STEFANO RUSSO’S (NERO’S) POV
Throughout the drive to the hotel, sothing kept pulling at my attention—and pissing off. Damien, sitting in the front seat, wouldn’t stop glancing at Zoe through the rearview mirror. She was by the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks, completely unaware of him. But I saw it. I saw every single stolen glance.
And each one burned through .
What the hell is he looking at?
My jaw clenched. I wasn’t usually jealous—not like this—but sothing about his eyes lingering on her made sothing violent coil in my chest. The possessive part of —the mafia part I usually kept caged whenever I was with her—stirred.
Focus on the road or lose your eyes. Your choice, I thought darkly.
By the ti we reached the hotel and checked into separate rooms, my mood had soured, but Zoe... she was out cold the second her head hit the pillow. I let her sleep while I worked on my laptop, though my focus kept drifting to her face. She’d been through too much; exhaustion had carved itself into her features.
She didn’t wake until past midnight. I caught the first slow stretch from the corner of my eye, then the soft sound of her yawning. I closed my laptop without thinking.
She sat up, her white hair a tangled curtain over one shoulder, half hiding her face as she rubbed her eyes like a sleepy child. I felt an unexpected warmth unfurl in my chest.
"Hey, you," I whispered, trying not to disturb the quiet that wrapped around the room.
She blinked at , still dazed, and that gentle smile—God, that smile—pulled sothing loose inside .
"Hey," she murmured between yawns.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better."
She looked around, confused by the darkness outside the windows. "Since when have I been asleep?"
I could’ve told her the truth, but the answer slipped out before I could stop it. "Two years."
She gave a half-hearted glare. "Be serious."
I chuckled. "Five hours."
She stretched again, groaning under her breath. "Gosh. I’m so tired."
"I figured you would be, so I ordered dinner earlier," I said as I stood and walked toward the table. I lifted the cover. "It’s probably cold now though."
"Thanks," she whispered.
I carried the plate back to the bed and sat in front of her. She reached for the cutlery, but I moved it out of her grasp.
"Let feed you," I said softly.
"I can feed myself," she argued, reaching again.
"I’m not asking for your permission," I replied simply.
She stared at —amused, surprised, I couldn’t tell—but she eventually gave a tiny smile. "Fine."
So I fed her. Slowly. Carefully. Whenever she wanted water, I held the glass to her lips. And with each bite, sothing settled in . Sothing softer. Lighter. Being able to care for her like this... it steadied in a way I didn’t know I needed.
After a while, when she was sipping the last of her water, I cleared my throat quietly.
"I’ll be visiting your father today."
Her hand paused mid-movent. She looked up, eyes searching , unreadable.
I continued gently, "Will you co with ?"
Her eyes widened—not with fear, but with sothing more hesitant. Vulnerability. Shock. Hope. She studied , and for once, I let her. I didn’t rush her answer.
"Can I?" she finally whispered.
I shrugged lightly. "I don’t see why not."
What I didn’t say was that I needed her there. Without her, I wasn’t sure how much self-restraint I would have left when facing the man who’d shattered her this way like she ant nothing, who’d made partly the man I was.
She looked away. "He probably wouldn’t want to see ."
Silence pressed down between us, heavier this ti. Her eyes glistened, and I hated myself for being the one who dragged those mories back up.
"I’m not sure about that," I said quietly. "I know your father might be a culprit to you—"
"Not might," she cut in, voice trembling. "He is."
I exhaled softly and moved closer. "Maybe so. But he’s still your father. And I’m sure he misses you."
She didn’t argue—but she didn’t agree either. Her silence told enough.
I lifted her chin gently. "Besides... what could go wrong? I’ll be with you."
Her eyes t mine. Steady. Searching.
"You trust , right?"
She didn’t hesitate. "I do."
And God, I needed to hear that.
I brushed my thumb over her cheek. "Then trust to protect you with my life."
Her lips curled into a small, soft smile. My chest tightened painfully. This woman... she was everything I didn’t know I needed.
"I cherish what we share, Zoe," I murmured, surprising even myself with how raw I sounded. I know that right now, I was not a mafia don, I was a man in love. I was going against every code of being a mafia even if I knew better how dangerous this was for a man, especially a mafia don. "No matter what, I’ll protect it. I may not be the best man out there. I may not be innocent. I may not be your type. But... give the chance to be the best man for you."
Her breath hitched as I traced my finger across her lips. "I’m learning every day. For you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life getting it right."
She stared at —really stared—like she was seeing every unspoken thing in at once. Every broken piece, every sharp edge, every part I never let anyone else touch.
Silence settled between us as we stared at eachother. This must have been the longest statent I’ve ever said, and it must have been the most honest thing I’ve ever said. But I don’t regret any of it. I don’t regret being in love with Zoe, I don’t regret being vulnerable with her. I don’t regret giving myself to her and showing her my weak side. I don’t regret anything that involves her.
About being a good man, that was a promise for her. A promise I swore to keep. I may really not be the best man out there, but for her, I’ll be anything. For Zoe, I’ll be anyone. I didn’t care anymore, and I promise to protect her with the last drop of my blood.
She leaned in and kissed . Soft. Brief. Shy. When she pulled back, her cheeks were warm.
"I don’t doubt your love for ," she whispered. "We didn’t et under the best circumstances, but I do love you, Nero. With everything in . And just like you promised to be the best man for , I’ll be the best woman for you."
My control snapped clean in half. I stared at her, my eyes searching, and then landing on her lips.
"I badly want to kiss you now," I admitted softly in a deep husky voice.
"I badly want you to," she breathed shyly.
That was all the permission I needed.
I leaned in and kissed her—slowly, deeply—letting the weight of everything we weren’t saying move between us. Then I pulled back just enough to breathe against her lips.
"I want to see you naked, Zoe," I whispered, voice rough.
She flushed instantly, but I didn’t give her ti to hide it. I kissed along her jaw, down her neck, letting my mouth explore the soft places that made her gasp. Her fingers slipped around the back of my neck, and I smiled against her skin.
Her reactions—God, they undid .
Soon, the room lted away, and the only thing that existed was the heat rising between us, slow and consuming.
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