Page 58 of His Bride

Before I can react, Adriana lifts her face to mine. Her lips press against my bloodied ones, soft and warm. The kiss is gentle, mindful of my injuries, but it ignites a fierce need within me.

When she pulls back, I see a mix of emotions in her eyes - fear, relief, and an emotion that makes my heart race faster than any fight ever could.

I can’t hold back any longer. My hands cup her face, rough and desperate, as I crash my lips against hers. The taste of copper mingles with her sweetness, and I drink her in like a man dying of thirst. Every nerve in my body is on fire, alive with a need I’ve never felt before.

When we break apart, breathless, the words tumble out before I can stop them. “I love you, Adriana,” I rasp, my voice raw with emotion. “God help me, I love you more than I thought possible.”

For a heartbeat, the world stands still. I’ve laid myself bare, vulnerable in a way I’ve never been before. The silence stretches, and I feel a flicker of fear. What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I’ve misread everything?

But then Adriana’s eyes light up, a smile breaking across her face like the sun after a storm. “Dante,” she breathes, her hands clinging to my shirt. “I love you too. I think I have for a while now.”

Relief floods through me, so intense it’s almost painful. I pull her close, burying my face in her hair, inhaling her scent. For the first time in my life, I feel… whole. Complete. As if all the broken, jagged pieces of me have finally found their place.

“You’re mine,” I say against her skin, the possessiveness in my tone tempered by a newfound tenderness. “And I’m yours. Always.”

Chapter Twenty

Adriana

I emerge from the car, greeted by the salty tang of the sea carried on a gentle breeze. Valentina’s family residence stands before me, a pretty vision in white set against the vibrant azure expanse of the sky. The sun casts a radiant glow upon the building, illuminating intricate architectural details that speak of elegance and tradition. The sight of this familiar abode washes over me, bringing a sense of comfort and familiarity that soothes the tension coiled within my stomach.

My footsteps crunch on the gravel path. Potted lemon trees line the walkway, their fruit gleaming like tiny suns. I pause, running my fingers over a rough leaf. The texture grounds me.

“Deep breaths, Adriana,” I mumble, approaching the heavy wooden door.

My knuckles barely graze the surface when it swings open. Morgan stands there, Valentina’s sister, her brown eyes warm and welcoming.

“Adriana! Thank God you’re here.” She pulls me into a fierce hug. The scent of her flowery perfume envelops me.

“How is she?” I ask, my voice muffled against her shoulder.

Morgan releases me, her expression somber. “She’s… managing. Come, I’ll take you to her room.”

We climb the winding staircase, family photos lining the walls. I catch glimpses of Valentina’s beaming face through the years. My chest tightens.

Morgan leads me down a hallway and stop before a door adorned with a colorful “V” painted in Valentina’s signature style. Morgan gives my hand a gentle squeeze before pushing the door open.

Valentina sits propped up on her bed, surrounded by a sea of pastel pillows. Her usually vibrant face is pale, dark circles shadowing her eyes. But when she sees me, her smile lights up the room.

“Adri!” she exclaims, her voice hoarse but filled with warmth.

I rush to her side, careful not to jostle the bed as I wrap my arms around her. She feels fragile, like a bird with hollow bones. Tears sting my eyes.

“Val, I’m so sorry,” I choke out, pulling back to look at her. “I should’ve been there at the hospital. I should’ve—”

Valentina shakes her head, cutting me off. “Don’t you dare, Adriana Moretti. This isn’t your fault.”

I can’t meet her gaze, my fingers tracing the pattern on her comforter. “But if I hadn’t been so caught up in my own drama, maybe I could’ve—”

“Hey,” Valentina interrupts, her hand finding mine. Her grip is surprisingly strong. “Look at me.”

I reluctantly raise my eyes to hers.

“You’re here now,” she says firmly. “That’s what matters. Our friendship, that’s what matters. Not what-ifs or could-have-beens.”

Her words soothe the raw edges of my guilt, but can’t erase it completely. “How are you feeling?” I ask, scanning her face for signs of pain.

Valentina attempts a shrug, wincing slightly. " Sore, like I went ten rounds with a heavyweight champ. But the doctor says I’m healing well.”

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