Chapter 6 - The Price of Saving a Mafia Boss
Victor Sloane was arrested before midnight.
Evan agreed to cooperate.
The organization fractured.
And for the first time since the storm, nobody was hunting me.
That should have made everything simple.
Instead, Adrian disappeared.
Not literally.
He still lived in the same house.
But suddenly he stopped joining me for breakfast.
Stopped checking whether I needed anything.
Stopped appearing beside me whenever I walked onto the terrace.
After four days, I cornered Luca.
“Where is he?”
“Office.”
“Why is he avoiding me?”
Luca became fascinated by his coffee.
“Luca.”
“He thinks he's protecting you.”
“From what?”
“Himself.”
I groaned.
“Of course he does.”
I walked into Adrian's office without knocking.
“Claire.”
“We need to talk.”
“I have a meeting.”
“Cancel it.”
He almost laughed.
Almost.
“What's wrong?”
“You.”
Silence.
“Excellent opening.”
“Why are you avoiding me?”
He didn't answer.
I walked toward his desk.
“You promised no more lies.”
“I haven't lied.”
“Then answer.”
His chair moved.
“Because the danger is over.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It means you can go back to your life.”
My chest tightened.
“You want me gone?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
I waited.
Adrian sighed.
“That’s exactly the problem.”
He approached.
“When you saved me in that alley, you didn't know my name.”
“No.”
“You didn't know my money.”
“No.”
“My reputation.”
“No.”
“You saved Adrian. Not Moretti.”
“Yes.”
His fingers brushed mine.
“I don't know what to do with that.”
“You could start by asking what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
Then:
“Claire.”
“Don't.”
“You deserve something normal.”
“I hate when people tell me what I deserve.”
“I’m dangerous.”
“You’re also dramatic.”
He laughed.
Finally.
I smiled.
“You think blindness means I don't know who you are?”
“No.”
“I know exactly who you are, Adrian.”
My hand found his chest.
“I hear the way your employees stop talking when you enter. I hear how Luca waits for your approval. I hear the fear in people who cross you.”
I paused.
“And I hear how your voice changes when you say my name.”
His hand covered mine.
“How does it change?”
“Like you're afraid.”
“I am.”
“Of what?”
“Losing you.”
I smiled.
“Then stop trying to.”
He kissed me.
Not like a mafia boss claiming something.
Like a man asking permission.
I kissed him back.
When we separated, Luca's voice came through the closed door.
“Finally.”
Adrian opened it.
“Were you listening?”
“No.”
“You were.”
“Absolutely.”
“Get out.”
Luca laughed all the way down the hallway.
Three weeks later, I returned to my apartment.
Adrian came with me.
My cane tapped the familiar stairs.
“You hate this building,” I said.
“The railing is loose.”
“It has character.”
“It has building-code violations.”
“Same thing.”
We reached my door.
Adrian stopped.
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“I bought the building.”
I froze.
“You what?”
“The landlord planned to sell.”
“Adrian.”
“I didn't buy it for you.”
“Liar.”
“I bought it because the railing is dangerous.”
I started laughing.
The terrifying Adrian Moretti had apparently discovered real estate as a love language.
Then his voice became serious.
“You can stay here as long as you want.”
“And if I want to stay with you?”
His answer was immediate.
“Then I'll spend the rest of my life trying not to ruin it.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It probably will be.”
I kissed him.
May you like
“Good.”
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