Chapter 25
Sophie
I must be used to Xavier’s warmth because when my eyes peel open, confronted with a bedroom that’s still dark, I already know he isn’t in bed with me.
In the dim light just before dawn, I catch a glimpse of my husband, a fleeting shadow dressing by the window, framed by drapes that seem strangely familiar.
I’m sure I’ve seen them before.
Once muted light curves around Xavier, who has chosen an ivory linen suit for his uniform of the day, I couldn’t care less about curtains or anything else around me, not when the pressed fabric is affixed to every staggering inch of him.
Perfectly tailored to withstand the summer heat, the fitted ensemble is definitely custom-made, designed to highlight his obvious strengths while advertising an obscene wealth.
From the meticulously crafted double-breasted jacket to his pale eggshell trousers and polished Italian leather shoes, he fills me with surreal awe, just as astonishing as those sculptures we chose to overlook last night.
He’s fastening a watch to his wrist to match a pair of gold cuff links.
When he shifts, having opted to wear it all tieless, actual relief moves through me to be able to want him as badly as I do now, relief to feel the effects of him in the soreness that keeps me lounging against the pillows.
Staring .
“You know, you look a bit like my husband.”
His immediate smile stuns me. Knocks me flat.
“Is that right?”
“Mm.”
“How so?”
“Raging muscles. Fuck me eyes. That damn smirk that continuously makes me weak at the knees.”
As if on command, those charms materialize on his face. He watches as my arms stretch overhead long enough for the sheet to drift deliberately. His eyes wince with restraint as they drift from my exposed breasts to my face.
“You look a bit like my wife, too.”
“How so?”
I'm flirting with him. I can’t remember when I felt light enough to joke or tease this way.
Abandoning the window, he saunters to the unmade bed, bending down to pass his lips over one of the peaks, a provocative graze of his teeth raising the nipple to stud.
I feel the implication everywhere .
Nuzzling into my throat, kissing my flooding veins, he says, “Silky skin. A mouth begging to be kissed. That damn tempting gleam in your eyes—” his gaze drifts down to watch the way my hips undulate, thighs chafing together as his husky voice awakens things in my body, “—when you want me so badly you can’t keep still. ”
My voice drops several octaves when I say, “Get into bed.”
He shakes his head, pulling back just far enough that I cannot reach him. His hand caresses my hip through the sheet. “If I do, I’ll miss another day, and my men will come here for answers. ”
That’ll do it.
My mouth draws tight. “When will you be back?”
“A couple of hours. Dante will be here in a few minutes.”
“Aren’t they handling other parts of the business?”
“Yes, but they insisted on coming back until your father is found." He sighs. “I don’t like it, but I don’t trust anyone else with you.”
“I'm not as helpless as I was. You don’t need to worry.”
He smiles softly, kissing my cheek, then my lips. “You were never helpless.”
His phone buzzes on the nightstand. The gun is missing, likely concealed under his clothes by now. His quietness while reading the message prompts me to ask who it is.
“Rosa.”
My eyes dart to the clock, noting the early hour disapprovingly, evoking a smile from him.
“ Steady ,” he teases, visibly enjoying the jealousy I cannot contain. “It’s about Isabella. It’s… my day tomorrow.”
His day with her. With his daughter.
He’s a father .
As all of this floods back, I force a smile, take his hand, and try to appear at ease with everything. “Don’t worry. I can keep out of the way for the day. Courtney mentioned?—”
Unlike me, who’s hiding, he’s completely transparent for once, his gaze wary as he says, “You… don’t want to meet her?”
Fuck . The guarded composure in those words makes me backtrack fast. “Rosa never liked me. I don’t want my coming back to affect your relationship with?—”
“You’re my wife.”
“I know.”
He raises my hand to his lips, visibly torn, as he carefully considers his words. “Listen, I get this may be too much too soon…”
Sitting up, I shake my head fervently, unwilling to let him think that, even if it might be true. “X, I just meant that I'm a stranger to her. If Rosa’s okay with it, of course I want to meet Isabella. She’s your baby. Of course, I want to meet her.”
“It doesn’t have to be tomorrow.”
“Well, if I'm staying here—” His eyes widen a fraction, prompting me to rephrase, “I mean, since I am staying here, tomorrow is as good a day as any to do it.”
He’s visibly unsettled.
How I’ve managed to do that in under a minute is beyond me. It has to be some kind of record.
Placing my hands on his neck, I exhale the discomfort out of my body. “I'm sorry. Nothing is coming out right. Please don’t overthink this. Tell Rosa I’d love to see Isabella if she’s okay with it.”
“Soph…”
“I mean it.” I shake him, grinning wider. “Just do as I say.”
Xavier seems as if he’s not ready to let it go, but when his phone rings in his hand, I restrain a sigh of relief as he stands and approaches the desk. The dim light hides the items he brings to me until they’re in my hands.
A cell phone… and a gun.
“Let me remind you that I taught you how to shoot. Not this Isaac .” At the instant roll of my eyes, he wipes the discomfort from our conversation off his face and flashes me a megawatt smile. “You still a good shot?”
It’s freeing to unequivocally confirm that with a “Yes.”
He points to the phone. “My number is on speed dial. You call me at any time, and I’ll answer.”
“Okay.”
“The group’s numbers are there too.”
“Courtney’s?”
“Yes. Although I think it’s best if she comes to see you here until the news of your return is made public.
If your father can get your hands on you privately, he will.
We need to make a scene so he can’t retaliate easily.
” He bends down to kiss me. “Also, a Fed will be here later tonight at our request. It’s for show.
He’s one of ours. He’ll clear the investigation, claiming you’ve been in Italy.
No one outside the Familia will question it. ”
“And in the family?”
“They won’t be bold enough to ask me, but they might approach you.”
“I’ll change the subject.”
He nods. “That’s best. It’s widely known that Vito and I are feuding, so many of them probably already know why you disappeared.”
“But they… don’t know what happened?”
“There were rumors.” His lips seal into a tight, unforgiving line. “The boys know… So does Dario.”
“Dario?”
“My consigliere.”
“You had to tell him?” I do my best to conceal how much I wish he hadn’t.
“I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell anyone.
Dario only knows because my father was…” Xavier averts his gaze, as if exorcising a haunting memory.
But in an instant, he dispels the storm.
When he meets my eyes again, there’s a chilling resolve.
His face is a fortress, impenetrable and fierce. “Dario won’t say anything.”
His inability to complete that sentence, tied to Arturo Marcello’s name, conveys more than words ever could. Like him, I’m seeing the past—the horrifying, nameless faces of my assailants.
“What is it?” Xavier asks softly.
“Are those men still employed by you?” My eyes dart to the window. “Are they here?”
A barely contained rage simmers beneath the surface of his gaze, evident in the way his jaw clenches tightly. His eyes shift, darkening with an intensity that courses a sharp chill down my spine. Instantly, I regret asking such a stupid question.
“You don’t want to know what I did to them,” he says, his voice deceptively soft, tinged with malice.
In a single instant, I know they’re dead. No, not just dead. In pieces. Incinerated or tossed to the bottom of a lake or buried in an unmarked grave. And I know these deaths don’t haunt him like the others.
He relished these.
And while it breaks my heart to think of him sinking so low, capable of inflicting such horror on another human being, in a twisted way, I’m grateful.
Rather than fear him, I beckon my Phantom closer, urging him into my open arms.
The mattress sinks under his weight as he cups my face, pressing his head to mine. His breathing times to my own.
I’m not sure how long we sit in that chilling silence.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, caressing him in the dark.
For such a large man capable of unspeakable atrocities, he’s incredibly tender with me, accepting any fraction of love I'm willing to bestow on him. His answer, spoken through a nervous smile, is one I hope to hear daily for the rest of my life.
“I already can’t wait to come home to you.”
After Xavier left, the pillows were too tempting to abandon right away. It’s nine by the time I escape the warm confines of the covers, stealing a quick glance at the gun on the nightstand before wrapping the sheet around myself.
The sun spotlights a picture frame that makes my mouth go dry, steals the breath right out of my body. My shock doesn’t end there; it doubles down as my eyes slowly scan the layout of this master bedroom .
Now I understand why those drapes looked familiar .
There’s an antique armoire overflowing with neatly arranged rows of hardcover books.
Frames of art are stacked against the wall, items that once beautifully complemented our city apartment.
My vanity hugs a corner of the room, housing my perfumes, hair clips, and brushes, all arranged with careful precision.
In the early hours, I couldn’t see it, but when touched by the light of day, everything around me transforms into a bittersweet journey into the past, bringing forth the crushing realization that Xavier could never bear to part with my things.
Disbelief leads me to the closet, throwing open the doors.
The sight of my wedding dress sets me back until my knees collide with the bed frame. All of my robes, sweatshirts, and nightgowns.