Chapter 25
GIOVANNI
The air in the war room is thick with failure.
My men avoid my eyes, shifting in their seats, the scent of frustration heavy in the space.
The mission was simple, the target clear.
But they came back empty-handed, one of them bleeding, and the rest looking like they’d been dragged through hell without a plan.
I stand at the head of the table, hands braced against the wood. “You had him cornered.” My voice is low, the kind that makes the smart ones flinch. “He walked away. Explain that to me.”
No one speaks. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the faint hum of the overhead light. My patience is frayed, my temper raw. One wrong word from any of them and I’ll send them back out into the night with no promise they’ll return.
“You’re dismissed,” I say finally, the words clipped. They leave quickly, grateful for the reprieve, though they should know there won’t be one next time.
I need air. I step out into the hall, my mind still grinding over the mistakes, when I see her. Liliana.
She’s by the tall window in the east corridor, her profile framed by the late afternoon light.
She’s with Dario, and the two of them are close enough that I feel the twist of something sharp in my chest before I’ve even thought it through.
He’s smiling, leaning in slightly, and she signs something that makes him laugh quietly.
The anger from the failed mission spills over. I stride toward them, my boots crunching on gravel, and my voice cuts through the air before I can stop it
“What is this?” The words come out harder than I intend, but I don’t stop. My gaze is on Dario. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
Liliana’s eyes snap to mine, startled, but Dario straightens, his expression guarded. “Step away from my wife,” I snarl, my gaze locked on him, the betrayal sharp even though I know it’s irrational.
Dario's eyes are on me, but he doesn't say anything. I'm one step away from punching him in the face. “I’m asking a question,” I say, my eyes still on him. “Why are you here?”
He lifts his hands slightly, palms out. “We were talking, Giovanni. That’s all.”
Liliana brows pull together. She signs quickly. You’re being rude. What’s wrong with you?
I ignore her signing, my anger blinding, and point at
Dario. “You think you can stand there, looking at her like that?
“Find someone else to talk to.”
Liliana steps forward, her hands slashing through the air. Apologize to him. Now
For what? For him forgetting his place?”
Her eyes blaze, and she signs faster, her movements a storm. You’re lashing out because you’re angry. He’s done nothing wrong.
I shake my head, my voice hard. “Not happening. I don’t owe him anything.”
Her eyes narrow. Apologize to him.
“No.”
The air between us shifts, heavy and charged. She starts signing furiously, the movements so quick I almost can’t follow. I catch enough to know she’s furious, accusing, telling me I’m out of line. Her face is flushed with defiance.
I suddenly want to claim her mouth and kiss her silly.
I step closer, my voice dropping, raw with frustration. “Use your words, Liliana. You’ve been practicing. Say what you feel.”
She freezes, then her fingers still against her thigh. The look she gives me could tear flesh. You want me to speak because you’re not content with who I am. You’re trying to change me.” Her signing is uneven but strong. You're trying to mold me into something more fitting for you.
“That’s not what this is.”
“Yes, it is.”
That’s not true,” I snap, my voice rising. From my periphery, I see Dario slipping away. “I’ve never wanted to change you. I want you safe, damn it, and you keep making that harder.”
You married me because you felt sorry. That's true, isn't it? And now, you're not satisfied. You want to change me into another version more appropriate for you.
The accusation hits harder than I expect, because it's not true. I married her because I love her, dammit.
My temper flares, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “I’m asking you to speak to me. I want to hear your voice. That’s not the same as wanting you to be someone else.”
Her chin lifts. It feels the same.
We stare at each other, neither willing to give ground.
Then she raises her hands again. Her hands move again, slower now, but no less fierce. “Why did you stop?”
My brows draw together. “Stop what?”
“Saying you love me.”
The words land like a weight in the center of my chest. I take a step closer. “I stopped because you never say it back. Until you can look me in the eye and tell me you love me, I’m not giving you those words again.
Her lips part, but no sound comes. I can see the heat in her eyes, the anger, the hurt. I know the line I’ve just drawn between us is deliberate and cruel, but I don’t take it back.
Her hands twitch like she’s about to sign something, but she stops. She looks at me as if she could burn me down where I stand.
I close the space between us, my hand curling around the back of her neck. “You think you can push me away with this?” My voice is rough now, my control thinning. “You can’t. Not when I know you feel the same, whether you’ll say it or not.”
She turns, striding toward the house, and I follow, my pulse pounding, the fight still burning in my blood.
In our bedroom, the door closes with a soft click, shutting out the world, and she faces me, her hands signing, Damn you. You don’t get to demand my love.
I grab her wrists, gently but firm, pulling her close, my voice a rough whisper. “I’m not demanding it, cara. I’m waiting for it.”
Her breath catches, her body taut under my touch. She doesn’t pull away. I see the moment the anger shifts, morphing into something wild, desperate. I kiss her, hard and hungry. She shoves me back just enough to glare at me before pulling me in again.
It’s a battle disguised as a kiss, teeth and heat and stubborn defiance. She meets me with equal fire, her hands tugging at my shirt, ripping it free.
I back her into the wall, my hands finding her hips, lifting her easily. Her legs wrap around my waist, her nails digging into my shoulders through my shirt. The sound she makes when I press my mouth to her throat is low and unrestrained.
“Tell me,” I murmur against her skin.
She shakes her head, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling hard enough to make me groan. “N…n…no,” she breathes.
It only drives me further.
Her hands are on me, pulling at buttons, shoving fabric aside, and when I finally get her bare beneath me, I take a moment to look at her. Her chest rising quickly, her eyes locked on mine, daring me to break first.
I don’t. I push her onto the bed, my body covering hers, my mouth claiming hers again. The kiss is deep, consuming, a clash of want and fury. I kiss her neck, her breasts, tasting her heat, her need, and she arches into me, her moans soft but urgent.
I shed my clothes, my cock hard and aching, and I enter her, fast and deep, each thrust a release of the fury, the longing, the love I can’t say. She moves with me, her hands clutching my shoulders, her eyes locked on mine, wild and unguarded
Her hands grip my shoulders like she’s holding on through a storm, and I keep driving into her, the sound of our bodies filling the room.
She gasps, her nails scraping down my back, and I set a hard, steady rhythm that makes her arch beneath me. Her head tips back, and I kiss the line of her throat, biting just enough to make her moan.
“Say it,” I growl, my mouth against her ear.
Her eyes meet mine, and there’s fire there, a challenge. “N…no.”
It pushes me over the edge. I pin her wrists above her head with one hand, my pace quickening until she’s gasping, her body trembling under mine. Her body tightens as she comes hard, her cry breaking through the air.
I follow her over, burying myself deep as the release rips through me, a blinding rush that leaves me trembling
For a moment, neither of us moves. My weight is braced above her, my breath ragged, my heart pounding against hers.
When I finally let her wrists go, she slides her hands to my face, holding me there. Her eyes are softer now, but the words still don’t come.
I kiss her once more, slower this time, lingering before I pull back. “One day,” I tell her quietly. “You’ll say it. And I’ll be here when you do.”
She doesn’t answer. But she doesn’t look away either.
I let my hand rest on her stomach, feeling the faint swell of our future. For now, this is enough, the fight and the fire binding us, even if the words remain unsaid.