8. Lachlan #3
"Because I love you." I know it's probably the worst thing to say right now, but I can't help it. I'm exhausted, and I don't know what to do. "I've loved you for ten years, and I came back for you like I promised. I'm trying to keep you safe, not hurt you."
She stares at me for a long moment. "The boy I loved wouldn't have locked me in a room," she says finally. Her voice is soft and sad. "The boy I loved would have asked me what I wanted. Would have given me a choice."
"The boy you loved was naive." I can hear the frustration in my own voice, the anger at myself, at the situation, at the fact that nothing is going the way I thought it would.
"The boy you loved thought love was enough.
That we could just run away together and everything would be fine.
But it's not enough, Adriana. Love doesn't keep you safe.
Power does. Control does. And I have both now.
I can protect you in ways that boy never could. "
"I don't want to be protected," she says softly. "I want to be free. I want to make my own choices. I want—" She stops, shaking her head, and I can see tears gathering in her eyes.
"I want my life back," she whispers. "The life I should have had. The life we should have had together, before everything went wrong."
"We can still have that." I take a step toward her, my hand reaching out. "That's what I'm trying to give you. A life. A future. Safety for you and Matteo. Everything we should have had ten years ago."
"But you're not giving it to me." She doesn't move away from my outstretched hand, but she doesn't take it either. "You're taking it. You're deciding what I need, what I want, what's best for me. Just like Gio did. Just like my father did. Just like every man in my life has done."
I don't know how to respond—how to make her understand that I'm different, that my intentions are different, that everything I've done has been for her.
But maybe intentions don't matter.
"I'm sorry," I say finally. The words feel inadequate, insufficient. "I'm sorry I locked the door. I won't do it again. You and Matteo—you can go anywhere in the penthouse. This is your home now. You're not prisoners here."
"But we can't leave."
"Not without telling me first." I have to make sure she understands the reality of the situation. "There's security throughout the building and outside. For your protection. I need to know where you are so I can keep you safe."
"So we're prisoners," she says flatly. "Just in a nicer cage."
The door to Matteo's room opens, and he steps out, dressed in the clothes that were left for him—jeans and a T-shirt that are slightly too big, borrowed from somewhere. Probably one of my men's kids. "I'm ready," he says, and he looks between us. I can see that he senses the tension.
"Good," Adriana says. She moves toward him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Let's go have those pancakes."
I lead them through the penthouse toward the kitchen, pointing out rooms as we pass—the living room, the library, the media room, the gym—trying to show them that this is a home, not a prison.
That they have space here, freedom within these walls.
But I can see Adriana taking it all in with that same wary expression, looking for a way out.
In the kitchen, I make pancakes while they sit at the island.
Matteo chatters nervously about nothing in particular while Adriana watches me with those green eyes that used to look at me with love, and now just look tired and defeated.
I pile pancakes on plates, add chocolate chips like I promised, pour orange juice and coffee, and set it all in front of them like proof that I can take care of them… that I can give them what they need.
Matteo digs in immediately, and I can see some of the tension leaving his small body as he eats.
It seems like the normalcy of breakfast makes everything feel slightly less terrifying.
But Adriana just picks at her food, pushing it around her plate, and when she looks up at me, I can see the question in her eyes. What happens now?
I don't have an answer.
I thought I had it all figured out—get her out of Gio's house, bring her here, marry her, keep her safe.
I thought once she was here, once she understood that I was protecting her, everything would fall into place.
That she'd remember what we had, remember who I was, remember that we loved each other once.
But nothing has fallen into place. She's here, but she doesn't want to be. She's my wife, but she doesn't trust me. She's safe, but she feels imprisoned. And I don't know how to fix it.
I watch her with Matteo, the way she touches his hair, the way she smiles at something he says, the way her whole face softens when she looks at him.
I watch the love there, the fierce protectiveness, the absolute devotion, and I know I'd give anything to see her look at me with even an ounce of that love again.
I thought becoming a conqueror was enough to win her back, that showing her the lengths I'd go to would make her realize I never stopped loving her.
But that doesn't seem to be the case. And now, I have no strategy for how to keep the woman I've found again.