Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
T he past two weeks have been a whirlwind of change and quiet moments that feel anything but ordinary. After returning from Italy, I finally moved into Sin’s bedroom—a decision that feels both terrifying and inevitable. Nights are filled with whispered conversations and stolen kisses, his presence a constant, grounding force in my otherwise chaotic new life.
It’s been really romantic waking up beside him. All of the feral hardness of him seems to soften with my presence which makes me feel extremely special.
During the day, I throw myself into planning the masquerade ball with Bria.
When I’m not with her, I’m at Alice in Brewland, falling into the rhythm of work with Victoria. She’s patient and sharp-tongued in the best way, her humor cutting through my occasional moments of self-doubt. The steady hum of the coffee grinder, the hiss of steaming milk, and the quiet murmur of customers feel like a sanctuary—a small piece of normalcy in a life that’s anything but.
As the masquerade ball draws closer, I can’t help but feel the tension building beneath the surface, a mix of excitement and dread that I can’t quite shake. For now, I focus on the small victories: making the perfect latte, choosing the right dress, and finding my place in this strange, chaotic world.
Now, we’re really digging in on the last phases of planning.
With Sin’s money, the decorator is doing pretty much everything. But Bria and I do get to do the fun stuff, like shopping.
I’m bringing along the mask she got me in Portofino, as I want my dress to match it.
The boutique is a dream of opulence, its tall windows letting in soft, natural light that illuminates racks of elegant gowns in every imaginable shade.
Mirrors line the walls, making the space feel endless, and the faint scent of fresh flowers lingers in the air. Bria’s already rifling through a rack of dresses with the enthusiasm of someone who thrives in the world of fashion.
For the next hour, Bria pulls out one gown after another, encouraging me to try on bold colors and intricate designs I’d never have chosen on my own. She even tries on a few herself, her bubbly energy contagious. The shop attendant brings out a selection of masks: delicate creations adorned with feathers, sequins, and lace, but I have mine already.
“You have to try this one,” she says, holding up a shimmering emerald gown. Its flowing fabric catches the light, sending tiny sparkles across the room. “With your complexion, it’ll be stunning.”
I laugh nervously, brushing my fingers against the dress. “I don’t know if I can pull something like that off.”
Bria rolls her eyes dramatically. “Magnolia, please. You’re gorgeous. Trust me, you’re going to own this masquerade.”
The word still feels foreign to me. Masquerade. The whole idea of hosting one is surreal.
Bria thrusts the gown into my arms. “Go. Try it. And don’t argue.”
I step into the plush fitting room, slipping into the dress with care. The fabric feels impossibly smooth against my skin, the bodice hugging my frame before cascading into a flowing skirt that brushes the floor. When I step out, Bria gasps, clapping her hands together.
“Oh my God. Yes. Is that the one?” she asks, circling me like an artist admiring their masterpiece. “You look like a queen.”
I glance at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back. The dress brings out the warm tones in my skin, and for the first time in a long while, I feel like I could belong in Sin’s world: a world of grandeur and elegance.
“You really don’t think it’s too much?” I ask, smoothing the fabric nervously.
“Too much? Magnolia, this is a masquerade ball, not a coffee date. Go big or go home,” Bria says with a grin. “If you love it, then that’s the one.”
“I think so.” I grin, handing her my mask .
She ties it gently over my face, stepping back with a proud smile. “Now you’re ready to break hearts.”
I laugh, turning to the mirror again. The mask adds an air of mystery, transforming the look entirely. For a moment, I let myself imagine the ball—dancing with Sin under chandeliers, the murmur of the crowd, the thrill of stepping into a world of fantasy.
“Thank you, Bria,” I say softly. “For helping me feel… like I belong.”
She waves a hand, brushing off the sentiment. “You do belong. My brother’s lucky to have you, and I can’t wait for everyone to see it.” Then she grins mischievously. “But also, I’m totally taking credit for this outfit. You’re welcome.”
Tonight, Sin is taking me on a date while the company he hired outfits the home with décor. Tomorrow night is going to be so much fun!
The city skyline stretches out before us, glowing under the soft orange and pink hues of the setting sun. The streets are alive with the hum of evening traffic, the chatter of pedestrians, the sound of distant music spilling from bars and restaurants. I’m wrapped in the warmth of Sin’s presence, his hand around mine as we walk down the bustling streets of downtown New York City, the world feeling smaller, quieter, just for us.
Sin’s usually so composed—so in control—but tonight, something about him feels different. Relaxed. There’s a softness in his eyes that I’ve rarely seen, a flicker of something tender. He’s talking to me about his favorite places in the city, places I’ve never been before, and I’m soaking in every word, every smile. His voice is like velvet, the softness of it surrounding me.
“Where are we going?” I ask, glancing up at him, my heart fluttering in my chest. His hand is warm around mine, and the city lights catch the edges of his jaw, making him look like something out of a dream. For a moment, I can forget the weight of the world, the shadows that follow him.
“Somewhere special,” he says with a mischievous smile. “Trust me?”
I nod, squeezing his hand, feeling a warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with the crisp evening air. “I trust you.”
He leads me down a quiet side street, away from the busy nightlife. The crowd fades behind us, and it’s like we’re in our own little world, just the two of us. The glow of a hidden courtyard restaurant lights up ahead, tucked away behind ivy-covered stone walls. It’s intimate, secluded, and I can’t help but smile.
“I can’t believe you know about this place,” I say as we approach the entrance. “It’s so… hidden.”
“Sometimes the best places are the ones no one knows about,” he replies softly. “I like it that way.”
We’re seated at a small table on the patio overlooking the city. The breeze rustles the leaves of the trees nearby, and the city feels a world away, the noise muffled by the calmness of the moment. We share a bottle of wine, the conversation flowing easily, our laughter rising and falling like a gentle tide.
But even in this peaceful bubble, there’s something in Sin’s gaze—a sharpness, an alertness—that I can’t ignore. I notice how his eyes flicker around the crowd, how his posture is always just a little too tense. It’s subtle, but it’s there, like a thread of tension running beneath the surface of the evening.
“Is everything okay with you?” I ask quietly, placing my hand in his.
He relaxes, leaning into me. “Yes, I just… I’m not used to this,” he admits.
I casually lean back in my chair. “To what?”
“Magnolia,” he says, my name rolling off his tongue like a secret. His voice is low, steady, but there’s an undercurrent of something vulnerable there, something that catches me off guard.
I look up at him, the candlelight flickering between us. “What is it?”
He leans back slightly, his hand resting on the edge of the table, fingers tapping once before they still. His jaw tightens, as if he’s choosing his words carefully, and when he speaks, his voice carries a weight I wasn’t expecting.
“I’ve been trying to find the right moment to say this,” he begins, his dark eyes locked on mine, unwavering. “And every time, I tell myself it’s too soon, or the timing isn’t right. But I’m done waiting.”
My breath catches, and I don’t dare interrupt.
“You’ve been in my life for such a short time, but it feels like I’ve known you forever.” His voice softens, the edges of his usual sharpness fading. “And it terrifies me, Magnolia. Because I don’t know how to do this—how to feel this way. But I can’t ignore it anymore.”
I blink, unsure if I’m breathing. My heart is pounding so loudly it drowns out the sounds of the night around us.
“I don’t just want you in my life. I need you,” he continues, his hand reaching across the table to take mine. His touch is warm, grounding, his thumb brushing gently over my knuckles. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of. You make me want more than this life I’ve built—more than power, more than control. You make me want something real.”
His confession is raw, unguarded in a way I’ve never seen from him before. It’s like he’s peeling back the layers of himself, showing me the man behind the mask he wears so well.
“I’ve spent my whole life protecting what’s mine, Magnolia,” he says, his voice dropping to barely more than a whisper. “But with you… I don’t want to protect you because you’re mine. I want to protect you because I love you .”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and fragile all at once. My chest tightens, my breath catching as I search his face, trying to make sense of everything I’m feeling.
He watches me, his expression open, waiting, as if he’s bracing himself for whatever I might say next. But the truth is, I don’t have the words. I don’t know how to tell him that his confession has turned my world upside down, that it’s made me realize how deeply he’s already carved his place into my heart.
So instead, I squeeze his hand, holding on like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded. “Sin...” I start, my voice shaky but full of everything I can’t quite say yet. “I love?—”
I hear the shot before I can process what’s happening. A whiz of a bullet as it flies through the air between us.
Sin stands up slowly, too slowly for my liking, his hand tightening around his glass. The world, my world is in slow motion now.
“Sin?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly. “What’s going on?”
A sharp crack that splits the air, and then Sin stumbles, his hand shooting to his side as blood begins to bloom from his shirt. His face twists in pain, but his eyes never leave mine, locking on me with a ferocity that makes my heart stop. “Stay down!” he screams at me. Maxwell is on me in an instant; he must have followed us, quiet security lurking in the shadows.
“Sin!” I scream, rising to my feet as panic floods my chest. “Sin, oh my God, are you?—?”
He doesn’t fall. He catches himself on the edge of the table, one hand gripping it as he breathes heavily. He tries to smile, but it’s strained, his breathing ragged as he looks at me, his voice barely a whisper.
“I’m fine,” he says, though the blood seeping through his shirt tells a different story. “Stay down.” I don’t have any choice; Max is pinning me to the ground.
The people around us are already scattering, their screams echoing in the distance. I reach for him, my hands shaking, but he shakes his head, his grip tightening on the table. Sin returns fire, a round of booms that deafen me.
“Go,” he urges Max.
“I’m not leaving you,” I insist, panic surging in my chest, fighting off Max’s restraint. “You’re hurt. You need help!”
But Sin doesn’t argue. “I’m not going to let you get caught up in this, Magnolia. Not now.” A trickle of his blood falls onto my dress.
The sound of footsteps approaches, heavy, quick. Sin’s eyes flicker toward the shadows at the edge of the courtyard, and for a moment, I see something dark, something dangerous in his gaze.
“Sin, please,” I beg, my voice trembling. “Let me help you.” Max is dragging me away now. Rollins passes by us, along with six other men; they’re helping Sin.
I want to argue, to demand he let me stay with him, but the look in his eyes stops me. There’s no room for negotiation. I feel the world tilt beneath me, my body frozen in place as I watch him, my heart pounding in my chest.
But then, before I can do anything else, Sin’s hand drops, and his body sways dangerously. Rollins grabs onto him as panic claws at my insides.
I scream for help, but the world around me fades the farther Maxwell carries me away.
Maxwell carried me the entire way home.
Sin isn’t far behind us.
Not moving and being held by security as they bring him into the kitchen. I go into overdrive, tossing everything off the counter as they lay him on the cold marble .
Bria rushes into the kitchen, wearing pajamas and a frantic grimace. “What happened?”
“Dinner, shot,” I cry. “Two shots.”
“Where?” she asks quickly.
I throw up my hands, looking to Maxwell. “I don’t know,” I breathe.
She grabs scissors from the drawer, cutting off his shirt. Two of the guards are holding pressure on his wounds already, and now we can see the extent of it all.
“Is Magnolia okay?” Sin croaks, awakening for the first time.
“I’m here.” I take his blood-soaked hand, trying to stay out of Bria’s way. She knows what she’s doing.
He breathes out, rasping, “First shot through the shoulder.” I groan in agony hearing his voice so distraught. He is alive though, right here, alive. “Then the second hit my stomach.” His tortured eyes glance my way briefly before he’s out again.
“It’s clear all the way through in his arm.” Bria smiles, examining him, placing gauze underneath the hands of the men. “The shot to the stomach was a graze on his side, thank God.”
“Is that good?” I shriek, knowing I need to calm myself.
She nods fervently. “Yes.”
Their family doctor arrives moments later, stitching him up as I watch on like a moth to a flame. Everyone keeps telling me he’s going to be okay.
That he got lucky.
No, he was having a nice date, telling me he loves me, then violence erupted.
None of this is normal. He can’t go on like this. We can’t go on like this.
I stay by his side, long into the night, until I hear the whir of his breathing pick up. His eyes open, and he looks over at me smiling. “Hey there, Bella.”
I want to scold him, to peel him away from this dangerous life, but he looks so tired and pained.
Instead, I lean up and kiss him as furiously and carefully as I can. “I love you too,” I tell him.
He pulls out the IV the doctor used to pump him with fluids, wrapping his hands on my face to bring me closer.
I cry into his shoulder. “I’m calling off the ball.” I tell him.
“No, you’re not,” he coughs.
“Sin! You’ve endured a trauma. You’ve been fucking shot!”
He lifts my finger to trace the scar along his face, then trails my hands down to his abdomen. “I have plenty of scars, Bella, but nothing compares to you. I want to see you in that dress.”
“When will this end?” I ask quietly.
“When every member of the Rusco regime is not breathing.”