CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
MARIA
Matteo is your son.
I didn’t even realize I had said it out loud until I heard the words echo back at me. My voice was shaky, barely above a whisper, but the weight of it landed with a thud in the middle of Lorenzo’s living room.
He stared at me like I had just grown wings or confessed to being a unicorn. His lips parted, and then closed, and then opened again.
“Matteo is my son?”
It wasn’t a question. Not really. His voice cracked in a way that made something in my chest twist. There was something unhinged in his eyes, not in a dangerous way, but in the way a man looks when he’s trying to hold back joy because he’s afraid it might not be real.
I nodded.
Everything was happening too fast. My head was spinning. One minute, I was admitting I was the mystery girl. The next, he was telling me he’d never stopped feeling something for me even when he didn’t know it was me, and now this? I believed he was not my dad’s killer, somewhere within me. I always knew Shade, the man I had spent that night with, wasn’t the killer. But now, more than ever, I was certain.
Matteo. Our son. His son.
“I always knew he was Shade’s son,” I breathed, my eyes locked with his. “From the moment I found out I was pregnant. But I didn’t know you were Shade. Not then.”
He took a step back like the air had just knocked him over. His hands ran over his face. Then he laughed. It wasn’t cold or mocking. It was joy, cracked open and messy.
“I can’t believe this. I can’t…Jesus. Matteo is my son.”
He kept repeating it like he was afraid it would vanish if he didn’t say it enough times.
He looked up again. I had seen that smile once, years ago, and it was burned into me like the afterimage of staring too long at the sun. He looked like a man who had just been given back the thing he thought he’d lost forever.
“I know I’ve missed so much of his life already,” he said, voice thick with something he couldn’t swallow down. “But I swear to you, Maria, the little time I’ve spent with him, I already love that boy. He’s smart, funny, and so full of questions. He’s everything I didn’t know I needed until I met him.”
My eyes burned.
He took a careful step toward me like he didn’t want to startle me. “I want to be there for him. I want to be his father. Not just in name. I want to show up for him every day if you’ll let me.”
I didn’t speak right away. My mouth opened and then shut. I wasn’t trying to torture him, but for a moment, I felt paralyzed.
He had always been so good with Matteo, even before he knew. Patient. Funny. That rare mix of charm and structure that kids actually respect.
I knew he would be a good father.
So, I nodded.
His eyes widened. Then, without hesitation, he closed the space between us and kissed me.
I didn’t even have time to brace for it. His hands cupped my face and pulled me in like I was the answer to a question he had been asking his whole life. And I kissed him back.
Oh, I kissed him like the world was ending, because for us, that was the end of the world we knew before now.
Years of confusion, pain, longing, and guilt all poured out of me in that kiss. His lips were warm and familiar, yet somehow new. His hand slid to the small of my back and pressed me against him like he was afraid I might slip away again.
And maybe I was. But not now.
Not tonight.
He pulled back just enough to speak against my lips.
“I love you.”
My breath caught before the words even landed. It was like time pulled tight around me. For a moment, I just stared at him, unable to speak and unable to move because everything I’d been trying not to feel came rushing in all at once.
It made everything real.
I thought I had already heard it all and survived it all. But love, when spoken like that—with no conditions, no strategy, no manipulation—hit differently. It stripped me bare. It exposed how much I still wanted him and how deeply I still cared, even after all the betrayal and all the scars.
A war had been raging inside me for days between trust and doubt, anger and longing. And now, with just three words, he’d undone every wall I had rebuilt.
I wanted to touch him. I wanted to fall into him and forget what had happened. I wanted to feel close again, not just with my body, but with every broken part of me that still reached for him in the dark.
Hearing him say it—like that, so raw, so real—I felt a dam inside me start to give way.
I love you.
The words hung there, heavy and soft. They didn’t fix everything. They didn’t erase the pain. But they brought a warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time. They reminded me that even in the wreckage, some things could still bloom.
He didn’t wait for a reaction.
“And not because of some damn inheritance or because of Matteo. I love you. All of you. The smart-mouthed, stubborn woman who terrifies me and turns my brain to mush every time she walks into a room.”
I choked on a laugh.
He kissed the corner of my mouth, my jaw, and my neck. Each kiss was slower than the last like he was memorizing me.
And then his arms swept under my legs.
“Lorenzo!”
He carried me with that ridiculous grin on his face. I was half laughing and half breathless as he walked us toward his bedroom.
“I’m not putting you down,” he warned. “Not now. Not when I finally get to have you.”
His mouth was everywhere, on my cheeks, neck, and collarbone, and I was gasping before I even realized I’d forgotten how to breathe.
Every inch of him felt like something I’d been missing without knowing it. Every sound, every touch, and every breath was laced with something deeper than lust.
This was more. This was everything. And God help me, I wanted all of it.
The moment Lorenzo’s strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the ground, I felt a surge of heat rush through my veins. His grip was firm but gentle, his hands spanning my waist as he carried me toward his bedroom.
The soft carpet muffled his footsteps, and the scent of his cologne, a sharp, woody aroma that always made my knees weak, filled my senses. I tilted my head back, meeting his piercing blue-gray eyes in the hallway.
They were intense and hungry yet filled with a tenderness that made my heart skip a beat.
“You’re mine, Maria. You have always been mine,” he murmured, his deep voice vibrating against my skin. His words sent a shiver down my spine, not just because of the possessiveness in his tone but because I knew, deep down, that I was his, too.
He kicked the bedroom door shut behind him and walked toward the bed, laying me down with a care that belied his ruthless reputation.
Lorenzo was a man of contrasts, cold and calculating to the world, but with me, he was something else entirely. He leaned over me, his shadow falling across my body, and captured my lips in a kiss that was both demanding and worshipful.
His mouth moved against mine with a hunger that mirrored my own, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I parted for him, surrendering to the heat building between us.
His hands were everywhere, yet nowhere, all at once. They moved with intentionality, sliding up my shirt to expose my skin to the cool air of the room.
I arched my back slightly, my breath hitching as his lips trailed down my neck, his stubble scratching gently against my sensitive skin. He pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it aside without breaking eye contact.
His gaze lingered on my chest, his expression one of reverence as he took in the lace of my bra and the curve of my breasts.
“You’re so heavenly, Maria,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. I felt a flush creep up my cheeks, but I didn’t look away. Instead, I reached up, threading my fingers through his dark hair, pulling him closer.
His lips found mine again as his hands moved to my jeans, unbuttoning them slowly and deliberately. I lifted my hips to help him slide them down my legs, the fabric pooling at my ankles.
He kissed his way down my stomach, his breath warm against my skin, his hands roaming over my thighs and hips as if memorizing every inch of me.
When I was left in nothing but my lingerie, he swept me up into his arms once more, his strength both exhilarating and comforting. He carried me to the vanity table, setting me down gently on its cool surface.
The mirror behind me reflected our image: Lorenzo towering over me, his eyes dark with desire, his hands gripping my hips possessively. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, my arms looping around his neck.
“Lorenzo, I need you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with need.
He smiled with a slow, dangerous curve of his lips, and leaned in, kissing me deeply. His hands moved up my body, cupping my breasts through the lace, his thumbs brushing over my nipples.
I gasped into his mouth, my head falling back against the mirror as he sucked one peak into his mouth, his tongue swirling, his teeth grazing. I moaned, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my body arching toward him.
“You taste so good,” he murmured against my skin, switching his attention to my other breast, lavishing it with the same care.
His mouth was relentless, his hands insistent, and I felt myself teetering on the edge of something wild and uncontrollable.
“Lorenzo,” I breathed my voice a plea.
He looked up at me, his eyes burning with a raw, unfiltered desire that made my heart race. “Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice a low growl.
“You,” I whispered, my hands sliding down his back, pulling him closer. “I want you. Now.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips crashed against mine in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, his hands moving to the clasp of my bra, unhooking it with practiced ease. The lace fell away, and he paused, his gaze raking over me with an intensity that made me feel both vulnerable and powerful.
“You’re everything to me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Before I could respond, he kissed me again, his hands moving down my body, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist and the swell of my hips.
He stepped back slightly, his hands gripping my thighs as he spread my legs, positioning himself between them. I felt the heat of his body, the hardness of his desire pressing against me, and I moaned, my hands reaching for him, pulling him closer.
He entered me slowly, his eyes locked on mine, his expression a blend of hunger and reverence. “You’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he began to move, his hips rocking against mine in a rhythm that was both deliberate and frantic.
The mirror behind me reflected our bodies moving in sync, our skin glistening with sweat, and our mouths never far from each other’s.
Lorenzo’s hands gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he thrust deeper and harder, his breath coming in sharp gasps.
“Maria,” he whispered, his voice a plea. “Look at me.”
I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze in the mirror. His expression was raw, and his eyes were filled with a love and desire that made my heart ache. I reached up, cupping his face, pulling his lips to mine in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.
He shifted, changing the angle, his hands moving to my thighs, lifting them higher as he drove into me with a ferocity that left me breathless.
The vanity table creaked beneath us, the mirror shaking with the force of our movements, but neither of us cared. We were lost in each other, our moans and gasps filling the room and our bodies moving in perfect harmony.
“Lorenzo,” I cried out, my voice breaking as the first waves of my orgasm crashed over me. He followed soon after, his body tensing, his lips pressing against my neck as he spilled himself into me, his name a ragged whisper on my lips.
For a moment, we stayed like that, our bodies still joined, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. Then, slowly, he pulled out, his hands moving to my hips, helping me sit up. He turned me gently so I was facing him and pulled me into his arms, holding me close.
“You’re everything to me,” he whispered, his lips pressing against my forehead.
I smiled, my heart full and my body still buzzing with the aftermath of our passion. “I know,” I replied, my voice soft. “And you’re everything to me, too.”
He kissed me again, his lips tender, his hands stroking my hair. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only Lorenzo, his arms around me and his love wrapping around my heart like a warm blanket. And in that moment, I knew that no matter what this was, I belonged because this man right here was home to me.
*****
I woke up at dawn. I didn’t have to be told to know where I was because I had mastered and had been made love to in every corner of this room.
The events of the previous night played in my mind like a vivid dream: the confessions, revelations, and passion. Beside me, Lorenzo’s rhythmic breathing was comforting and peaceful.
Slipping out of bed carefully to avoid waking him, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. My heart skipped a beat when I noticed several missed calls from Luca. Panic surged through me. I needed to let him know about Lorenzo’s innocence. Dialing his number, I pressed the phone to my ear, only to be met with a monotonous beep. His line was dead.
Frowning, I tried the house line. It went straight to voicemail. A sense of unease settled over me. Taking a deep breath, I left a message, my voice trembling slightly.
Something felt off. Not just off—wrong. The kind of wrong that makes your stomach twist before your brain even catches up. My heart was already racing, like it knew something I didn’t.
I tried again. Still nothing. I pressed the home line again, clinging to some hope. It went straight to voicemail. I left yet another message, my voice shaky.
“Luca, it’s Maria. Lorenzo didn’t do it. I have proof. I’m coming home. Right now.”
I would have woken Lorenzo up to tell him about this nudging feeling inside of me, but he would have insisted on going with me, and his relationship with Luca right now isn’t quite rosy. I would just save myself the extra drama and go alone and text him when I am home.
There was no time to waste. I threw on yesterday’s jeans and a hoodie, grabbed my bag, and bolted out the door. The streets were still sleepy.
Even the sun looked confused, peeking out like it wasn’t sure if it should bother. I parked a few houses down and walked the rest of the way. There was no reason, really. Maybe it was a gut feeling. Maybe paranoia. Maybe both.
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
The second I stepped in, something snapped. I saw a figure move out of the corner of my eye, and before I could scream, an arm locked around my waist.
Enrico.
I began to type on my phone before he yanked my hands even harder. My phone dropped. My mouth was covered. I kicked, I flailed, God, I fought. But he was too strong.
I saw his face for half a second before everything faded into black.
When I came to, my head throbbed like a drumline had set up in my skull. Cold concrete was against my back. The air was damp with a faint scent of rust and mold. I blinked up at the flickering lightbulb above me, the kind that buzzed like it had a grudge against silence.
“Mama?” a voice whispered in a shaky tone.
Matteo. He looked frightened, unlike I had ever seen him before.
I shot up, my body screaming in protest.
“Matteo! Baby! Are you okay?”
He nodded, crawling into my arms. I hugged him tight like I could shield him from everything. Like, maybe I could.
“Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?”
He shook his head. “I was scared. I woke up here. Then I saw you.”
God. My heart.
I kissed his forehead, breathing in his scent, still sweet and warm. How could someone bring a child into this madness?
Then came the slow clap.
Enrico stepped from the shadows, looking like the devil stepped out of a wine ad. His suit was immaculate. His smile wasn’t.
“Family reunions. So touching.”
I stood, shielding Matteo. My voice was low and firm. “Let us go.”
He chuckled. “You always did have a flair for drama. Just like your father.”
My stomach dropped.
“Don’t you dare talk about him.”
Enrico tilted his head. “You want the truth? You left that little voice note for your brother that Lorenzo didn’t do it. Well, it is true. Fine. I killed your father.”
Silence. Deafening. My breath caught in my throat. I had not thought about it. I knew it was not Lorenzo, but I didn’t even stop for a minute to think or guess who could be the culprit.
“You… what?”
“He got in the way. He got nosy. So, I ended it. And I framed that pretty boy of yours while I was at it.”
I staggered back like he’d hit me. Matteo clutched my hand tighter.
“You killed him.”
“Correction. I had him killed. I don’t get my hands dirty.”
I wanted to scream. Cry. Rip him apart. But I couldn’t fall apart. Not now. He had my father killed for no reason, his own brother. I wasn’t really a fan of my uncle, but I had always considered him family. I didn’t know he was the goddamn Devil. “Why now? Why all this?”
“Loose ends, Maria. And you’re one of them.”
He pulled a little device from his coat pocket. Pressed something. A red light blinked on.
A timer.
No.
“The bomb’s set for an hour’s time. I have already called Luca. You wanted to tell him the truth? Well, Luca’s on his way. You two can be together, and then—boom.”
I lunged toward him. “You monster!”
Two goons stepped out of the dark, grabbing me before I reached him. Matteo screamed. I fought with everything I had.
“Let him go! You bastard!”
Enrico waved the guards off. “Relax. You’re both alive for now. Let’s keep it that way.”
I dropped to my knees beside Matteo and held him close. He was shaking. I was shaking. I tried to think. Think. THINK.
Enrico walked away like he was heading to brunch, leaving us with the blinking light and the countdown.
I reached into my pocket. My phone was gone.
But maybe I had dropped it before the blackout. Maybe Lorenzo got the message. I was trying, but I didn’t even know if I had hit the send body before I blacked out.
Please let that be enough. This can’t be the end after everything we have been through.