Page 51 of The Mafioso’s Bride

“You are also very good at threatening men.”

“One of my better qualities.” His mouth curves, then flattens. “I will make mistakes with you. I’m asking you to accept those parts of me while I learn to do better. You owe me nothing. I’m asking my wife to choose me.”

My family taught me that acceptance moved in one direction. I changed myself, and they tolerated whatever remained.

Luca names the parts of himself that can hurt us. He does not require me to call them virtues.

“You accept all of me?”

“I do more than accept you. I love your honesty, your routines, your corrections, your blue shirt, your mind, and your body.” He touches the pin. “I love my tardigrade.”

My shoulders pull toward my ears. “Are you mocking me?”

“Never.” He kneels on the stone path in front of me. Moisture darkens his trousers. “You are tiny, stubborn, and extraordinarily resilient. Your family tried to crush what they did not value. They failed.”

“Tardigrades are not indestructible. They can die from heat, dehydration, radiation, chemicals, or physical damage.”

“Neither are you.” His gaze holds mine. “You can be hurt. Resilient doesn’t mean nothing reaches you. It means they failed to destroy you.”

The damp room blurs. Water slips down both cheeks. Luca remains on his knees. He does not wipe my face or ask me to stop.

“You left their house with one suitcase and brought more courage into mine than it had ever held,” he says. “You are my tardigrade. You will remain my wife only if you choose me.”

He found me because he listened. He asks for my flaws while placing his own between us.

“I choose you, Luca.”

His shoulders drop. He bows over our joined hands and presses his forehead to my knuckles.

“May I touch you?”

“Yes. Firmly.”

He rises and gathers me against him. One arm locks around my waist while the other holds my shoulders to his body. Pressure surrounds me from collarbone to hips.

“I love you,” I say against his collar.

His body goes rigid.

I lift my face. “You stopped moving.”

“I need to listen to you say it again.”

“I love you.” I move close enough for my mouth to brush his.

His mouth covers mine. The kiss has none of his usual restraint. His palm cups the base of my skull while his other arm keeps me against him. Heat returns to every place the January air reached.

When he lifts his head, his forehead rests against mine. “You came here to release me.”

“I had incomplete information.”

“Do you have enough now?”

“Yes.” I touch the damp hair at his temple. “Take me home and prove again that you want your wife.”

Luca

The driver meets us outside the conservatory. Giada's suitcase rests beside her feet in the rear of the car. Her hand lies inside mine, palm against palm, while snow runs down the windows in narrow trails.