Chapter 18
Angelina
I must have dozed off on the couch because I woke to the sound of the penthouse door opening. I was on my feet instantly, heart pounding, before I registered Dez's voice.
"It's just me, sweetheart."
He looked tired. Still in the suit he'd worn this morning, but with his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. There was a hardness in his eyes that hadn't been there when we left Santorini. I crossed to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his chest.
"Hey," he murmured, holding me tight. "You okay?"
"I'm fine, better now that you’re home." I pulled back to look at him. "What happened? Did your team find anything at the building?"
"Two devices. One in your office, hidden in the ventilation system. One in the parking garage near your assigned spot." His jaw tightened. "Both would have detonated remotely. Professional grade, not something Vincent could have acquired or placed himself. He’s too much of an idiot."
"He hired someone."
"Yeah. And we're going to find out who." He guided me back to the couch, keeping his arm around me.
"The bomb squad disabled both devices. The building is secure.
Your office is secure. Matvey's coordinating with Seattle PD to increase patrols around the area. And there’s a lockdown preventing anybody without special access to reach the CEO floor. "
"And Vincent?"
"Currently in custody on the embezzlement charges. But this—" he gestured vaguely, "—this is attempted murder. Once we trace the bombs back to him, he's looking at life in prison."
"If we can prove it was him."
"We will." Dez's voice was certain. "I have people looking into his finances, his contacts, anyone he might have hired. We'll find the connection."
I leaned against him, letting his solid presence calm my racing heart. "He really tried to kill me."
"I know." He pressed a kiss to my hair. "I'm sorry. I should have moved faster, should have handled security at your place before the wedding. At your workplace, too."
"Stop." I pulled back to meet his eyes. "You did everything right. You got the evidence, you protected my friends, you made sure we were safe. You can't control a desperate man doing desperate things."
"I can make sure he never threatens you again."
The way he said it—flat, final—made something cold settle in my stomach.
"Dez. What are you planning?"
He was quiet for a long moment, his gray eyes searching my face.
"Nothing you need to worry about," he said finally.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I can give you right now." He cupped my face in his hands. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course I do."
"Then trust that I'll handle this and keep you safe. When it's over, Vincent will never be able to hurt you or anyone else again."
I wanted to push. Wanted to demand details, to know exactly what he was planning.
But looking into his eyes, seeing the determination there mixed with something darker—I realized I didn't want to know. He’d warned me that we’d get here, and I told him that I would understand when he couldn’t give me details.
I’d told myself that I wouldn’t marry him if when this moment came, I couldn’t handle letting go.
This was his realm, not mine and I had to respect that.
"Okay," I whispered.
"Okay?"
"I trust you." I kissed him softly. "Do what you need to do."
He pulled me close again, holding me like I was something precious. "I love you. Everything I'm doing is to protect you."
"I know."
We sat there in silence for a while, just holding each other, until my phone buzzed with an email notification.
Maya had sent over the paperwork—contracts hiring Moretti Security Solutions as official consultants for Castellano & Co., complete with scope of work and payment terms.
"I need to review these and send them back," I said, pulling up the documents on my phone.
"Do it tomorrow." Dez took my phone and set it aside. "Tonight, you rest. You just survived what Vincent thought was a hostile takeover and two assassination attempts in one day. You're allowed to take a break."
"I can't just?—"
"Yes, you can." He stood and pulled me to my feet. "Come on. When's the last time you ate?"
I tried to remember. "Breakfast? On the plane?"
"That was twelve hours ago." He led me to the kitchen. "I'm making you dinner. Real food, not the stress coffee and adrenaline you've been running on."
I watched him move around our kitchen with surprising competence, pulling out ingredients, heating a pan.
Within twenty minutes, he'd made pasta with a simple garlic and olive oil sauce, garlic bread, and a salad. In the three months I’ve known him, he’s never cooked a single thing. I wasn’t counting warming up leftovers.
"You can cook," I observed.
"I can make about five things. This is one of them." He set a plate in front of me. "Eat."
I did, and the warm, comforting food helped settle my nerves. We ate in comfortable silence, and slowly I felt the tension of the day ease.
"There seems like there’s so much to do." I asked when we'd finished.
"You have time. Maya, who will do whatever you need.
The board is behind you now, so you have them.
You have the evidence to undo anything he did.
And you have resources, including my family's connections, my security team, whatever you need.
" He took my hand. "You're not doing this alone anymore, Angelina. "
"I'm still getting used to that." I laced our fingers together. "For so long it was just me. Me against Vincent, me trying to save the company, me trying to survive. Having backup feels... strange."
"Good strange or bad strange?"
"Good strange." I smiled. "Very good strange."
His phone buzzed. He glanced at it, his expression darkening.
"What is it?"
"Vincent made bail. He's out."
My stomach dropped. "How? The charges?—"
"Vitale family lawyer. They posted his bond." Dez was already typing something. "I need to make a call. Go take a bath, try to relax. I'll be there in a minute."
I started to protest, but the look on his face stopped me.
I kissed him and headed to our bedroom, hearing him dial as I closed the door.
In the bathroom, I filled the enormous soaking tub and added the expensive bath salts Dez kept stocked for me.
Steam rose as I sank into the hot water, trying to let it melt away the stress. But my mind kept spinning.
Vincent was out on bail. Free to run, to hide, to try again. Free to hire more people to plant more bombs. Free to destroy everything I'd fought to protect. Unless Dez stopped him first.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about what that might mean. Tried not to imagine my husband doing things that could get him put away for a long time. Making choices that would change him. Making choices for me, because of me.
The bathroom door opened and Dez entered, already stripping off his clothes.
"Room for one more?" he asked.
I shifted forward and he slid in behind me, pulling me back against his chest. His arms wrapped around me and I let myself relax into his warmth.
"What did you find out?" I asked quietly.
"Vincent's lawyer is good. Got him released on a million-dollar bond, posted by a Vitale family account." His hands moved slowly over my arms, soothing. "But he's required to wear an ankle monitor and can't leave the county. He's being tracked."
"So we know where he is."
"Always." His lips brushed my temple. "He can't run. Can't hide. Can't make a move without us knowing."
"And then what?"
"Then I handle it." His arms tightened. "I told you, sweetheart. He's never going to threaten you again. I meant it."
I turned in his arms, water sloshing, until I could see his face.
"I need to know something," I said. "When you say 'handle it'—are you talking about legal consequences? Or something else?"
He didn't look away. Didn't pretend to misunderstand.
"That depends on him," Dez said quietly. "If he takes the prison time, accepts his fate, leaves you alone, then legal consequences are enough. But if he keeps pushing, keeps threatening, keeps trying to hurt you…" He tilted his head, but didn’t say anything. The implication was enough.
"Then it becomes something else."
"Yes."
I should have been horrified. Should have pulled away, should have demanded he promise not to do anything that would haunt him.
But I wasn't. And I didn't. Because Vincent had planted bombs. Had tried to kill me twice in one day. Had spent months terrorizing me while I struggled alone. He’d thought that it was okay to kill me. Why was he exempt from the same terror?
"Okay," I said. "Whatever you need to do. Whatever keeps us safe." I kissed him softly. "I trust your judgment."
"Angelina—"
"I mean it." I cupped his face. "I'm not na?ve, Dez. I know what your family does. I know the world I live in now. And I know that sometimes legal consequences aren't enough to stop someone who's desperate and dangerous."
"You might feel differently when it's done."
"I won't." I was surprised by how certain I felt. "Because you're doing it to protect me. To protect us. And I'll never fault you for that."
He kissed me then, deep and claiming, and I felt the tension in his body start to ease.
"I love you," he murmured against my lips. "So goddamn much."
"I love you too." I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Now can we please just forget about Vincent for a few hours and focus on the fact that we're supposed to be on our honeymoon?"
He smiled, that wicked smile that never failed to make my stomach flip. "Say less."
His hands slid down my body, relearning curves he'd worshipped not long ago in Santorini. Though it felt like a lifetime ago.
"We're going back," he said, his fingers finding sensitive places that made me gasp. "To Greece. Once this is handled, once you're safe, we're finishing our honeymoon properly."
"Promise?"
"Promise." He lifted me easily, and lowered me slowly onto his erection. "But for tonight?—"
"For tonight we're here," I finished, moaning as he filled me. "Together. Safe."
"Safe," he agreed.
Later, wrapped in soft towels and lying in our bed, I stretched against him completely exhausted again.
I yawned, "God, I'm tired."
"Sleep. Everything else can wait until tomorrow."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to keep planning, keep preparing for whatever came next. But my eyes were already closing, my body surrendering to exhaustion. The last thing I felt was Dez's arm around me, solid and protective. The last thing I heard was his voice, quiet in the darkness.
"I've got you, Angelina. Always."
And I believed him.