Page 32 of Wanton

He pulls me toward the dark, and I hold him in the light. We're not king and captive, conqueror and conquered. We're evenly matched.Principessaand underboss. We'redestino.

I've never been happier. Even though our world is nowhere near steady in its orbit, I feel centered in a way I never have.

For the first time in my life, I feel…hope. It flutters in my chest like the fragile wings of a butterfly. Every hour with him, it grows stronger. Even with the sword hanging over our heads, I feelalive.

I can't lose that now. I can't lose him.

"Please be careful," I whisper, pressing my face to his chest. His heart beats beneath my ear, strong and steady. "Come back to me."

"Sempre," he promises. His lips touch mine in a gentle kiss. "Ti amo, bella."

"Ti amo, Luca."

Once Luca and Antonio leave, I hang out in the kitchen with Ricardo and Alessio. They refuse to play poker with me again.

"You aren't visiting your wife today?" I ask Ricardo, watching as he builds a house of cards with surprisingly nimble hands.

"I'll go later," he says.

My brows pull down. "Luca asked you to hang around to help babysit, didn't he?" I guess.

Ricardo chuckles. "I don't believe he put it quite that way, no."

I grumble under my breath. Of course Luca asked him to stay. He usually leaves Antonio and Alessio with me.

"Why doesn't he have more men?" I ask Alessio.

"Doesn't want them." Alessio shrugs.

"Why not?"

"Ask him."

I huff. Getting Alessio to engage in conversation is a study in frustration. The man rarely speaks more than a word or two at a time. I know he has more to say though. I always see it lurking behind his eyes. There's an entire world going on in there. He simply chooses not to share it. It's mildly infuriating because I like to know things.

"Does Gabriel have more men?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Alessio's lips twitch. "You ask a lot of questions,principessa."

"And you answer none of them."

"Gabriel has himself," he says with a shrug. "It's what he prefers. Ask him why."

Well, I suppose that's better than nothing.

Alessio stands abruptly. "I need to go check the property." His unyielding gaze settles on me. "Stay here, please."

"Yes, sir," I retort sarcastically, saluting him. I didn't plan on leaving the kitchen anyway. Antonio usually checks the property every hour, but I guess since he's not here, the task falls to Alessio. I don't intend to make his job more difficult.

I've been a model…whatever I am. I'm no longer even sure. I'm not a captive, but I'm not free to leave yet, either. We're in limbo, waiting for my father to decide whether he's willing to bend his knee.

Please, God, let him bend, I pray. It's the only way this whole nightmare ends with a whimper instead of a roar. It's the only way all three of them—my father, Luca, and Marcello—survive.

Alessio shakes his head at me, humor in his gaze, and then strides from the kitchen. I watch Ricardo for several long moments, fascinated by how quickly and efficiently he grows his little tower of cards.