Chapter 34
Sal watched as Catarina stirred awake beside him. For the first time since their wedding, they’d actually slept in the same bed until morning. Normally, he was already gone—sweat-soaked in the gym, waiting for her to join him for self-defense drills. But today… today he’d let himself stay.
And it was worth it.
She stretched like a cat, then burrowed into him, her small nose brushing against the side of his neck.
The warm puff of her breath lingered on his skin, and something inside him twisted.
Why the hell had he denied himself this for weeks?
He’d missed something—something simple, sweet, and dangerously addictive.
Her lashes fluttered, and suddenly she lifted her head, eyes bleary with sleep. “You’re still here.”
Sal’s lips twitched. “You’re very observant,” he teased, dragging his hand up her spine, tangling his fingers in her hair. Soft, silky, grounding. His chest tightened as she traced absent patterns on him with her delicate fingers.
He shifted, lifting her easily until she was straddling him. He wanted to see her. Wanted her to take what she craved. “Show me what you want, Cata.” His hands cupped her breasts, and her gasp went straight to his groin.
She wriggled, her movements instinctive, needy, making him grit his teeth. He lifted her hips, guiding her above him. “I need a condom,” he groaned, already hard with need.
Her answer cut through his haze. “No, you don’t.”
Sal froze. The words slammed into him like a punch.
He flipped her beneath him in a swift motion, her hair spilling across the pillows like a dark halo. His voice was low, rough. “Why not?” His chest rose and fell, his fear for her health irrational—but real.
Her wide eyes flashed with fear, and instantly, his fury cooled. That fear wasn’t for him—it was for her memories.
“Cata,” he murmured, his voice softer now, brushing his lips against the tender spot of her throat he knew unraveled her. “We briefly talked about having kids, but we’re not ready yet.” When she still looked startled, he softened his tone even further. “Just talk to me.”
Her breath shuddered. Then the truth spilled out.
“I want to have your child!” she blurted, her voice cracking. She pushed at him, but he held her gently—just enough to anchor her, not cage her.
He froze, heart pounding.
“My father…” Her voice faltered, and she clutched the sheet to her chest, tears trembling on her lashes.
“He used me like a pawn, Sal. He would sell me off—engage me to whoever he wanted to control. Men I barely knew. And some…” She swallowed hard.
“Threatened horrible things.” She slipped out of bed and tugged a robe over her nakedness.
He watched, but heard her words. The implication cut through him like a blade. His vision darkened with rage, but he forced himself to remain still as her pain poured out.
“But you…” she whispered, her arms wrapping around herself, the robe clutched tightly as she stood by the window. She faced the morning light as if it could burn away her shame.
“My father never saw me as a person,” she said bitterly.
“Just a tool. A way to manipulate his men. The engagements never lasted long—weeks, maybe months—before those men disappeared. I don’t know what happened to them.
I never asked.” Her chin lifted, trembling but defiant.
“I didn’t care. None of them were kind.”
Her eyes met his, shining with tears and steel. “But you’re kind, Sal.”
He didn’t argue. He wasn’t kind—never had been. He was a bastard through and through. But if she believed he was good, then hell, he wasn’t going to disabuse her of that notion. Not when her belief in him felt like oxygen to his lungs.
“You think this will make me stay?” His voice was quiet, dangerous.
She tightened her arms around herself. “Having a baby?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
Sal sighed and stepped out of bed, coming to her.
“Cata,” he groaned, pulling her into his arms. “You’re still thinking of yourself as a commodity.
” He kissed the top of her head. “You’re enough,” he growled.
“You. Just you.” He hugged her gently, trying to infuse her with his strength.
“You don’t need to produce a child in order to keep me with you. ”
“But…!” she whispered, and he felt her lean into his embrace. That was a good sign.
“You’re enough,” he grumbled again. “Yes, I’d love to have kids with you. But you don’t need to bargain with me in order to keep me. To prove yourself to me.”
Her trembling increased and he rubbed his cheek against her head, trying to reassure her, grateful that she was listening to him.
“We’ll have children. When you’re ready.” She shifted again and he looked down at her. “There’s a lot between us that’s unsettled.”
Sal’s jaw flexed. He didn’t give a damn about a baby. What he wanted—what burned like acid in his chest—was the fact that she still thought of herself as a commodity. “These other men. The ones that threatened you. I want their names.”
His whole body radiated lethal intent. This was one of those moments when he wasn’t kind, when the mafia boss inside him roared to life.
Her lips parted, a shadow of shame flashing across her eyes. “The men who… hurt me,” she whispered, her words too small for what they’d done. “They’re gone. I don’t know where. Probably at the bottom of the Minnesota River.”
He held her gently, his fury banked but seething beneath his skin.
“Cata,” he sighed, sliding his fingers into her hair. Her trust in him, fragile and raw, was more valuable than anything else in his empire. “I’m sorry.”
Her arms crept around his waist, clinging to him, and he felt the wet heat of her tears seeping into his skin.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He kissed the top of her head, his heart thundering with a mix of rage and reverence. “It’s a miracle you ever wanted to be touched again.”
She gave a watery laugh that made his chest ache. “You make things more… exciting.”
His chuckle was rough, self-deprecating. “Exciting, huh? Not exactly the word I’d use.” He drew back just enough to see her face, her eyes glistening but steady.
“I’m sorry that those men threatened you. Scared you,” he rasped, his anger never far from the surface.
“My father did much worse. He never threatened. He just… lashed out when he was angry. It didn’t even have to be something I’d said or done.
He just liked hitting, hurting people,” she told him softly.
“The men who threatened me wouldn’t dare follow through.
Not until after a wedding. They knew they’d have to face my father’s wrath if they sullied me.
” She shifted against him. “The worst they did to me was pinching me. A slap or two. Or held me against my will.”
He shut his eyes briefly, his fists curling against her back. He wanted names. Faces. Corpses.
“Still,” he muttered, barely keeping his voice level.
She shook her head, her fingers clutching tighter at his sides.
“It wasn’t the threats, Sal. It was the humiliation.
Knowing I couldn’t stop them. That I wasn’t strong enough.
” Her eyes flicked up to his, blazing now with something fiercer than shame.
“And they weren’t even strong men, Sal. Not like you. ”
For a long moment, he just stared at her, his chest heavy.
Then something shifted inside him. His anger twisted into something sharper—an unyielding recognition of her resilience.
She wasn’t weak. She had survived, endured, and somehow come out of hell with enough courage to stand here with him now.
He framed her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the dampness on her cheeks. His voice was rough, but certain. “You’re stronger than all of them, Cata. Stronger than me, maybe.”
Her lips parted in surprise, but before she could speak, he bent his head and kissed her—slowly, reverently, nothing like the punishing hunger he usually unleashed. This was different. This was a vow.
When he pulled back, their foreheads still touching, his voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “I’ll never let anyone make you feel weak again. Not your father. Not his men. Not anyone.”
And for the first time, Catarina believed him.