4. Domenico
Chapter 4
Domenico
I wasn’t nervous, but there was a distinct uptick in my heartbeat at the thought of seeing her again. This is going to be difficult. Meeting in secret, we know the risks. There are so many, some that could get her killed, which is why we need to be careful.
Even though I’ve spent most of my life in the shadows, she’s the driving force behind my choices now. She shouldn’t be, but I can’t stop myself from wanting to keep her safe. To hold her close and tell her things are going to be okay.
Even though it’s not something I can promise.
If my father found out I’ve been seeing a Vitale behind his back, I could get us both killed.
As I make my way up the spiral staircase, I take deep breaths, knowing I’m putting both our lives in danger, but also just wanting to be close to her.
Lelia is already waiting when I step onto the rooftop. Her long, chestnut waves hang down her back. The wind picks up the strands and causes them to dance around her. She’s dressed in the most demure outfit, which hides her beautiful curves. Her sweatpants and that hoodie she’s always hiding under are loose-fitting, but I know what she looks like in a ballgown.
A princess.
The Boss of the Vitale clan’s daughter.
The sweet, forbidden beauty shifts on her feet, but she doesn’t turn to look at me. Instead, she focuses on the view from the trellis. The city is vast, sprawling like a sleeping giant awaiting its moment to attack.
Growing up here, I’ve always wanted to run away. My father loves the dark underbelly of New York, but I didn’t want to be hidden in the shadows, moving like a sniper unseen. My choice to stay out of the organization could only last that long. It’s time I step up, but if I do, it means I could put Lelia in more danger than before.
When she finally turns to me, I smile. This is what I’ve been like since I first laid my eyes on hers. There’s a lightness to my usually brooding exterior that I’m thankful my father hasn’t yet noticed.
“Nico,” she whispers my name, her lilting accent feint but there nonetheless.
“I didn’t think you’d be early,” I tell her as I move closer, my hands sliding onto her hips, and I pull her toward me.
“I had to get out of the house. Cassio is driving me insane.” The mention of her cousin’s name is like fuel to my veins. The hatred I have for her family—her cousin more than any other—always burns through my body. Even though Lia is eighteen, she’s still under the rule of her family. When I was eighteen, I’d already killed for my father.
“What has he done?” I whisper as I pull her toward the marble stones that I know they’re using to repair the cathedral.
We settle in, and I know she’s going to vent to me. The idea of her trusting me with her heartache and worries settles the nerves that are sparked with anger.
“I have to tell you something.” Her words send rage crawling under my skin like a million ants, ready to attack.
“You can tell me anything. You know that.” I want to reach for her, but I have a feeling this is something she needs to confess on her own.
There’s a heavy silence as we sit there. I want to shake the answers out of her, but I know it won’t work. I definitely have trouble with patience. It’s not my strong suit.
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes this time. Something is off. And I feel it deep in my gut before I even understand why. Lia sighs, shakes her head, and then she starts speaking. “He’s just watching me now more than ever. There are some meetings taking place with Bosses from other organizations. My father is trying to strike a deal.”
I’m on my feet before I have time to consider what I’m doing. My fist slams into the wall. Blood drips from the cracked skin on my knuckles, but I don’t feel it. There is no pain greater than that of having the person you feel at peace with being ripped away from you.
She doesn’t have to explain what the deal is because I know what that means.
A gentle touch on my shoulder calms me somewhat. I turn to her and she steps to the side, giving me enough space but also keeping close in case I want to hold her. Lia always moved like she knew someone was watching. Poised but never performative, graceful in a way that didn’t ask for attention but got it anyway.
The wind pulls strands of her hair from the waves down her back, and for a second I just watch her, memorizing the shape of her silhouette against the fading dusk.
I didn’t want to be there. But I didn’t want to leave.
“I’m sorry.” She turns away and walks to the edge of the roof, the railing keeping her safe, but the tension in my shoulders only seems to tighten seeing her in such a dangerous space.
I walk toward where she’s standing, and before I press my hands to the metal railing, she turns in my arms. There is no fear in her gaze. She knows I will never hurt her. It’s as if she can sense me the closer I get to her. Those pretty eyes find mine with that same guarded softness that has been undoing me piece by piece since the moment we met.
“I’m sorry,” she says again, voice low, pained, like she hurt herself by confessing what she just did. “It’s not happening right now, but it will.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised by what you told me. You’re the principessa. You should be bartered like all women in the family.” I force myself to shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket, trying to keep my expression neutral. Cool. Detached. The usual lies I wear when I am around her. That is until she unravels me and I confess my feelings to her.
“Why are you sorry?” I ask her and lean in closer so she can’t look away from me. I can’t have her focus on anything but me right now.
“Because…”
Her words falter. There is nothing more to say. I know why she’s sorry, but I want her to admit she’s apologizing when she doesn’t have to. I lean in closer. Close enough to see the tension in her shoulders. Close enough to lie to myself for a few more minutes.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice low, but she can hear me, she can listen to my breaths, and if we weren’t above the city, I’m pretty sure she’d be able to hear my thudding heartbeat.
Lelia nods too quickly. “Fine.”
Liar .
I push away from the railing, away from her, and step to the side. Her perfume, which reminds me of lilies in the summer, invades my senses. She’s a fragrance I never want to forget.
I stand beside her at the edge of the rooftop, watching the city bustle below us. “So this is how you say goodbye?” I say, trying to make it sound lighthearted, but it comes out dark and gravely. “Meet me up here, admit you’re going to marry someone else, and then disappear from my life forever?”
She doesn’t laugh.
That’s when I realize.
“You’re leaving.”
Her silence answers me before her voice does. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I stare at the skyline, jaw clenched. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to know.
But she says it anyway because she has more courage than I do. “My father is planning on sending me off to some godforsaken mansion to live with a man I’m going to be forced to marry. I have a feeling it’s going to be Ignacio Mosca. And Cassio has taken it upon himself to be my personal bodyguard.”
Ignacio Mosca .
The name hits like a bullet I haven’t seen coming, even though maybe I should’ve. I’ve heard rumors. I just didn’t want to believe them.
Lelia looks at me then, and I can see it in her eyes—regret, guilt, something pained and fragile. “There is no going back once my father signs the papers.”
My heart feels like it’s trying to break through my chest.
I should turn away. I should congratulate her, act like it means nothing. Like I’m not already lost in her.
But I don’t.
Instead, I say, “Tell me to walk away.”
Her breath catches.
I mean it. I need her to say it. Need her to be the stronger one this time because I’m done pretending I don’t want her. As much as I know it’s wrong to be here, to want to kiss her and claim her as mine, I no longer have a choice in the matter because she’s stolen my heart.
She shakes her head slowly, blinking fast like she’s trying not to cry. “You wouldn’t listen.” Her words are a gentle reminder of what we’re doing.
She’s right. God help me, she’s right.
I stare down at her, really take her in. The curve of her mouth. The fire in her eyes. The pain in her silence.
I’m falling in love with her.
It’s stupid to think I’ve only known her for a short time and I’m already considering love, but there’s something about this girl. A pull. It’s as if we were magnets, traveling the earth, waiting to find each other.
It hits me all at once, stupid and loud and far too late.
She takes a shaky step back, hitting the railing behind her as her arms wrap around herself. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to matter.”
“Then why do I?” I ask, voice low, rougher than I meant it to be. “Tell me why I feel like everything before you was just noise?”
Her eyes flit closed for a long moment as a single tear slips free. “Because you were never just my enemy. I was only taught to hate you and your family.”
No. I’m not an enemy to her, and she’s not one to me. Not anymore.
And she was never just a forbidden desire I was toying with.
I want to make her happy. I want to see her smile.
“What do you want?” I ask her, taking her hand in mine and bringing it to my lips. Her gaze lingers on mine, holding me hostage in those pretty eyes.
“You.”
One word slams into me as if I were punched right in the gut. If she told me to walk away right now, I would. Her decision is something I would respect, but she’s asking me to stay. And I don’t know how to handle that.
I breathe in once more, taking in the soft scent of her before I lean in. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. My lips linger close to hers, and when she doesn’t pull away, I press my mouth to hers. For one breathless second, she leans into me like we are allowed to want this.
Like we are free.
But the moment passes far too quickly for my liking. She steps back again.
“We can do this,” I tell her, hoping she doesn’t walk away from me. I feel more fragile than she looks right now.
“But what if my family find out, and they hurt you?” The fear in her eyes is palpable, and the anguish in her words twists at my gut.
“Then I’ll die holding your heart in my hands.”
It’s a promise. One I will keep.
“I have to get back,” she tells me. “They’ll be wondering where I am.”
“I know.”
As she leaves, I keep hold of her hand, not wanting to let go just yet. And as our fingers graze each other’s for the final moments I have her with me, I feel it. My heart aching. I watch her walk away. Every step she takes is like a punch to the gut.
And I don’t stop her because I know she’s not leaving me, but instead, she has to get back to the prison she grew up in.
I will see her again.
I’ll make sure of it.
I’m not prepared to lose something that is so precious to me.