Page 163 of The Savage

Of course he did.

The special room waits behind an unassuming door. Same narrow cot. Same small window. Same hush that once held our secrets and our fear and our want.

He closes the door behind us.

This time, there’s no urgency. No fear of footsteps outside and no countdown ticking in our heads.

He reaches for me slowly, deliberately, as if the moment deserves patience. I help him undress, my fingers relearning him like it’s a vow written in touch. He does the same for me, reverent, unhurried, as though my body is something precious he never intends to take for granted again.

‘Giada,’ he says quietly, forehead resting against mine. ‘I almost lost you.’

‘You didn’t,’ I whisper.

‘I will never let that happen again.’

I cup his face, feeling the stubble under my palms, the strength beneath the restraint. ‘I know.’

We come together gently, deeply, reclaiming each other with no rush. Just a breathtaking closeness and heat. The steady truth of us settling into place.

After, we lie tangled together, his arm around me and my head on his chest. His heartbeat is slow and strong beneath my ear, proof that we’re here. That we survived.

‘I love you,’ he says, voice rough and certain. ‘I’ve loved you longer than I had the right to.’

Tears gather before I can stop them. I lift my head to look at him properly.

‘I love you too,’ I say. ‘I think I always have.’

We don’t need witnesses. We don’t need vows spoken aloud.

We’ve already given each other everything.

And nothing is waiting in the shadows to tear it away.

EPILOGUE

GIADA

Brazil – Two Months Later

The heat is different here. Heavy and alive.

It wraps around us like the city is breathing. Or maybe it’s just the man.

My man.

Renzo’s mouth is on mine, slow and sure, his hand warm at my waist, his thumb brushing the edge of the ring that’s taken up permanent residence on my finger. The diamond is obscene. Unapologetic. Impossible to miss.

He kisses me like he means it. Like there’s nowhere else he needs to be.

‘I love you,’ he murmurs against my lips.

‘I love you,’ I answer back, just as softly, just as certain.

I straighten his collar, smooth my palms down his chest, committing the moment to memory. This is our ritual now. My good-luck kiss. His steadying one.

Narciso walks past us and snorts. ‘Jesus,’ he mutters. ‘Get a room.’

Renzo doesn’t even look away from me. ‘Why do you keep hanging around if you hate it so much?’