MIA
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The harsh words rolled off Rom’s lips as he drove into the parking garage of his condominium.
I had just finished playing the recording. The one in which my father admitted to working with the same family that had killed Romolo’s dad.
“You were right,” I said softly. “And I was just too naive to even consider it.”
His hand moved to my thigh. “He hid it from you well,” he said, slowing the car to a final stop. “Even I started to doubt our suspicions after I’d spent months chasing dead ends and finding no proof.”
“Here it is now.” Dad had no idea I’d recorded his confession. He probably didn’t think I was capable of outsmarting him.
Romolo shut off the engine and the car went quiet. “What do you want to do with this?”
I turned the recorder in my palm. For such a small thing, it was surprisingly heavy. As was the decision I had to make.
“If the last twenty-four hours have taught me anything, it’s that blood doesn’t make a family,” I said. “It’s our actions, our words, and the choices we make. You had no idea what would happen when you came for me, Rom, but you did it anyway.” I rolled my lips and raised my gaze to his face.
His brow was furrowed.
“I want you to have this,” I said. “These people already tried to kill you once. I can’t just sit back and wait for them to try again. If my father gets elected, they’ll have too much power. It has to stop.”
His eyes dropped to the recorder in my hand. He didn’t take it yet. He was still giving me an out.
“Are you sure?”
“I want to keep you safe. If this helps, then it’s worth it.”
“This is enough to end your dad’s campaign and earn him jail time. Are you really ok with that?”
“It’s yours, Rom.”
His fingers brushed mine as he took the recorder. His expression softened, though I could still see the war playing out behind his eyes. He didn’t want me to regret it later.
I wouldn’t. Not for this. Everything was different now. My priorities had changed.
Doing what felt right to me wasn’t selfish—I saw that now. It just meant honoring my own truth. Listening to my gut.
And right now, my gut screamed at me to do everything I could to keep Romolo safe.
“Thank you,” he said, slipping the device inside his jacket.
“You probably want to take that to your brother.”
Romolo reached over and pushed a strand behind my ear. “He can wait.”
A smile pulled on my lips. “Time to show me your lair?”
Warmth sparkled in his gaze. “You ready?”
I nodded. So ready. I was curious to see where he lived. All this time, I couldn’t come here because we couldn’t be seen together.
Now we could do whatever the hell we wanted. God, it was sweet.
The elevator ride was fast, and my heart thumped inside my chest as the screen counted up to the penthouse floor.
Finally, we stepped into his abode. The scent of cedar and clean leather hit my nose as he led me through the foyer.
The space was sleek and masculine—dark floors, warm lighting, rugs that softened each footstep—but it was also lived in. Plants were tucked in corners. Books and records sat out on surfaces.
It smelled like him. It felt like him.
And I already loved it.
He led me through the living room, past a movie playing on the TV, to the window that stretched from floor to ceiling. Manhattan sprawled beneath us, glittering and infinite.
A moment later, his arms wrapped around me from behind, his lips brushing my neck.
My eyes fluttered shut. “Rom?”
“Yeah, Berry?”
“Has it hit you yet?” I whispered. “We don’t have to hide anymore.”
He pressed a kiss just behind my ear. “You mean I get to show you off? Walk into a room with you on my arm?”
I giggled, leaning into him. “Yeah.”
“I’m torn,” he murmured. “Between proudly displaying you to the world and keeping you all to myself.”
I turned in his arms, placing my hands on his chest. “Option two. At least for a little while.” My teeth sunk into my bottom lip and Rom’s gaze dropped to my mouth.
“How’s your head?” he asked, tightening his hold on me.
“It’s just a cut.” I slipped my palm between us and stopped when I reached the bulge in his slacks. “Not nearly enough to prevent me from getting what I want.”
A low groan slipped past his throat and he scooped me up like I weighed nothing. “Have I ever mentioned how much I love it when you’re not shy about it?”
“Not in words. But it’s loud and clear now.”
He carried me toward the hallway, but halfway there, he paused, turned, and headed toward the coffee table. With me still in his arms, he crouched to grab the remote, and turned off the TV.
I arched a brow. “Saving electricity?”
He chuckled and placed a kiss on the tip of my nose. “No distractions.”
Dark bedroom. Cool sheets. His warmth melting into mine.
Strong hands slid beneath my shirt. A thousand butterflies stirred in my belly.
The world saw this man as rough, brutal, cold. A man built to break things.
But I knew better.
I’d seen the tenderness. The patience. The way he held me like I was something sacred.
And maybe, just maybe, I was. To him.
My fingers curled into his shirt. “You asked me once who took care of me. I didn’t have an answer back then. I do now.”
The gray in his eyes softened and he leaned down, pulling gently on my bottom lip. “Always, Berry.”
I smiled against his mouth, something fierce and beautiful blooming in my chest.
With him, I didn’t have to shrink myself. I didn’t have to play small or quiet down the parts of me that wanted more.
With him, I was safe to be exactly who I was.
And for the first time in my life, love didn’t feel like a sacrifice.
It felt like freedom.
