The Way I Love Her (Murderously Romantic #3)

Chapter 1

To The Woman I Love

I can’t believe it’s already been two weeks since I saw you. I miss you like crazy. —Enzo

Enzo

I’ve been in love with the same woman since we were kids—two troublemakers, climbing trees and daring the world to catch us.

Isolde was always beautiful, but not just on the outside. Her kindness, her fire—it drew me in long before I understood what it meant to want someone, truly want them.

I haven’t seen her since I was fourteen.

That’s the year my papa dragged me into his world of bloodshed and corruption, tearing me away from everything pure and innocent.

I’m not the boy I was then—too stained, too broken.

I can’t touch her with these hands. Not when I’m tainted by the things I’ve done, by the monster I’ve become.

I’ve watched her from the shadows all these years, just enough to make sure she’s safe, that she’s still out there in the world, living her life.

But when I found out she was engaged, something inside me shattered.

I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep torturing myself by looking at a life that’ll never be mine.

She’ll get the life she deserves—the one I could never offer her.

The white picket fence, the husband who can look her in the eyes without secrets lingering between them, the certainty that she’ll always be his number one.

As for me? I’m condemned to a life of solitude, drowning in blood and violence, always wondering what it would feel like to be truly loved.

“You look miserable,” Dante drawls, clapping me on the back as he takes a seat next to me at the bar. The music pounds in my ears, and drunkards stumble around me, but it barely registers. All I can focus on is the pain I feel inside.

I grunt at him which just makes him chuckle then order a round of shots.

“What sorrows are you drowning?” He slides a shot glass towards me, which I take, knocking back the liquid immediately. It burns on the way down, the sensation a slight reprieve from my mind's woes.

I don’t answer, just indicate for him to pass me another.

He wouldn’t understand even if I could tell him. Which I can’t. No one can ever know that the infamous Russo is hopelessly in love with a woman he can never have. They can’t know that I’m drowning myself in booze because today is the day before she gets married.

I told myself I’d stopped keeping tabs on her. And for the most part, that’s true. It’s been over a year since I actively sought out any information about her. But the wedding invite I received a few weeks ago burns a hole in my pocket.

Lucas Delaney and Isolde Romano joyfully invite you to celebrate their union in marriage.

Date: 11/10/2025

Time: 2pm

Location: The Grand Verizon Hotel

Please join us for an evening of love, laughter, and celebration.

Kindly RSVP by 11/10/2024

We look forward to sharing this special day with you!

With love,

Lucas there was no hiding anything from her. She might have been a year younger than me, but she was far wiser than anyone gave her credit for.

I had raked my fingers through my hair, staring up at the night sky. We were lying on the blanket we’d claimed as ours, the one we always brought out with us. It was our thing—watching the stars, talking about everything and nothing.

“I’m moving,” I’d finally said, the words sticking in my throat before I could force them out.

Her head had snapped towards me, but I kept my gaze on the sky, trying to hold it together.

I’d known what I’d see if I looked at her—her honey-blonde hair falling in waves, her face tanned from all those hours in the sun, and those dark blue eyes.

I didn’t need to see them to know they were filled with pain.

But I looked anyway. Because how could I not?

I’ve loved her for as long as I can remember, though I didn’t know what it was for a long time. I’d never wanted to be anywhere else but with her. Her presence was the one thing that always calmed me. She was my home, my safe place.

“Where are you going?” she’d asked, and her bottom lip had been trembling. I remember the way my chest ached. All I could think about was how much I wanted to kiss her, to take her lip between mine, to make her forget everything else.

“America,” I’d said. “Papa’s making me go.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, running down her cheeks. I reached out, my thumb brushing them away.

“Will we keep in contact?” she whispered.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat. “I promise, Cuore mio.”

We stayed in touch for the first year. This was back before mobile phones were common, so we wrote letters. Waiting for hers was agony, but when they arrived, they were the only light in the darkness that had become my world.

After I took my first life, I knew I couldn’t keep her in mine. My world was dangerous—too dangerous for someone like her. So, I did the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I stopped replying.

She sent ten more letters after I went silent. Then came the last one. That letter shattered me.

Those words ripped my heart out and shattered my fifteen-year-old self's soul. But even then, I knew it was for the best. She deserved more than I could give her.

I slam back another shot, just as a hand curls around my bicep. A woman’s sultry voice purrs in my ear, “You look sad, let me make you feel better.”

I look at her out of the corner of my eye.

I imagine if I were any other man I wouldn’t hesitate to jump at the chance to fuck her.

Hell, if it were another night, I probably would too.

She’s beautiful; anyone with eyes can see that.

Chestnut brown hair cascading down her back in waves, bright amber eyes that are highlighted by long lashes and dark smokey makeup.

Her lips are painted cherry red to match her teasingly short dress.

But it does nothing for me. My dick is soft, not even a stir as I look at her. She’s not my Izzy.

“No thanks.” I shrug her arm off, and she pouts, not taking the hint.

“Come on, you’re not really going to turn me down, are you?” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger, trying to look seductive, then moves in closer to me. Her hand snakes over my chest, traveling lower, but I catch it with one of mine, gripping her wrist tightly.

I shove back from my chair so forcefully it clatters to the floor. I can tell my expression is murderous because she visibly gulps and tries to twist her wrist from my grasp.

“Touch me again, and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes so fast,” I seethe, tightening my grip further and flashing my gun holstered at my waist, before I push her away from me.

She stumbles back, eyes wide with fear as she disappears into the crowd.

Dante claps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”

I shrug him off. He’s the closest thing I have to a best friend—in this country anyway—but I’m not in the mood for him tonight.

I move through the crowd with purpose, my presence parting them like the Red Sea. They avoid eye contact, don’t dare approach, not when they can see the storm behind my eyes.

My office is upstairs. I should have stayed up there, but I had the stupid idea that being alone would be worse for my thoughts. Turns out nothing will improve them tonight.

The door crashes shut behind me, the sounds of the music downstairs now just a low hum thanks to the soundproofing.

I swipe the bourbon from the table at the side of the room, drop into my desk chair, and take a swig straight from the bottle, letting it warm my insides for a moment before the ice freezes back over.

My phone dings, and I heave a sigh, dragging my hand down my face before checking the screen. It’s the group chat, and for the first time tonight, a genuine smile tugs at my lips.

Carina: Cupcake just threw up on Nate’s favourite blanket.

Carina. I met her when she was scared and alone, desperate to disappear.

Normally, I’d handle a case like hers and move on.

But there was something about her that made me stay, made me want to help beyond my usual capacity.

We’ve never been anything more than friends—my heart’s too tangled up with someone else to even consider it—but our friendship runs deeper than blood.

Tess: Nate has a favourite blanket?

Kai: You’re not really surprised, are you?

Tess is my half-sister. Same father, different mothers. We found out only a few months ago. Her boyfriend, Kai, is best friends with Nate—Carina’s fiancé.

Tess: Why are you texting me from your office?

Kai: Because if I come see you, you’ll start yapping.

Tess: Rude. But fair.

Tess: Actually, I have news!

Tess: Are you guys ready???

Nate: This is a sensitive time for me. I’m mourning a loss.

Kai: Just wash it?

Nate: It’s been violated!

Carina: What’s the news?

Tess: Drumroll please.

Nate: [Drum emojis]

Tess: Kai is the father!

My breath catches. Tess was raped a few months ago. Then, she found out she was pregnant. It’s been hard for her, wondering if her boyfriend is the dad or if the bastard that violated her was.

We’ve all been trying to help her heal. This news will certainly go a long way.

Of course, only Tess would announce it so casually.

Nate: PRINCESS!!! How could you keep this from me?

Carina: Kai literally told you…

Nate: But did you?

Carina: … Yes. We had a whole conversation about this last night.

Nate: Lies. You must have dreamt this.

Enzo: That’s great news Tess.

Maybe I’ll call her in a few days, when I’m less of a mess. For now, their chatter is the only thing giving me a temporary escape from the chaos in my head.

I lift the bourbon bottle again, tipping it back and letting the burn slide down my throat.

Cheers.

To the woman I love.

Getting married.

To someone who isn’t me.