Chapter Thirty-Five
Gualtiero
The slow rocking of the boat draws me up from sleep.
For a moment, I hover in that warm, hazy space between dreams and memory, until the weight draped over me anchors everything back into place.
Ella.
She’s sprawled across my chest, one leg tangled with mine, her arm slung across my waist. The cabin carries the lingering scent of sun, salt, and sex.
A slow, satisfied smile curves my mouth.
This feels right.
Cuddling has never been my thing. Once I’m finished with a woman, I leave or send her away. I never linger. I don’t lie still and trace idle patterns over bare skin while the hours slip away.
I fuck and move on.
But with my angel, everything is different.
I want to stay exactly where I am, feeling the slow rise and fall of her breathing, the weight of her thigh thrown over mine as if she belongs there.
And she does.
From the moment we met, she’s been mine.
Taking things slowly for her sake required a level of restraint I rarely need to exercise.
There were moments I nearly lost it, when her hesitation tempted me to override it, to take instead of wait.
Women usually fall at my feet. I’ve never had to work so hard to take one to bed, but the wait has been more than worth it.
She surpassed every expectation I had. And I had many.
The first time I slid inside her, I thought I understood what heaven must feel like. The tight heat. The way she opened for me so perfectly.
But it wasn’t the physical sensation that settled into me.
It was her face.
The way she looked at me when she unraveled in my arms, completely unguarded. Completely trusting.
That look lodged itself somewhere deep in my chest.
I’ve had great sex before. Wild. Passionate. And easy to forget.
Never have I felt anything this all-consuming and intense.
This was alignment.
It’s hard to believe that a week ago, my angel was a stranger.
Now I cannot picture my life without her in it.
I shift slightly and study her sleeping face. Her lips are parted just enough to draw in slow breaths. There’s a faint, satisfied curve to her mouth. She has no idea how violently she has altered the course of my world.
No woman has ever shifted my axis like this.
But I always knew my One would.
The other women were pleasant distractions. Replaceable. If another man got too close to a woman I was sleeping with, I corrected him. Not from jealousy. From principle. Disrespect cannot go unanswered in my position.
The thought of another man touching my angel, though? It doesn’t just irritate me. It makes my blood boil.
Something primal and territorial rises inside me, and I pull her sleeping body closer against mine.
No one else will touch her. No one else will get close enough to try.
I brush my thumb along the curve of her shoulder, watching the faint shiver that moves through her. Even in sleep, she reacts to me. A profound satisfaction settles into my bones.
Kissing the top of her head, I gather the sheet pooling at her hips and draw it over her body.
Papà was right. This isn’t just lust or infatuation. It is something that roots itself deep and refuses to be shaken loose.
I don’t say the word aloud. If I did, she’d bolt faster than I could catch her. She wouldn’t believe a man like me could be this certain after only days. But I am.
I love her.
Ella will be my wife and the mother of my children.
My heirs.
Being inside her earlier was more than pleasure. It felt like something clicking into place.
I wanted to take her bare and hated that she insisted on condoms.
Recklessness has never been in my nature. I’ve never been careless about protection, because that first time without anything between us was always reserved for the woman who would carry my name.
For my angel.
I want nothing separating us. No barrier. No distance.
And that day will come.
The sooner I get her pregnant, the better. The next generation of the De Marco family needs to be secured.
A son. The image forms easily, making me smile.
A boy with my name, my blood, my training. I see myself placing a steady hand on his shoulder, teaching him discipline before power.
I want a whole brood with her. At least six.
The De Marco men have never failed to produce heirs, so most will be boys. That much I’m certain of.
But I wouldn’t mind a daughter or two.
Especially if they look like my angel.
A quiet laugh hums in my chest. I never imagined myself looking forward to fatherhood. Now I want it to happen tomorrow.
If it were entirely up to me, I would take her to Father Joseph tonight and make her my wife before this sun fully sets.
But the past week has taught me something.
I can’t rush her, or she’ll get skittish and try to run away.
She resists instinctively when she feels cornered. It’s… inconvenient.
I expect she will fight me for control. For autonomy.
She doesn’t yet understand that some decisions are better made for her.
But she will.
Until then, I’ll have to move carefully. Not because I doubt my authority, but because she needs to believe she’s choosing this.
That’s the only way it will stick.
My hand drifts below the sheet and down her bare back again. She stirs, pressing closer to me unconsciously.
She is already falling.
I see it in the way she watches me. In the way her body responds to mine without hesitation. In the softness that slips into her voice when she thinks I don’t notice.
Today sealed it.
Our worlds did not merely collide. They fused.
And fusion brings exposure.
Molinaro remains out there. My enemies are ever watchful. I have already stepped into public with her more than I should have. I touched her openly. Claimed her with my eyes alone. Holding back when she’s near feels… unnatural.
I find myself calmest when I can assure myself she’s really there.
Rumors are already spreading.
Men like me do not display attachment. Any kind of emotion, really. It invites challenge.
I allowed instinct to override strategy, and now she becomes leverage. A vulnerability.
Security around her will need to be tight. She won’t go anywhere on her own anymore.
She will hate that and fight me on it. But this is not negotiable.
Better she resents my protection than becomes a pawn in someone else’s game.
I have no doubt Molinaro will test this. I need to take him down for her sake.
He’s tripled his security in Rome, grown paranoid. Smart move. It won’t save him, though. Every fortress has a flaw. Every man has a weakness.
I will find his.
To the outside world, Ella may look like my soft spot. My enemies will celebrate the discovery. Let them believe it.
They mistake tenderness for weakness. They’re wrong.
Because a man with nothing to lose is dangerous. But a man protecting what is his is unstoppable.
I look down at my angel again, peaceful in my arms, unaware of the calculations already moving around her.
She was meant for me.
I have never been more certain of anything.
Soon, I will give her what waits inside the little blue box in the bedside table.
It’s another small step.
One move closer to ensuring she never walks away.