17. Adriana
ADRIANA
The light wakes me, pale morning sun filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and for a moment I don't remember where I am.
Then I feel the weight of Lachlan's arm across my waist, the solid warmth of his body pressed against my back, and everything comes rushing back.
Last night. The tattoo. The sex. The safe word.
Someday. My body aches in places I'd forgotten could ache, a deep, pleasant soreness that makes my face heat even though there's no one to see me blush.
The fresh tattoo on my hip throbs with a sharper pain, and when I shift slightly, I can feel the bandage he must have put on while I was sleeping.
He took care of me. The thought makes my throat tight.
I should get up and go back to my own room before Matteo wakes and comes looking for me. I should put distance between us, think about what happened and figure out what it means.
But Lachlan's arm tightens around me before I can move, pulling me closer against him. "Don't," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep. "Don't pull away from me. Not yet."
"Lachlan—"
"Please." His mouth is at my shoulder, pressing a kiss there that makes me shiver. "Just stay. Just for a little while."
I should say no, remind him that this doesn't change anything, that we still have so much to figure out, that Matteo could wake up any moment and come looking for me.
But I don't. I let myself relax back against him and feel the solid warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing.
I let myself have this moment before reality crashes back in.
I missed him so much. As afraid as I am of all of this, I'm weak for it, too. As weak as he is when it comes to this. I longed for him, and last night showed me what I could have if I gave in.
He's all I ever wanted, and he's here. I don't want to let him go yet, either.
"I've wanted this for so long," he says quietly as if hearing my thoughts. His voice makes my chest ache. "Do you know how many nights I lay awake imagining what it would be like to wake up next to you? To have you in my bed, in my arms, where you belong?"
"Lachlan—"
"Ten years, Adriana." His hand splays across my back, holding me against him. "Ten years of dreaming about this, having you back."
I close my eyes, feeling the sting of tears. "We never got to have this before."
"No." His voice is rough. "We didn't. Your father made sure of that."
The memory of that night comes back—being caught in the garden, my father's rage, Lachlan's desperate lie to save my life. "I thought about you every day," I whisper. "Even when I tried not to. Even when it hurt too much."
"I know." He presses another kiss to my shoulder, then my neck, and I can feel the scrape of his stubble against my skin. "I know. I felt the same way."
We lie there in silence for a few minutes, and I let myself memorize the feeling of this—his body against mine, his arm around me, the morning light making everything feel soft and unreal.
"I want you here," he says finally. "In my room. In my bed. Not down the hall in a guest room like you're a visitor. You're my wife, Adriana. You belong here with me."
My stomach swoops with a mixture of desire and fear. "Lachlan—"
"We've already done this." His hand moves up to cup my breast, and I can feel myself responding despite my hesitation.
I feel his cock against my thigh, hard with his morning arousal, so close to my entrance I could wrap my leg around his and take him inside of me.
I want to. "We've already been together.
I want to wake up next to you every morning.
I want to fall asleep with you every night.
I want you here, where I can touch you, where I can keep you safe. "
"It's not that simple." I look at him, and the intensity in his blue eyes makes my breath catch. "Matteo—"
"What about him?" Just like that, the desire in the air between us cools, reality shoving its way back in.
"He's confused enough as it is." I reach up, touching Lachlan's face, feeling the roughness of his stubble under my palm. "He doesn't understand what's happening. He's scared. He misses his uncle, even though Gio was terrible to us. This is all so much change for him."
"He'll adjust." Lachlan's jaw tightens under my hand. "Kids are resilient."
"He's nine years old, and his entire world has been turned upside down." I can hear the desperation in my own voice. "He needs stability. He needs time to process everything. If he sees me moving into your room, sleeping in your bed—he's going to have questions I don't know how to answer yet."
"So we tell him the truth." Lachlan's hand moves to my hip, careful to avoid the fresh tattoo. "We tell him that we love each other. That we're a family now."
"Are we?" The question comes out before I can stop it. "Are we really a family, Lachlan? Or are we just two people who loved each other once and are trying to figure out if there's anything left?"
I feel the flinch that ripples through him, naked hurt in his green eyes. "How the fuck can you say that?" he murmurs. "After last night? There's everything left. Everything, Adriana. I love you. I've always loved you. That never changed."
I swallow hard, tears burning in my eyes all over again.
I don't know how I have any left. "But we did.
We both changed. You became this—this dangerous man, this killer, and I became—" My voice breaks.
"I don't even know what I became. A prisoner.
A victim. Someone who let her brother control every aspect of her life because she was too afraid to fight back. "
"You survived." Lachlan's thumb wipes away my tears, and his touch is so gentle it makes me cry harder. "You survived, and you protected our son. That's not weakness, Adriana. You're brave. And you aren't a victim here. You know that."
"I feel like I don't know who I am anymore, or what I want, or if I can even trust my own feelings."
"Then let me be strong for both of us." He pulls me closer, and I can feel his heart beating against my chest. "Let me take care of you. Let me prove to you that this is real, that we can have this."
I want to say yes. God, I want to say yes so badly it hurts. But I think about Matteo, about how fragile he is right now, about how much he needs stability and security and time to adjust to this new reality.
"Give me a little more time," I whisper. "Please. Just a little more time to help Matteo adjust. To help him understand that you're not a threat, that this is safe. And then—" I take a shaky breath. "And then we can talk about me moving in here. About being a real family."
Lachlan is quiet for a long moment, and I can see the conflict on his face.
The desire to push, to claim, to take what he wants warring with the understanding that I can see there, too.
He wants to give me choices, and he understands why I'm asking.
But it's hard for him to give ground, just like it's hard for me to trust.
"How much time?" he asks finally.
"I don't know." I'm being honest, even though I know it's not what he wants to hear. "However long it takes for Matteo to feel safe and to trust you. For him to understand that this is his home now, and that you're his father, and that we're not going anywhere."
"And you?" His hand moves to my face, cupping my cheek. "How long until you feel safe? Until you trust me?"
The question makes my chest tight, because I don't have an answer.
I don't know if I'll ever feel completely safe again, after everything that's happened.
I don't know if trust is something I'm capable of anymore.
But I can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the fear that I'm going to pull away from him completely, and I can't do that to him.
"I'm trying," I say softly. "I'm trying, Lachlan. That's all I can promise right now."
He stares at me for a long moment, and then he nods slowly. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay." He leans in, pressing his forehead against mine. "I'll give you time. I'll give you whatever you need, Adriana. Because you're worth waiting for. You've always been worth waiting for."
The words break something open inside me, and I'm kissing him before I can think about it, pouring everything I can't say into the press of my mouth against his.
He responds immediately, his hand sliding into my hair, holding me close as he deepens the kiss.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"We should get up," I whisper. "Before Matteo wakes up and comes looking for me."
"I know." But Lachlan doesn't let me go. "Just a few more minutes."
So I give him that. I give us both that.
A few more minutes of pretending that this is simple, that we're just two people in love, that the world outside this room doesn't exist. And as he pulls my leg up over his thigh, notching himself slowly into me despite the soreness in us both, I give myself over to the pleasure.
—
By the time I make it back to my room and get dressed, I can hear Matteo moving around in his room down the hall. I knock softly on his door, and when he calls out for me to come in, I find him sitting on his bed, still in his pajamas, looking small and uncertain.
"Morning, baby," I say, sitting down next to him. "How did you sleep?"
He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. "Okay, I guess."
"Just okay?"
"I had bad dreams." His voice is small. "About Uncle Gio. About the men with guns."
My heart clenches. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. That must have been scary."
"Are we really safe here?" He looks up at me finally, and the fear in his eyes makes me want to cry.
He burrows closer to me, burying his head against my arm, and I can feel him shaking slightly.
"I don't want it to be scary again. I don't want to get hurt again.
My arm hurts. And…" He looks down where the bandage on his side is, under his shirt. "I just wanna be safe, Mama."
"We're safe." I pull him against me, holding him close. "I promise you, Matteo. We're safe here."
"But what if—"