Chapter Thirty-Five
Zahra
When we left Gemma’s after being there for a couple of hours—hours of eating and listening to Gran Louisa bad-mouth her late husband nonstop, we went back to the compound, worked a little on the map, brought out some coordinates, and waited for confirmation before we decided to call it a day and leave the compound.
I leaned my head against the car window; eyes closed as I imagined the soft bed waiting for me back at our condo. I was tired, worn out from all the emotional and mental distress I’d gone through.
I opened my eyes when I felt Devil make a curve into the house’s small gate.
Milk was already fast asleep, her head on Dog’s shoulder. Upper’s eyes were closed, but I knew he wasn’t sleeping.
When the house appeared, I sat up straighter, stretching my limbs and suppressing a yawn.
“Elio,” Devil said, and my heart cut as I froze, spotting the figure leaning against a car right in front of the house. He raised his head as we approached, his gaze following us.
I frowned in confusion. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“Do you want me to stop here? Or should I head to the garage first?”
I took off my seat belt. “Stop here.”
Devil nodded, slowing down and stopping at the far end.
Elio didn’t move; he was still leaning on his car, watching us.
“We’ll be inside,” Devil said.
I nodded before getting out of the car, and they drove off to the back of the small compound toward the garage.
When I looked up at Elio, he was already looking at me.
Face, as usual, expressionless. In his hand was a lighter he was flicking open and closed, over and over again.
I blew out a shaky breath as I walked over to him, watching his eyes follow me until I was directly in front of him. He looked stressed but composed.
“London was too cold for you?” I asked, wondering why the hell I had decided to lead with that.
He didn’t say anything. He just watched me. As expected. The sound of the lighter filled the space between us.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nobody was answering my calls.” Flick. “You turned off your phone after your … numerous text messages. I could not reach you, Elia, or anyone. So, I flew back.”
Mentally, I punched myself. Somehow, I had forgotten the text messages or even my phone.
“Elio, why would you come all the way—” I sighed. “Those messages weren’t—they’re no longer valid.”
The flicking continued, but still, he wore no expression. “What does ‘no longer valid’ mean.” It wasn’t a question.
“I know everything now about Gemma and your friendship with her. We went there—to her house, and talked to her and Gran Louisa, and I cleared it all up.”
“You cleared it up,” he stated.
“Yeah,” I answered, trying to read his mood.
He stood upright, the flicking stopped, and he shoved the lighter back into his pocket. “I am glad you did. I’ll be on my way.”
I frowned as he started walking around the car.
Hugging myself against the cold, I tried to tame the anger bubbling inside me.
“So you’re mad,” I called out, and he stopped, letting his shoulder fall, allowing a minute to go by, before turning to me.
I took in his blank stare. “You think you have the liberty to be mad right now? You think you’re the victim in this situation? ”
“I never said anything, Zahra.”
“Yeah. You flew all the way from London, only to leave after exchanging a few words with me and acting like I was the one who hid someone of the opposite gender from you.”
“I never made a comment,” he said, straight-faced.
I ground my teeth, taking a step closer but leaving enough distance. “I had every right to be angry.”
“I did not say otherwise.”
“Why are you acting like a fucking asshole right now?”
“I am?”
I counted to five in my head, ascending and descending. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
“Now you want to communicate.”
I took another step closer. “That’s why you’re angry? Because I didn’t answer your call or listen to you? I was thinking the worst—”
“I concluded that from your messages. I reread them multiple times; I could even recite them word for word. You indeed thought the worst. I understand and am aware of my fault in this. I did not tell you about her, not because there was anything to hide.
“One reason was because I was preparing myself to join two parts of my world together.
Another was because you had already met her on the cruise, and if I recall, we were not together then, and I did not tell you I knew her because right then, at that moment, I was not in the suitable headspace to have that conversation with you.
“There were other opportunities to tell you; I am aware of that too. I admit I treated the matter with ignorance because I knew it would be challenging to make you understand since you had already seen her, and I never said anything then. But I was going to take you to Gran Louisa because she wanted to meet you. You can ask Angelo; I already scheduled a day to do it after we got back from the trip. That is if you still think I would have never told you about her.”
“I already know—”
“About the gift box. I had absolutely no idea it existed. Allow me to stress further that if I had wanted to hide it from you, you would have never found it.”
I sighed. “I know that now.”
“I know you know that. I knew you would have been angry, and I know you had every right to be. But to assume or to believe that I would do something as despicable as infidelity?” His expression was quick to switch from indifference to hurt. “You know my history with that, Zahra.”
I sighed. “I know—”
“Yet you said those things. You thought those things about me.”
“I didn’t mean them—I was just angry. I knew you wouldn’t do that to me, but I was sad, the note in the card was pretty convincing, and I believed it because it was better to believe it than to not believe it and be disappointed and hurt more later on if it turned out to be true.”
He shook his head. “You still doubted me after everything. I know I am not good with actions; I know my words sometimes are the only things I can show you, but I promise you, Zahra, I have never lied to you about my feelings for you. I mean every word I say. I don’t joke with us. I don’t fucking joke with you, Zahra.”
My heart was hammering, and I was regretting those text messages, recalling how I had told him his words meant nothing.
This time, he walked closer, taking up the remaining space between us as he raised his hand to smooth my hair away from the side of my face.
“Do I have to spell it out?” he asked quietly as I raised my head, our eyes locking.
“Hm?” he questioned, tilting his head as his knuckles brushed from my chin to my jawline until he was cupping the side of my face.
My mouth went dry.
“If the fact that I told you that you were my life and that you mean everything to me doesn’t make any sense to you, if you want me to say how I feel in layman’s words, in a way that doesn’t touch the depths of what I feel for you, then all right.
I love you.” His fingers caressed my neck, his bright gray eyes searching the browns of mine.
“I love you, and that is the simplest way I can put it.”
I couldn’t speak. I wasn’t even sure I was breathing. But it was suddenly difficult to take in oxygen, and to stand, and to do remotely anything.
Elio pressed his body even closer to mine, placed his forehead on mine, closed his eyes, and breathed feverishly.
“Te amo, Zahra,” he said. “Tú tienes mi corazón.”
I love you, Zahra. You have my heart.
The warmth from his body flowed into mine as he moved, leaned farther in, tilted his head, and pressed his lips to mine. A kiss that had me holding on to his shirt, a connection that had my heart mirroring the exact rhythm of his. An intoxication that had my stomach going to war with itself.
Anger failed me, agility betrayed me, and the fight in me no longer existed.
Everything in me was him and this, and I kissed him back with as much attention, as much detail, and as much fervor.
My hand left its hold on his shirt and moved to the side of his face as I got on my toes, parting my lips, brushing my tongue with his, tasting him, feeling him, wanting him.
He loves me.
Me.
I buried my fingers in his hair, tugging and breaking the kiss as my eyes searched his. “You love me?”
“I do.”
Something swelled in my chest, and I joined my lips with his again—I didn’t understand why I felt the urge to cry. But I could feel what he felt. I knew the love he carried because I carried it too.
I could feel the pounding of his heart against mine.
I loved that he could tell me. I loved that at least one of us could voice it. I loved the way he had expressed it.
I appreciated that he did.
I wanted to voice it, too; I wanted to tell him—break this kiss and tell him how I felt, how light and free he made me feel.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it. Not now, at least. Doing it meant giving away the last piece of myself.
I wasn’t ready, and with the way he kissed me back, I knew he understood. He placed no pressure on me, and I appreciated that as well.
I never bargained for this when I took back my freedom, but one thing I knew was that I was never letting go of this feeling. I was never letting go of him.
For now, his confession would suffice. He loved me. I had someone I could hold, kiss, and talk to—and he loved me.
That was enough reason to drop every guard I had put between us.
Enough to prepare myself to reveal why exactly I had left Sicily. I trusted him, and we were already working toward the same goal.
It wouldn’t hurt to have him be on my side and in my plans, even if it meant finding another way to help Vitale.
It might not be wise, it might be foolish, but for once in my life, I was taking the risk.
And I knew in my heart that it would be worth it.