CHAPTER 34
Roxanne
Istormed out before Santino could see through everything I was trying so desperately to hold together.
The door opened, someone saying something about measurements or deliveries or furniture.
I didn’t register it. Their voice blurred into the background, distant, meaningless.
I nodded as though I understood, like I was still Roxanne Talati—the composed one, the one in control.
And then I walked past them before they could finish.
Each step felt rushed and unsteady, as though my body was moving ahead of my mind, trying to outrun the truth sitting deep inside me.
I didn’t stop walking until I couldn’t hear him anymore. Even then, I didn’t slow down. Not until I reached the far end of the manor, where the noise of the site faded into a dull hum—where no one would come looking, where no one would see.
The air grew thick with quiet. I took two deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart and the mess in my head, which kept throwing different things my way.
What the hell had I done?
My stomach twisted violently. I heaved in a panic, almost about to throw up.
Then it all crashed into me. The way Santino’s hand had been on me, in me. The way my body had responded, without shame. The way I hadn’t stopped him.
And worst of all, I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.
A pulse throbbed low in my stomach, slow, lingering—like an echo of him still inside me. My thighs pressed together instinctively, a reflex I couldn’t control anymore, couldn’t stop. Disgust hit me instantly.
“No—” I whispered, shaking my head, like I could force it out of me.
But it didn’t stop. Heat spread through me first. Then awareness. Then memory. And with it came the sickening realisation that my body was betraying me all over again.
I could still feel him. And after today, I knew it wasn’t only physical for him. This wasn’t just desire. It wasn’t a fixation he would eventually burn through. It wasn’t a passing obsession he could bury and walk away from.
No.
A chill swept through me. Because I’d seen the way he’d looked at me. The way his voice had changed. The things he’d said. Not about my body. Not about possession. About my laughter. My tears. My nightmares. Every broken piece I’d spent my life trying to hide.
And the realisation hit me with sickening clarity. He wasn’t trying to conquer me. He was trying to keep me. To love me.The thought made my blood run cold.
No.
No. This couldn’t be happening.
Because men survived obsession. They survived lust.
But love?
Love stayed. Love endured.
And if Santino Rossi loved me—there would be no halfway for him. And God help us both. Because I already knew he would burn for it. And I didn’t know if I could survive watching another man destroy himself for me.
My fingers curled into my palms, nails digging into skin, as if pain would anchor me and bring me back into reality where there were rules.
But nothing did. Because no matter how loudly my mind screamed, my body refused to forget. It remembered him. The way it had leaned into his touch without hesitation. The way his words sank into me, striking the ashes I thought were cold, igniting a flame I didn’t want but couldn’t kill.
Julian’s voice slipped in then. Soft. Reasonable.
“It’s okay to feel for two people at the same time.”
A hollow laugh escaped me.
Because this didn’t feel okay. This felt like betrayal wearing a prettier name. This felt like I had just taken everything I had built—every piece of control, every boundary—and shattered it with my own hands.
A sick, hollow feeling spread through my chest.
What does that make me?
Someone who wanted it? Wanting what I shouldn’t? Crossing lines I couldn’t uncross, and still wanting more?
The thought didn’t even feel like mine when it came. It slithered in—familiar, poisonous.
Pathetic.
Weak.
Easy.I shut my eyes, trying to wash it off. I shook my head, hard, like I could dislodge it—but it only got louder, clearer, settling deeper under my skin.
This is what you are.
This is all you’ll ever be.
My hand trembled as I dragged it through my hair.I needed to get away before Santino found me like this.Because if he looked at me with that unbearable certainty again—if he touched me, I knew I’d break. And I couldn’t afford to break. Not now.
I paced once, twice, before stopping abruptly as my phone rang again.
Unknown Number.
The only thing was that it wasn’t unknown. It was him, my uncle. My thumb hovered over it. For a second, just one—I thought about ignoring it, walking away. Pretending like I had done for years. But I didn’t. I answered instead, against all instinct.
“Hello?”
Silence. Then—a slow breath. Familiar in a way that made my insides lock up.
“You always did take your time.”
My grip tightened on the phone. My pulse spiked so fast the room tilted.
“What do you want, Darius?” I asked, frustration seeping into my voice. I said his name deliberately. Stripped of any title. In no way did he deserve to be given any kind of respect.
“First name basis. I can work with that, Pumpkin.” He chuckled. His sinister laugh cut through me, making my body go cold.
“Still trying to act like you’re in control, huh?” he added.
My throat tightened. My breath stuck halfway in my lungs. Suffocating. Heavy. I felt myself shrink, like the same helpless twelve-year-old all over again.
My fingers trembled, but I tried to keep my voice strong.
“I’m not a child anymore.”
“I know,” he said, poison coating every word. “You’ve grown into a fine woman.”
My stomach dropped.
“So fine… you’ve got not one, but two men eating out of your palm.”
Anger flooded my veins. My phone vibrated.
“Check your message before you say anything further.”
My heart stopped for a beat. I thought I was going to pass out. I lowered myself onto a nearby step, staring at the picture.A picture of Santino and me—not too long ago—walking out of the motel room.
My hand came up slowly, pressing against my mouth in a desperate bid to contain it all—my breath, my thoughts, the panic clawing its way up my chest.
Of course.
The SUV. The one that never moved. The one that was always just there. Watching.
“They’re out of context,” I said quickly. “You don’t—”
“Oh, I do.” I could almost feel him smirking into the phone.
“My guy tells me he could only get this shot. Not clear, but clear enough to send to a certain someone waiting for you in Sicily.”
I could hear the maliciousness drip in his voice. He wanted to destroy me again. Not the way he’d tried before. This time, he wanted collateral. He wanted to destroy everything.
But he wasn’t entirely to blame. I did this. I brought this upon myself. I was the one who let Santino in and got my feelings confused about him. I am the one destroying everything.
“No, you wouldn’t,” I whispered.
“I intend to.”
“What do you want?” I asked finally, forcing the words out.
“Come see me. In person.”
My stomach flipped. I shook my head. I wanted to say no, but the words stuck like glass in my throat. My phone buzzed again. He had sent me a location, not too far from the site.
“Tomorrow. 3 p.m., and make sure to leave your dog behind,” he added. “Or I’ll have to take care of him myself. And you won’t like that.”
My throat went dry, the words twisting into a blade pointed at Santino.
“And Pumpkin.” he paused long before adding. “Don’t make me come get you.”
The line went dead. I sat there on the cold staircase, staring at the screen. At the address. At the reality I couldn’t avoid anymore. I hadn’t even noticed the tears running down my face.
Had I been crying all this while?
I needed to fix this. Because if I didn’t, I would do it again.I needed something—someone—an anchor. Grounding.
Marcello. The name came like instinct.
But what would I tell him?
That I betrayed him?
That I hurt him?
The truth. Tell him the truth.
My fingers moved before I could think, dialling him, pressing the phone to my ear like it could hold me together. It rang once. Twice.
Then—
“Amore,” his voice came familiar, steady—home.
But there was tension under it. Noise. Voices in the background—sharp, overlapping. Movement.
“I’m sorry,” he added, quieter now, like he’d stepped away from whatever was happening. “Can this wait? I’m in the middle of something.”
I stilled. For a second, I forgot how to breathe. Because Marcello never did that. Not with me. Not unless it mattered. Not unless it was serious.
“Yeah,” I said quickly, too quickly, forcing my voice to stay level. “It’s fine. I just—nothing. I’ll call you later.”
He paused a beat before speaking again. As though he was weighing the tremor in my voice. But instead—
“I’ll see you soon.”
The line went dead. Silence pressed in, deafening, suffocating. I was alone again, with my thoughts.
And for a second, I just sat there, staring at nothing. Waiting for the calm that usually came with hearing his voice. It didn’t.
I barely made it to an empty paint bucket before it hit me. My body folded in on itself as I threw up, my hands bracing against the rim, fingers trembling. Until there was nothing left—but the burn in my throat and the violent shaking that wouldn’t stop.
My breath came in sharp pulls as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, vision blurring at the edges.
Santino.
Darius.
My stomach twisted again. Because he knew. My grip tightened on the bucket.
That picture—it was just one moment. One angle. One mistake. But how many more were there? How long had he been watching? The motel. The site. The cottage.
Had he seen everything?
The way I looked at Santino. The way I… responded to him.
My chest tightened painfully.
Did he know how far this had gone?
Or worse—did he only need enough to destroy me anyway?
My fingers curled into the metal rim. Because context didn’t matter. Not to him. Not to the kind of damage he wanted to do.I knew what he was capable of. I knew how far he’d go, what he could do with it. And that was the thought that made my blood run cold.
I squeezed my eyes shut, bile burning my throat.
Tomorrow at three—I would walk into hell. And I already knew what it would cost me. Because if I didn’t go, he wouldn’t stop. He never had. And I couldn’t survive watching him destroy the people I loved.
Not again.