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As she picks up a stone and tosses it toward the waves, I can’t recall the last time I was happy. There have been moments, like when I bought Mom her house an hour north of the city, or when Sullivan Security cleared the billion-dollar mark after launching our latest system.

I pick up a stone and hurl it, easily outdistancing Alessandra’s throw. She laughs and accuses me of cheating. As Istare at her, the wind whipping her hair across her face, the swell of her stomach pressing against her dress, I want happiness. Not just for me, but for her.

I opened up to her this morning. Is it possible for me to open up even more, to let her in? To tell her just how closely I came to breaking my mother the same way Lucifer did?

No. She’s accepted my apology. Accepted what she knows about me. But I haven’t told her everything. Doubt flickers inside. Would she even want me to be involved with our son if she found out? Learned how my actions hurt my mother just as badly as Lucifer did? Even though she hadn’t been comparing me to him last night, my assumption had rekindled an old, deep-rooted fear that I was far more like my birth father than I ever thought possible.

I know I can rise above his legacy and be a good father. But can I truly let go of my need to control? Place not only my trust but my heart in Alessandra’s hands? Once I fully let her in, I won’t just be opening the door to her and a future with her. I’ll be giving her the power to betray, to hurt.

I slide my hand in hers, focusing on the sensation of her palm resting intimately against mine as we walk back up the path. For now, I’ll focus on today and the woman at my side.

We find a café tucked away among a sea of houses. We dine on a tomato-cucumber salad drizzled with olive oil and meat and grilled vegetables threaded onto wooden skewers. After lunch we continue on, passing the infamous blue-domed church before Alessandra ducks into a bookshop, the walls packed from ceiling to floor with titles in English, French, German, Chinese and Greek. There’s no rhyme or reason to our wanderings, just the fun of exploring a new place with someone whose company I like. Her enjoyment of the world around us makes me feel like I’m coming out of a deep sleep, one where I’ve been so focusedon my goals of building up Sullivan Security and providing for my mother that I’ve missed out on far more than I realized.

When the air cools as the sun starts to slide down in the sky, we head back toward the villa. As we pass the bar where I found her this morning, the bar where it all began, Alessandra stops.

“Care to join me for a drink?”

Something shifts in my chest. I comprehend the significance of this gesture, what she’s offering me. I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss her fingers.

“I’d like that.”

The waitress greets us with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. She seats us at the same long table that hugs the far wall. Beyond the low stone wall lies the half-moon bay and the rocky wall of the caldera. The view is incredible. But again, just like that night nearly six months ago now, my eyes are drawn to the woman across from me.

I grasp her hand, brush my thumb over her ring.

“The moment I saw this ring, I knew it was yours.”

Her fingers tense in my grasp.

“But…you said Anthony picked it out.”

I raise her hand to my lips, brush her lips across her knuckles the same way I did the night I proposed. But this time I gently scrape my teeth against her skin, savor her sharp inhale.

“No. I said he told me it was the most expensive ring he had. I picked it out.”

I look down at the ring. I knew the moment I saw it I wanted it for her. Even when I told myself it was all for show, I wanted it for my wife.

“Diamonds for your elegance. Emerald for your eyes. And silver for moonlight on your skin.”

Her eyes glisten in the dim lighting. She swallows hard.

“Thank you.”

The raw emotion in her voice seeps into my skin, wraps around my heart with a warmth I never thought possible. Music filters through the air as our waitress sets down my ouzo cocktail and a lavender lemonade for Alessandra. I smile at my wife.

“Dance with me.”

I pull her on to the dance floor, gather her into the circle of my arms. I clasp one of her hands in mine, the contrast of her delicate fingers in my large grasp kindling a sense of protectiveness as I wrap my other arm around her waist. I lean my head against her hair and breathe in. Her scent, roses and that faint hint of dark, sends need straight through my body to my groin.

I hear her sigh, feel her press her hips against me as we sway to the music. My hand tightens on hers.

“Alessandra…”

She leans back and smiles at me. “What?”

I tug her closer again and put my lips to her ear. “Tease.”

I nip her lobe with my teeth, drink in the sound of her gasp, revel in the way her body arches into mine.