Chapter 3
MARCO
Am I surprised that Gabriella is snooping in my office? Fuck, no.
Am I disappointed? Hell, yes.
My hand holds her wrist, a mistake as her skin is soft and warm. But I’m determined not to let this woman rattle me as I wait for her to hand over her phone.
"I knew you were up to something." Her voice trembles, surprisingly, not with fear, but with righteous indignation. "You're taking advantage of my father."
Her words hurt, which pisses me off. Is that what she thinks of me? After everything? She thinks I’d betray her father?
“You’re so sure of that, are you? Whatever you think you heard, you didn't even have the decency to ask me about it."
"Would you have told me the truth?"
"When have I ever lied to you?"
Her eyes, those expressive brown eyes that once looked at me with desire, now flash with uncertainty.
“From the moment we met,” she says, and again her words are like tiny daggers in my chest.
Something inside me snaps.
I’d given her more of myself than I’d ever given anyone and she believes I’d been playing some sort of villain the whole time.
I grab the phone and begin deleting photos.
She’s smart enough not to challenge me verbally, but as the saying goes, if looks could kill.
At least now I understand what happened last year when she walked into my office, lambasting me and then leaving.
She thinks I'm plotting against Antonio, the man who saved my position in La Corona when everyone else wanted me gone.
“I can’t fucking believe you’d think I’d betray Antonio.”
“Sure you would. Your intentions with me weren’t noble, Marco.”
My gaze snaps to hers. “Is that what this is about? Because I fucked you with no promise of marriage? I was clear when—”
“I had no illusions about us, Marco, but it’s still a betrayal to my father.”
She’s not wrong, technically.
Fucking her without intentions to marry her is a betrayal to Antonio.
A disrespect.
But she knew how I felt about marriage and relationships when she kissed me and started this crazy rollercoaster ride I can’t seem to get off.
“I didn’t take you by force or deceit. You wanted it too. You practically begged for my cock—”
Her hand flies out, striking me on my cheek. I guess I deserve that, but I don’t apologize.
But then I see the pain in her eyes, and I realize my mistake. I’ve just sullied what we’d had.
“You have everyone fooled, don’t you?” She grabs her phone back. "My father trusted you. He’s always stood by you, and this is how you repay him?"
The accusation burns, especially because it's so fundamentally wrong.
I've spent the past year protecting Antonio's interests, covering for his lapses in judgment, redirecting conversations when he loses his train of thought in meetings.
I run a hand through my hair, frustration mounting. How can I explain without betraying Antonio's confidence?
How can I make her understand that everything I've done has been to protect her father's legacy until Luca returns to take his rightful place?
"Gabriella—" I start, but she cuts me off.
"Don't. I've seen the reports. The problems in our territory started right after I ended things with you. Quite the coincidence, isn't it?"
I push away the pain of her accusation.
I do what I learned to do at a young age.
I transform the hurt into something colder.
Anger. Detachment.
The tools I've used all my life to keep people at a distance. Showing emotion reveals weakness, and that’s not something I’ll do.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," I say, my voice hardening. "You think you've got it all figured out, but you're seeing shadows where there are none. But you'd rather believe the worst of me than know the truth."
Inside, a voice screams at me to tell her the truth.
About my efforts to shield her father from the other families. About how much it fucking hurt when she walked away without giving me a chance to explain.
But I've survived this long by keeping my emotions locked away. By never letting anyone see the real Marco Calabresi.
Not even her.
"You want to believe I'm the villain? Fine." I step back, holding on to my indifference. "It's easier that way, isn't it?"
She just glares at me.
“Or maybe you have your own little game you’re playing. Perhaps I’ve been wrong about you too.”
Gabriella’s eyes narrow. "Wrong about what?"
"About your motives." I watch her. "Maybe you were just using me to get information. Is that it? Sleep with the enemy to learn his secrets?"
Her hand flies up again, but I catch her wrist before it connects with my face.
"How dare you," she hisses. "You know damn well that wasn't what happened between us."
I should back away. I should release her wrist. I should end this conversation and have her escorted out. Instead, I lean in closer.
"Do I? You left without explanation. Now I find you digging through my files." My voice drops lower. "Tell me, Gabriella, are you working against me? Perhaps you were in allegiance with Sal to bring me down. He’s dead now, you know."
Her eyes flash with momentary fear, and I hate that I put it there, but I’m tired of this bullshit.
"You're despicable. What we had was real until I discovered who you really are."
Real? My chest constricts, but I ignore it. "And who am I, exactly?"
I'm practically towering over her now, the heat from her body radiating against mine. "The monster you've created in your head?"
"You're a man who puts power above everything else," she says, chin lifted, refusing to back down. "Even above us."
"There is no 'us'," I say flatly even as the words sour in my mouth. "There's just you breaking into my office and me deciding what to do about it."
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the anger gives way to something else, something that reminds me of tangled sheets and moments of laughter and joy.
It makes my chest ache. My heart yearns in ways it never has except when I was with her.
The air between us crackles with tension, partly anger and partly something else that is too dangerous to acknowledge.
The scent of her perfume clouds my judgment.
It's the same scent that lingered on my sheets long after she left, tormenting me with memories.
Without thinking, I lean closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes.
Her breath catches. I watch her throat move as she swallows.
“You think you have me all figured out.” My gaze drifts to her lips, and the desire to taste them again nearly brings me to my knees.
"I heard you—"
"You heard wrong." My hand moves on its own, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She flinches but doesn't pull away.
"Don't," she whispers, but there's no conviction behind it. She feels this thing between us too.
I should step back, maintain the walls I've built. But something about Gabriella has always made me reckless.
"Don't what?" My voice is rough.
"Don't touch me like you still have the right."
But she leans into my touch.
The contradiction tears at me.
This woman, brilliant, infuriating, beautiful, has always seen through my defenses.
Even now, angry as I am, I want her with an intensity that terrifies me.
“Tell me you don’t ever think about last Christmas,” I challenge, my thumb grazing her cheek.
Her eyes darken, pupils dilating. Anger or desire? With Gabriella, it’s sometimes hard to tell.
"I hate you," she whispers, but her body betrays her, swaying toward mine.
"No, you don't." I'm certain of this, even as everything else between us lies in ruins. "That's the problem, isn't it?"
The space between us shrinks to nothing.
Gabriella's breath mingles with mine.
Her lips part in what might be protest or invitation.
I'm teetering on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall back into the abyss that is us, the magnetic pull that nearly a year apart hasn't diminished.
My hand cups her cheek, thumb tracing her lower lip. Her eyes flutter closed.
She sucks in a breath. "Marco, I—"
The door bangs open.
"Marco, Antonio is—" Roman freezes mid-sentence, taking in the scene before him. "Shit."
Gabriella jumps back like she's been burned. She hurries around my desk, avoiding Roman's knowing gaze.
I clear my throat, straightening my tie though it doesn't need it. "What is it, Roman?"
He glances between us, one eyebrow raised. "Don Monti is asking for his daughter."
Relief rushes through me because whatever was about to happen would have complicated everything further. "Tell him she'll be right there," I say.
Roman nods, lingering as if he’s expecting an explanation. “Of course.” With a final glance at Gabriella, he backs out, closing the door behind him.
The interruption has shattered whatever spell had fallen over us.
Gabriella's guard is back up, her expression closed off. Good, because the last thing I need is to fall under her spell again.
"Your father is waiting," I say, rebuilding my own defenses.
She nods stiffly, moving toward the door. "This isn't over, Marco."
"No," I agree, watching her retreat. "It never seems to be with us."
She pauses with her hand on the doorknob, and for a second, I think she might turn back.
But the moment passes.
She slips out without another word, leaving me alone.
I sink into my chair. My hands are shaking. I clench them into fists to make it stop.
What the hell just happened?
One minute, I'm furious at finding her going through my files, and the next, I'm inches from her lips, ready to fall back into the one weakness I can't seem to conquer.
This isn't me. I don't lose control. I don't let people get under my skin.
Except her.
I need a drink, even as I know that alcohol will do nothing to calm the storm raging inside me. It would more likely intensify it.
"Fuck.”
I thought I’d recovered from her rejection and in a few minutes, she’d proven I hadn’t.
I wonder if she knows that she could ruin me. Not my business, but me, the man.
The door's barely closed behind her when Roman slips back in, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. “That was interesting.”
I shrug, wanting to avoid his scrutiny.
"What was that about?"
"Nothing important."
"Nothing important," he repeats, not buying it for a second. "That's why you two were standing close enough—”
"Drop it, Roman." My tone carries a warning, but he's known me too long to be intimidated.
"Look, I don't care who you're fucking, except she’s—"
"We're not fucking."
He sits in the chair across from me, settling in like he has no intention of leaving without answers. "But you want to and she’s not any woman. This is Antonio Monti's daughter."
Giving in, I pour myself another drink. "I'm aware of who she is." I knock back the drink and pour another. "She was snooping through my files. I caught her."
"And that required you to get so close you could count her eyelashes?" Roman raises an eyebrow. "Come on, Marco. I know you."
He's right. Roman's seen me through everything.
My father's cruelty, my brother's death, my ascension to Don.
He's the only person alive who's seen me vulnerable.
But this… this I can't share, even with him.
"She thinks I'm working against Antonio," I say instead, offering a partial truth. "She's trying to protect him from me."
Roman snorts. "The irony."
"Exactly."
He studies me for a long moment. "There's more to this. You and Gabriella…"
I meet his gaze steadily, my expression revealing nothing. "There is no me and Gabriella."
He studies me, and I hold his gaze because looking away would reveal my deception.
“You know, a marriage with her could solve this problem. Antonio would be over the—”
I nearly do a spit take. “Marriage? How long have you known me?”
He shrugs. “I’m just saying, it would make sense to help Antonio if you were married to his daughter.”
“I’m not marrying her… or anyone. You know that.”
I can see he’s about to argue the merits of marriage, which I don’t want to hear, so I speak before he can. "She's going to be a problem. Gabriella's convinced I'm plotting against Antonio."
“So tell her otherwise. Antonio will back you up.”
“I don’t think my word matters and she seems to think he’s a doddering old fool.” I shake my head. "If she starts spreading these ideas to the other families, it could cause problems.”
La Corona exists in a delicate balance.
Four families, each with their own interests, are held together by mutual respect and careful diplomacy.
Antonio's been the cornerstone of that stability for decades.
If word gets out about his condition before Luca returns, or worse, if the other families believe I'm making a power play against the Monti family…
"It would be chaos," I say quietly. "The peace we've maintained for generations gone."
"So, what's the plan?" Roman asks, thankfully leaving the question of me and Gabriella behind.
"I need to keep an eye on her," I decide. "Her loyalty to Antonio is admirable but misplaced in this case. She could undo everything we've worked for."
"You want me to have someone watch her?"
I consider it for a moment, then shake my head. "No. I'll handle Gabriella myself."
Roman's eyebrow lifts, but he doesn't comment on my decision. "Just be careful," he says finally. "That woman's fire could burn us all if you're not careful."
I don't tell him I've already been burned.
That I'm still burning.