Chapter 23
I stand in Daniel's bathroom, towel-drying my hair after a quick shower.
The warm water washed away the evidence of our lovemaking, but nothing could erase the memory of his hands on my skin, his mouth against mine.
My body still hums with the afterglow, muscles pleasantly sore in ways I've never experienced before.
When I step back into the bedroom, Daniel is sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand. He's pulled on his boxers and pants, but his chest remains bare, the scars I traced with my fingertips still visible.
"Everything okay?" I ask, adjusting the borrowed t-shirt he gave me. It smells like him—clean laundry and that subtle cologne that's become so familiar.
Daniel looks up, his expression tight. "Damiano's called. Twice."
My stomach drops. Reality crashes back with brutal force. "What did you tell him?"
"Nothing yet." He sets the phone down beside him. "I don't care if he knows we were together, Lu."
I move to sit beside him, my still-damp hair leaving a wet patch on his shoulder. "Daniel..."
"I know what you're going to say." His voice is controlled, but I can hear the frustration simmering beneath. "That this was just once. That you're still marrying Bruno in five days."
The truth of his words stings. "You know I have to."
"Do you?" He turns to face me, eyes intense. "Four hundred employees. The casino license. The Russians. I understand the stakes, Lu. But at what point do you get to choose your own life?"
I shake my head, throat tight. "You know Damiano would never let this happen. If he found out about us?—"
"Let him come for me." Daniel's jaw clenches. "I can handle Damiano."
"No, you can't." I take his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. "He'd hurt you, Daniel. Maybe not physically, but he'd make sure you lost everything. Your position, your reputation. Everything you've worked for."
Daniel catches my wrists, his thumbs stroking over my pulse points. "Some things are worth losing."
The tenderness in his touch nearly breaks me. "We both knew what this was. One time. One chance to have something real before I do what I have to do."
He stands abruptly, pacing the small bedroom. "This is bullshit, Lu. All of it. You being traded like a commodity. The Sartoris using you to gain power. Your brothers letting it happen."
"They're not letting it happen. I chose this."
"Did you? Or did you just decide to sacrifice yourself because that's what you've been taught to do your entire life?"
His words hit too close to home. I look away, unable to meet his gaze.
Daniel kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his. "I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at this whole fucked-up situation. In a world where someone as incredible as you doesn't get to make her own choices."
I lean forward until our foreheads touch. "I made my choice today. I chose you."
His phone buzzes again on the bed. We both turn to look at it, Damiano's name flashing on the screen.
"I should get dressed," I whisper, pulling back. "We need to go."
Daniel nods, resignation settling over his features. He answers the phone as I gather my clothes, his voice shifting into the professional tone I've heard him use countless times.
"Yes, sir. We're on our way back now. Had to make an unexpected stop." He pauses, listening. "Understood. Twenty minutes."
When he hangs up, the air between us has changed. Reality has reasserted itself, pushing back the magic of what we shared.
"Lu," he says softly.
I look up, afraid of what I might see in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or worse, pity.
Instead, I find only fierce determination. "This isn't over."
I drive through the streets of Manhattan with Lucrezia beside me, the silence between us heavy with everything we can't say. Every few minutes, I catch myself glancing at her profile, the curve of her cheek.
"I'll tell Damiano I needed to stop at a gallery," she says suddenly, breaking the silence. "That's why we're late."
I nod, not trusting my voice. The lie comes as another small sacrifice to protect what we did. What we had. What we can't have again.
"He won't question it," she continues. "Art has always been my excuse."
I clear my throat. "Whatever you think is best."
She turns to look at me then, those dark eyes searching my face. "Daniel..."
"Don't," I say, softer than I intended. "Please."
She falls silent again, turning to stare out the window as rain begins to speckle the glass. I focus on driving, on the mechanical actions of checking mirrors and signaling turns. Anything to keep from reaching for her hand.
When we pull up to the Feretti mansion, I kill the engine but don't move to get out. For just a moment, we sit in the bubble of the car, the last private space we'll share.
"Lu," I start, but the front door opens, and Zoe steps out onto the porch, waving.
The moment shatters. I get out and circle around to open Lucrezia's door, maintaining the professional distance that's expected.
"There you are," Zoe says, her eyes moving between us with too much understanding. "We were getting worried."
"Sorry," Lucrezia says. "I wanted to stop at a gallery."
Zoe nods, accepting the lie without question. "Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes if you need to freshen up."
"Thanks," Lucrezia says, already moving toward the stairs. "I'll be down soon."
I follow her, as I always do, keeping a respectful distance as we climb the stairs.
When we reach her bedroom door, she pauses, her hand on the knob. For a moment, I think she might say something, might invite me in. The thought sends heat coursing through me, memories of her body against mine still fresh.
But she just nods, a small, formal gesture. "Thank you, Daniel."
"Of course, Ms. Feretti," I reply, the formality a shield between us.
She slips inside, closing the door with a soft click that feels like a gunshot. I take up my position outside her room, back against the wall, eyes on the hallway. Doing my job. Being what I'm supposed to be.
I want to pound on her door. I want to tell her that we can find another way, that she doesn't have to marry Bruno, that I'll protect her from whatever comes. I want to tell her that what happened between us wasn't just sex.
But I say nothing. I stand guard in silence, because I can't trust myself to say only what she needs to hear.
Because the things I want to say would only make this harder for both of us.
Or will make her run even faster away from me.
I choose to be a coward.
A fucking useless coward who can't have the woman he wants.
Who doesn't deserve to have the woman he wants.
So I wait, listening to the soft sounds of her moving around her room, preparing to go downstairs and play her part.