Chapter 20
POV: Amanda
The buzzing filled the room, sharp, steady, but all I could hear was my pulse. I reached his side, eyes burning as I stared at the crown perched over the fox’s head. My fox. His queen.
“This is forever,” I whispered, my hand lifting instinctively, but I stopped inches from touching the raw skin. “Adrian, this… this is permanent.”
He turned his head, gaze hooking into mine, steady and unshakable.
“You already are permanent. You think I needed ink to know that?”
His lips curved, faint, the smallest smirk laced with truth.
“You’ve been tattooed on my heart since the day you walked into my world. This—” he nodded toward the ink, voice dropping— “this is just catching up to the truth.”
Something cracked wide open inside me. The tears burned, but I let them. I let myself break in front of him.
“Adrian…” I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. “You can’t—”
“Yes, I can.” His hand caught mine, pulling it against his chest, right beside the fresh ink, right over his heart.
The heat of his skin, the hammering of his pulse, the bite of the needle—everything collided in me.
“I will never let this fade. Not here.” He pressed my palm harder to his chest. “And not here.”
I broke. Silent tears slipped free, my chest aching, my soul trembling because this was more than a declaration. It was a vow. A vow carved into flesh.
I bent forward, pressing my forehead to his temple, whispering against his skin. “You’re insane.”
He chuckled low, dark, the sound vibrating through me. “Insanely in love with you.”
The needle buzzed again, the fox taking shape, crowned and fierce—and I knew, right then, that no badge, no duty, no past could compete with this man. This was my truth. My forever.
I stayed. I couldn’t bring myself to leave, not while the buzzing needle etched forever into his skin. So I sat beside him, fingers tangled with his free hand, watching the crown settle above the fox until every line was bold, every curve complete.
When the artist finally stepped back and wiped the skin clean, my heart squeezed so tight it hurt. The fox stared back at me, regal and untamed, its crown a perfect match for the way he called me mia regina.
It was us. It was me.
Adrian flexed slightly, dismissing the tattooist with a nod. The door closed, leaving us alone in the heavy quiet.
I reached out with trembling fingers, tracing the swollen lines, careful not to press too hard. His breath caught when I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss over the scar just beneath the ink. My lips lingered there, tasting salt and heat and devotion.
“I love you,” I whispered against his skin, voice breaking. “God, Adrian, I love you so much.”
His hand curled around the back of my neck, pulling me closer until our foreheads touched. “Say it again.”
“I love you,” I breathed, and for the first time, I didn’t fight it, didn’t question it.
It was as clear as the ink on his chest—this was where I belonged.
With him. Always. Even if it meant leaving behind everything I thought defined me.
The badge. The mission. The life I built after my father’s death.
None of it mattered anymore. Only him. Only us.
“This is my place,” I said silently to myself. With Adrian. Not the police. Not the ghosts. Him.
He kissed me slow and deep, the kind of kiss that left me trembling even after he pulled back.
“Tonight,” he said, voice low but steady, “we have dinner at the casino.”
I blinked, the sudden shift from intimacy to business jarring. “Dinner?”
His lips curved faintly. “Not just dinner. A statement. I spoke with the Mancinis—they’ll stand with us. We’ll put pressure on the De Laquas, remind them who has ruled this city for decades.”
His tone darkened, steel sliding beneath velvet.
“Supremacy isn’t spoken, Amanda. It’s shown. Tonight, they’ll see it.”
A chill prickled over my skin, worry slicing through the haze of love. “Adrian… everything points to the De Lacquas. Every single thread I’ve been pulling leads back to them. What if—”
He silenced me with another kiss, firmer this time, his hand cupping my jaw. When he pulled back, his eyes burned into mine, fierce and unyielding.
“You don’t need to worry about any of that,” he said. “Not tonight. Not ever. All I want from you is this—you put on a beautiful dress, walk into that casino at my side, and make every jaw drop. That’s your only job.”
Heat flushed through me, a mix of desire and nerves. The way he said it—like I was his crown, his shield, his proof of power—made me shiver.
I swallowed hard, nodding even as my pulse hammered. “That’s all?”
His smirk was pure sin, tempered with tenderness. “That’s everything, mia regina.”
And somehow, I believed him.
Bella leaned back, her brush still in hand, a proud smile curving her lips. “There. Perfect. I knew silver was your color.”
I turned toward the mirror, almost startled at the reflection staring back.
The satin clung to me like liquid moonlight, cool and smooth against my skin.
Bella had coaxed my hair into loose waves, my makeup soft but defined, making my eyes seem darker, sharper.
I looked like someone else. No—not someone else.
I looked like the woman I was becoming. Adrian’s woman.
“You’re staring,” Bella teased, bumping my shoulder. “Careful, or you’ll fall in love with yourself.”
A laugh broke from me, light, unguarded. “Maybe I should.”
She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Between us? I think one of the Esposito men has been staring at me lately. You know, the tall one with the ridiculous dimples? Maybe I should start falling in love with him instead.”
I arched a brow. “Bella. Are you telling me you’re plotting a mafia romance of your own?”
Her grin was wicked and girlish all at once. “Don’t tell my brother. He’d lock me in a tower.”
We laughed, the sound bouncing through the room, and for a heartbeat, it felt like I really had a sister. Like I belonged here.
The knock on the door silenced us.
When I looked up, my breath caught. Adrian stood in the doorway, suit tailored sharp to his frame, black and commanding, his tie knotted perfectly. He was devastating in a way that stole my words. His eyes moved over me slowly, deliberately, and when they found mine again, they burned.
“Bella,” he said smoothly, though his gaze never left me, “I’ll be taking my queen now.”
Bella rolled her eyes, muttering something about possessive cavemen, but I barely heard. My heart was pounding too loud.
Adrian extended his hand. I rose, and the way his fingers closed around mine—firm, claiming, reverent—made the world tilt.
His gaze swept me once more, head to toe, and his voice came low and rough, like gravel. “You’re beautiful. Breathtaking.”
The words hit deeper than I expected. My throat tightened, heat rushing to my cheeks. I should’ve looked away, should’ve brushed it off with some teasing remark—but I couldn’t. Not when he was looking at me like that, as if I really was a queen. As if I was his entire world.
“My queen,” he murmured then, leaning close enough that only I heard.
Heat spread through me, dizzying, and I followed him out as if tethered, unable to break away.
We walked the corridor together, his stride purposeful, mine anchored to his. We passed his office, and I might’ve missed it if not for the flicker of light—the lamp on the desk snapping on, casting a warm glow against the glass.
Adrian slowed. I followed his gaze.
His hand was still wrapped around mine, warm and solid, grounding me as we stepped toward his office. I felt beautiful, untouchable, his queen in silver satin.
Then I saw her.
Giuliana sat behind his desk, the lamp casting her face half in light, half in shadow. Papers fanned out before her like weapons, deliberate, waiting.
“Adrian. Amanda,” she said, her voice calm but carrying weight that settled in my stomach like stone. “Before you go, I need to show you something.”
The air shifted. My skin prickled.
Adrian’s hand tightened around mine. Something inside me lurched. My breath caught, and my chest tightened as every possible scenario ran wild in my mind. The Delacquas. The Mancinis. Some ancient vendetta. A betrayal in the city. Anything—anything but this.
“Amanda,” Giuliana began, her tone calm, too calm. “When I first received your résumé, it was… perfect. Too perfect. So I did what any mother would do. I made my own research.”
My heart stopped.
I dropped Adrian’s hand without realizing, my body recoiling, desperate to undo this moment, to wake up from it. One step back, then another, as if distance could save me.
“No…” The word scraped out of me, small, broken.
Adrian turned to me, confusion darkening his eyes. “What is she talking about?”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in, and Giuliana’s voice cut through it all, sharp and merciless.
“I have contacts,” she continued, her gaze fixed on me. “And your first name, Amanda, is real enough. But your last name is not Carter, as you told my children. Your real name is Amanda Whitmore.”
The sound of it—my true name on her tongue—made my knees buckle. I gripped the edge of the doorway to keep from collapsing.
“I—Adrian, I’m sorry,” I choked, words tumbling out, desperate, useless. “This isn’t—I—”
But I couldn’t finish. My throat closed.
His eyes snapped between me and his mother, confusion twisting into something darker, harder.
Giuliana didn’t falter. “Amanda Whitmore,” she said, each syllable deliberate, “is a police officer. Working with FBI. She resigned her post to come here. Undercover. And you, figlio mio—” she turned to Adrian, her voice heavy with both triumph and sorrow—“you were her target.”
The lamp above the desk brightened suddenly, casting light across the room. My stomach plummeted.
Because there it was—my board. My meticulous board with strings and notes and photos, the same one I’d worked on night after night, trying to prove myself, trying to protect him.
But Giuliana had littered it with other papers, other photographs.
Official ones. Badges. Reports. Me, in a crisp police uniform, staring back at him from the glossy prints. Proof. Evidence. My betrayal laid bare.
“No—no, please,” I whispered, falling to the ground because my legs wouldn’t hold me anymore. The cold marble bit into my knees, but I barely felt it. Tears blurred everything. “Adrian, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s not what it looks like, I never meant to—”
He stood there frozen, eyes locked on me. Not touching. Not moving. Just staring, as though he didn’t recognize me at all.
The silence was worse than screaming. Worse than any curse.
I reached for him, my hand shaking, but he didn’t move. Didn’t reach back.
“Adrian,” I begged, my voice shattering. “Please. I love you.”
But the words seemed to fall into nothing.