far gone it’s not even funny anymore.
I’m addicted to the sounds she makes when I have her close, the way my name leaves her mouth in soft, desperate waves, like she can’t keep it inside. The way she clings to me, like the world outside doesn’t exist.
The way she moans my name like the good girl she is, open and unguarded, giving herself to the moment without holding anything back.
But what really gets under my skin, what really fucks me up, is how she looks at me after. Eyes hazy, cheeks flushed, still close enough that our breaths mix.
Like I’m not just the man who touches her right.
But the one she trusts to stay.
After everything.
After me.
And I need to be worthy of that.
Which means I have to tell her the truth.
“Hey,” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep.
I sit on the edge of the bed. She pushes herself up slowly, then swings a leg over me, settling into my lap like it’s the most natural place in the world to be. Her thighs wrap around my waist, warm and familiar.
I drop my forehead against her chest and breathe her in.
Vanilla. Skin. Home.
I have no idea how this is going to work.
All I know is that I can’t lose her again.
And I’m terrified that telling her what I’ve become might be the thing that does.
Her fingers slide into my hair, gentle, guiding my head up until I’m forced to look at her.
Those brown eyes.
Clear. Soft. Stronger than I’ll ever be.
“What’s wrong?” she asks quietly.
If I could trade places with every bad thing that’s ever come near her, I would do it in a heartbeat. I’d stand between her and the world until there was nothing left of me. And if the last threat still standing was my own name—
Fuck.
I still wouldn’t leave. Because her life without me in it feels like a punishment I wasn’t built to survive.
“We need to talk.”
The words scrape out of me like they’re cutting their way up my throat.
Her eyes sharpen instantly, studying my face, searching for damage before I even speak it. She’s always been able to read me too well. It makes lying impossible.
“I’ll talk first,” she says softly.
I nod, even though every muscle in my body feels wound too tight. My hand moves on instinct, brushing her hair back and tucking a strand behind her ear. I need to touch her, just to remind myself she’s still here.
She takes a breath, but it takes her a second to find the courage to speak.
“Talk, love,” I murmur.
Her gaze locks onto mine, and something in my chest twists painfully. My mind jumps to the worst place immediately.
She can’t be ending this. She wouldn’t be sitting in my lap if she was, right? But then again. . . Serena has always been braver than anyone I’ve ever known.
“I forgive you,” she says.
I freeze.
Of all the things I expected, that wasn’t it.
Fuck. The timing couldn’t be worse.
“Do you want to hear what I have to say before you continue?” I ask carefully. I want to hear every word she’s about to give me, but she deserves the truth first. All of it.
Her brow lifts slightly. “Did you cheat on me?”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Short. Disbelieving.
“No.” Not even a question. “Never.”
The thought alone makes my stomach turn. There has never been anyone else. There will never be anyone else.
“Then no,” she says, a small smile touching her lips. “I don’t want to hear your confession first.”
God, she has no idea how big that confession is.
“Okay, love,” I say quietly. “Go on.”
She shifts in my lap, settling closer, like she’s grounding herself before stepping off a cliff.
“I forgive you, Lorenzo,” she repeats, softer this time.
My voice comes out rough. “Why?”
Her eyes search mine like she’s making sure I’m really here, really listening.
“First I wanted to say because I love you.”
Panic flashes through me so fast it steals my breath. “You don’t?” I ask before I can stop myself, already bracing for impact.
Her hand cups my cheek, warm, steady, and I lean into it without thinking.
“Of course I do,” she whispers. “But that’s not the only reason.”
I swallow hard and wait.
“I forgive you because I understand,” she says. “I understand why you did what you did. I don’t agree with how you handle things, but I understand the place it comes from.”
Her thumb brushes over my skin, soothing something raw inside me.
“I’m grateful you protected me,” she continues quietly. “Even if the way you did it hurt me.”
That hits deep.
“I forgive you,” she says again, “because even though I love you more than I can explain, I know you love me even more.”
She’s right.
She has no idea how right.
“And now that I know what it feels like to be loved by you, to have a family with you,” Her voice trembles just slightly. “I want that. Despite everything.”
Her forehead rests against mine.
“I want you, Lorenzo,” she whispers. “With your darkness. With your mistakes. With everything.”
My chest feels too tight to breathe.
She’s choosing me.
Not the version of me I wish I was.
The one I am.
“Fuck,” I growl, my voice thick, rough with everything I’m holding back. “The things I’ll do for you.” My hands tighten, claiming, feeling her soften into my touch. “The things I’ll do to you,” I add, watching the way she leans into me like she was made to fit right here.
She starts grinding against my cock, slow at first, then with more need, and it takes everything in me not to lose control right there.
“I tell you I love you all the time,” I murmur near her ear, voice low and sure, my hold firm like I already know she’s not going anywhere. “But tonight, love, I’m done being sweet about it.” A soft exhale, almost a smirk. “Tonight you’re going to feel exactly how much.”
I squeeze her again, pulling her closer, making her feel exactly what she does to me.
“I told you before I’d ruin you for every other man,” I remind her, my voice dark, possessive. “That you’d only see me, dream of me, crave me.”
She moves against me harder now, desperate, needy, and the friction is almost painful in the best possible way.
“Yes,” she whispers, breath shaky, like she feels every word.
“But you ruined me, love,” I tell her, my hands sliding over her ass, slow, reverent, like I’m memorizing her. “You ruined me for every other woman in this world. None of them even come close.”
I tilt her chin up so she has to look at me, has to see what’s in my eyes.
“Everywhere I look, I see you,” I say quietly but intensely. “My heart, my loyalty, my wealth, everything I am, everything I have, it’s yours.”
My thumb brushes along her jaw while my other hand grips her ass again, grounding myself in the feel of her.
“I’m yours, Serena. Do whatever the fuck you want with me,” I confess, and there’s no teasing in it, no arrogance, no mask. Just truth, stripped bare and breathing hard between us. “Love me. Hate me. Fight me until we’re both wrecked. Break me if you need to. I don’t fucking care.”
I press my forehead to hers, like I need the contact to stay upright, like the world might tilt if I lose it. My hands tighten at her waist, not to hold her in place, but because I don’t know how to stand without touching her.
“I’m all yours, love,” I murmur, my voice rough, thick with everything I don’t know how to say cleanly. “Not just the good parts. Not just the man you see when I’m calm. All of it. The mess. The temper. The damage.”
My thumb brushes her cheek, slower now, almost reverent.
“My body is yours. My soul is yours. Every fucked-up piece of me that doesn’t belong anywhere else, belongs to you.”