Page 236 of Forced Vows

"Only for you, mi dolce fiore. Only for you."

We christen his studio in the best way possible. Afterward he carries me to the bedroom and tells me he likes the new decor, even the mauve duvet cover.

The room is a mixture of mauve and midnight blue. On the far wall, here is a picture, but it's not a painting.

It's a blowup of one of the photos from the photo shoot. In it we were spinning, and my dress is flying around us. My hand is on his neck and his head is bent toward me.

And our love for each other shines like a thousand-watt bulb.

"It's us." He walks forward and touches the frame. "Our feelings are right there for everyone to see. This is the picture that should be hanging in the living room."

What am I going to do with this guy? "Could you maybe stop saying such perfect stuff? I like the painting in the living room. It's like a love letter from you."

Even though I didn't realize that the first time I saw it.

"I like it too," he admits.

"Good, because we're not hanging the painting where my legs are spread."

A wicked grin on his face, he turns back to me. "What will you give me to keep it for just us?"

"Anything you want." Because I want to give him everything.

"That's a generous offer." He twirls one of my curls around his finger and tugs. "But I will never allow another to see you in that way."

"I know," I say breathlessly.

He tugs me closer. "I don't want to keep our families out of our home."

"I don't either."

"I've been thinking about what you said about my father's portraits. I think that my family deserves to have the paintings that reflect his love for them."

"I do too. But are you ready for that?"

"I will be. Eventually, but I'm ready now for them to know about my own art. I know I will be a good don. I need to be sure that Sev sees me as I am though, before he names me as his successor."

"I'm pretty sure your brother sees everything in you already. He may not know about your paintings, but I wouldn't take for granted that he doesn't either."

Miceli shrugs, like his brother's opinion isn't what matters. "You know me in ways that no one else does, or ever will, mi vitù. They might see the paintings, but you see the heart of the man who painted them. A heart I believed no longer beat until I met you."

"I thought I hated you."

"But you've always loved me." His gaze dares me to deny it.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you'll get away with murder with me."

"That is literally what I do. Get away with murder."

I can't help grinning, but I roll my eyes. "Not with me you don't."

"No." His expression turns serious. "With you there is no death, only life."

I wrap my arms around his neck. "I love you, Miceli De Luca."

"T'amu mi vitù, from now until eternity."

"Sempre e per sempre," I reply in Italian.

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