Chapter 84
The sun cast a golden glow over the Marcello estate as I stepped out onto the balcony. The cool morning breeze tangled a wayward strand of hair across my forehead while the morning light kissed my cheeks in warmth. Like a queen surveilling her lands, I gazed down on the sprawling grounds and gardens.
Had it really only been a few short months since I’d stood in front of everyone I knew and loved to exchange vows with Aldo Marcello? Honeymooning in the rolling Tuscan countryside had certainly altered my perception of time.
And now … it was back to reality, wasn’t it?
I’d told myself, marrying Aldo, that I knew what my life would be like. That I was all right with it. But the bliss of peace had made me forget, had made me believe, for a fleeting moment, that life could be … different.
But when Aldo had slipped from bed before the sun rose this morning, reality had wrapped its cold fingers around my throat.
The sliding door opened behind me. I whirled, muscles tightening, knees automatically bending into the lightest fighting crouch. Apparently, months away from it all hadn’t dulled my instincts.
Aldo stepped out onto the balcony, a steaming mug of coffee in hand. Just one, because he’d already been up for hours. Working. Working—in a pair of dark slacks and crisp white dress shirt.
My heart fell as I reached for the mug. “You got up early.”
He didn’t respond right away, merely joined me at the balcony. Leaned his elbows against the rail, gazed out over the estate. “You are, too. Couldn’t sleep?”
“No,” I sighed, deciding to let his non-answer slide for now. I leaned next to him, setting my shoulder against his. He was so warm, so sturdy, beside me.
This was why I’d agreed to this life—for him. For us. Because he was a rock in the stormy ocean of the world, and I knew he’d always be at my side. Holding me up.
“Thinking about the family?” he asked, because he knew me, sometimes better than knew myself.
Still, I hesitated before answering. Didn’t look at him when I spoke. “Thinking about what it really means to be part of it.”
“I know.” He turned towards me, and like a flower to the sun, I turned towards him, too. His dark eyes softened to melted chocolate, but his expression stayed hard, serious. “It’s a dangerous life we live, and we have to be ready for it. This world doesn’t give second chances.”
“I know that.” I leaned forward, and his arms wrapped around me to pull me in close. “I just can’t help but wonder if I’m really cut out for it all, you know? I’m afraid … I’m afraid it’ll break me.”
“It won’t.” He pressed soft lips to my temple, just below my hair. “You’re so much stronger than you realize. So much stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“But what if I’m not strong enough?” Even as I spoke the words, I realized they weren’t the ones I really wanted to ask.
“That’s why we train.” Aldo stepped back, smiling. “Come on, it’s been a while since we’ve had a good sparring session. Think you’re rusty?”
I gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “Hell no. Be prepared to have your ass handed to you, Aldo Marcello.”
But as he slipped back into the room to change, the question—the real question—echoed through my mind.
What if this life makes me into something I don’t want to be?
Even after months of training in it, I still found the Marcello training arena impressive. I couldn’t even name half the weaponry here, let alone use them. Hopefully I’d never need to.
Late-morning sun drifted in through the high windows, highlighting stray motes of dust circling the air. Lighting the room in a natural glow without adding any sight-inhibiting rays.
I moved automatically to the punching bag at the far end of the open space, wrapping my knuckles as I walked. Aldo had wanted me to wear gloves to protect my hands.
I’d told him it seemed unlikely I’d have punching gloves in a real fight.
He’d stopped bugging me after that.
My aforementioned and overprotective husband stood on the other side of the punching bag, his own knuckles bare. His gaze assessing as I approached.
“Let’s see what you remember,” he said.
My body fell into its natural fighting stance—feet apart, knees soft, shoulders relaxed. Fists up near my jaw to protect my face.
Breath in—my fist flew. My knuckles cracked solidly against the bag, but Aldo clicked his tongue. “Again.”
“That was my left.” I swung again, harder. Crack.
He smirked. “Better.”
“Don’t look so smug, Mr. Marcello.” I shifted my feet, swung again, twice this time—jab, cross—in rapid succession. “I might think you’re enjoying watching me bounce around.”
“Maybe a little.” His smirk widened as he stepped closer, and suddenly, his hands circled my waist. “But mostly, I just want to make sure you can defend yourself.”
“Oh?” I tilted my chin to look up at him. “You think attackers might try to soften me with cologne and sex appeal?”
His brows arched. “Would it work?”
“Only if there’s a set of smoldering brown eyes and lots of muscles to go along with them.”
He grinned fully, showcasing a wide white smile, and I swear my knees weakened. But instead of leaning in to kiss me, he stepped back. Leaving me cold and, admittedly, a little wanting.
“Let’s see how you do against a real attacker then.” His fists lifted. “Cologne, sex appeal, and all.”
Dammit. Serious Aldo had come to training today. I bit back a groan, but lifted my own fists. “Bring it, Marcello.”
“Ladies first.”
“I’ll make you regret that,” I said, and then I swung. Fake jab, followed by a low hook at his ribs. Aldo sidestepped effortlessly.
His fingers closed around my wrist, and he spun me around.
My shoulders collided with his firm chest.
“Too slow.” His soft breath whispered words against my ear, raised delicious goosebumps along my skin.
So I stomped his foot, drove an elbow backwards towards his gut. He swerved out of range—and I broke free. “Am I?”
“Damn, baby.” He was grinning again, but it was different this time, a little wider, a little less sharp. Almost like—
“You’re impressed!” I crowed. “Admit it! You’re—”
Suddenly, he was right in front of me. Close enough his chest pressed to mine as his fingers gently pulled my wrists down. “Someone let their guard down.”
His words caressed my cheek and slid down the side of my neck. I couldn’t contain the little moan that slipped through my parted lips. “I surrender. Take me, I’m yours.”
I tilted my head up, and this time, he didn’t deny me. His lips melded to mine, soft and supple and warm. “But this means I win.”
“I concede.”
His hands curved over my cheeks, rough callus just brushing soft skin. And I let him kiss me, fully and deeply. In that moment, it was just us. Me and him, and nothing else in the world mattered.
Until he leaned back, and it all crashed back in. “We still have to train, Layla.”
I heard the words he didn’t say, too. It’s what this life requires.
Everything in me ached to protest. To beg him to let us have one more night, curled up together. Enjoying life—but I knew those days were behind us.
Even still, the words escaped on a sigh. “I don’t know if I can do it again, Aldo. If I can … be what I need to be.”
“Of course you can.” His thumbs stroked my cheeks, and he dropped a soft, chaste kiss to my lips. “You are and always will be strong.”
“And if”—I swallowed—“if being strong means I have to kill again?”
Aldo didn’t look away. “Then you do what you have to do to survive. To protect Eli. To protect us.”
The weight of his words settled deep in my chest. But I knew he was right.
