Chapter 28
POV: Amanda
I woke to the sting of antiseptic and the sterile hum of machines. My eyelids felt heavy, like they’d been stitched shut, and when I forced them open the world blurred in whites and shadows. The ceiling swam into focus, then the IV taped to my arm, then the bandage tugging tight against my side.
And him.
Adrian.
Slouched in the chair beside me, suit jacket thrown over the back, shirt creased, hair a dark mess like he’d dragged his hands through it a hundred times.
He looked… wrecked. Eyes rimmed red, jaw shadowed with exhaustion.
He wasn’t the king here, not the untouchable King everyone feared.
He was just a man staring at me like I’d almost been ripped out of his world.
His hand covered mine before I could even breathe. “You scared the hell out of me,” he said, voice low and ragged, like it had been sandpapered raw.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, throat dry, words breaking in pieces. “Are you… are you okay?”
A harsh breath tore from him, almost a laugh, almost a sob.
He leaned closer, forehead nearly to mine.
“I’m okay because of you. Because you—” He broke off, teeth clenching, eyes blazing with a fury that wasn’t for me but for what had almost happened.
“You took a fucking bullet for me, Amanda. You could’ve died.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and it gutted me more than the pain in my ribs.
“I couldn’t let them touch you,” I murmured. “Not you.”
The door clicked open before he could answer.
Bella slipped inside, carrying two steaming cups of coffee, her hair a wild halo like she hadn’t slept either.
“She’s awake,” she said, relief flooding her tone.
She set one of the cups on the side table and shoved the other into Adrian’s hand. “Drink before you collapse, cavaliere.”
I blinked, reality crawling back into focus. Bella. She’d been here too. Not leaving him. Not leaving me.
Adrian took the cup but didn’t look away from me. Something clicked in his eyes then, sharp and sudden, like a piece of the puzzle finally fit. “This isn’t what spies do,” he said softly, almost accusing, but his thumb stroked over my knuckles. “Taking a bullet for someone… that isn’t the job.”
My chest tightened. It was the truth or nothing now. “Since the first day, I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t be the spy they wanted. I wasn’t playing bodyguard, Adrian. I was being one. Because I… because I liked you. From the start. And everything after that—it wasn’t duty. It was me.”
Silence stretched, heavy as a verdict. His stare burned into me, stripping every layer until I swore he could see the marrow of me. He was deciding who would win—the man who loved me, or the one who felt betrayed—and every beat of my heart was a prayer for the first.
And then, finally, his lips crushed down on mine.
His hands framed my face, pulling me into him like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go.
It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t soft. It was raw and desperate, full of all the fear and fury and need we’d swallowed for too long.
I kissed him back with everything in me, greedy, aching, alive.
His tongue slid against mine and it felt like coming home, like warmth flooding into all the frozen places of my chest.
Love, fierce and consuming, pulsed through me.
My fingers tangled in his shirt, dragging him closer. God, I needed him. Needed him to know it was real. But the force of it made a sharp sting flare through my ribs, and a moan slipped from me. He stopped instantly, resting his forehead against mine, his breath hot and uneven against my lips.
“Sorry,” he murmured, voice gravel rough. “You almost died. I need to remember to be gentle…” He paused, the ghost of a smile flickering across his mouth. “At least in the beginning.”
A choked laugh escaped me, the movement pulling at the wound. “If taking a bullet for you doesn’t prove my loyalty, I don’t know what else will.”
His smirk brushed against my lips, wicked and tender all at once.
And then—
A pointed cough.
We broke apart to find Bella leaning against the wall, cradling her coffee with a grin sharp enough to cut glass. “Seriously? A hospital bed? Get a room, you two.”
Heat flooded my face, but Adrian didn’t even blink. He glanced at her once, dismissive, then back at me like I was the only thing that mattered. His mouth brushed mine again, softer this time, reverent. “I already have one,” he muttered.
Bella groaned, muttering something about hopeless idiots, but I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled through the ache in my chest. It hurt to laugh—but it hurt more not to.
For the first time, it felt like we’d survived.
A week in the hospital felt like a lifetime. The beeping monitors, the smell of antiseptic that clung to everything, the scratchy sheets. But through all of it, Adrian never left my side.
He was there when I opened my eyes in the morning and when I drifted off at night, his hand wrapped around mine like an anchor. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but I saw it—the shadows under his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped only when he thought I was asleep.
On the fourth day, he finally told me what had happened.
“The DeLacquas that aren’t dead packed up and left town,” he said, voice low, brushing my hair back from my forehead. “The Mancinis? They’re finished. Arrested, every last one of them worth catching. The DeLucas are untouchable now. Royalty.”
Safe. For the first time in forever, I could breathe without expecting the world to collapse.
By the end of the week, the doctors cleared me to go home. Adrian insisted on driving me himself, though I suspected he just didn’t trust anyone else with me.
When we pulled up to the De Luca mansion, I wasn’t prepared for what waited at the door.
Riccardo stood there, grinning so wide his cheeks must’ve hurt, clutching a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand and balloons in the other. The sight of him nearly knocked the air out of me.
“Riccardo,” I whispered, and before I knew it, I was in his arms. His hug was tight, boyish, almost lifting me off the ground. My chest ached, but I didn’t care. He was warm, alive, happy, and I felt tears sting my eyes.
“Finally,” he said, muffled into my hair.
A laugh broke from me, shaky but real, and when I pulled back Bella was there too, smirking with a coffee cup in hand.
“Thank God you’re home,” she said, pulling me into her arms. “I was about two more cups of that hospital sludge away from committing a crime.”
I hugged her hard, feeling her warmth, her sarcasm like a balm. But when I pulled back, the air shifted.
Giuliana was there. Adrian’s mother. The woman who had seen through me. The one who had called me what I was—a spy.
The tension pressed down on the room. My body stiffened, heart hammering like it might rip my stitches open. I stood there, unsure if she’d spit venom, if she’d demand I leave again.