Page 44 of Vengeful Mafia Prince

But then I wake up and reach over, and I'm lying next to Giovanni. I'm in his bed in the townhouse that we now share, and I remember what I would have lost if he hadn't made that choice.

I remember that I would never have had any of these moments with him. I would never have been able to drink coffee with him on a Sunday morning or gang up on him with his sister while we both cheat at cards to make him look bad. I would have lost out on being with the love of my life, and no matter what that has cost, it feels right that I'm here with him.

And as though right on cue, I hear someone calling my name. I look up, and there is Giovanni, waving me over to his car. We've got a date tonight. He insists we spend at least one evening out together every week. To show me off, he tells me. I don't think he's joking. At least by the way he looks at me when I get all dressed up for him, it seems serious.

He gets out of the car as he sees me approaching and pulls me into his arms for a kiss. I laugh and draw myself back from him.

"Hey, we're on campus, you know."

"You're a student, not me," he reminds me, pressing his face into my neck. "I'm not breaking any rules doing this."

"Oh, yeah, well, if you go any further, I'm pretty sure you will be."

"Point taken," he grumbles playfully, pulling back from me and opening the door. I get inside, and he climbs in, his hand on my thigh as we pull away from campus.

"So how was your day?"

"Busy," I sigh. "I just got another call from that bakery client. You know the one? And she wants to rush order this collection of stickers for the end of the week."

"Damn, that's tough. You going to be okay? Think you can keep on top of it?"

"Oh, I know I can."

He grins, and brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against the back of it as he drives. "That's my girl."

He's been my biggest cheerleader in getting this project off the ground. I don't know what I would have done without him. From moment one, he has been insistent that I'm going to pull this off with flying colors, telling me over and over again that I can do this, that I have what it takes, that I just have to put my mind to it and I'll be able to pull this off. Even when there have been days when I doubted myself, he's been there to remind me that I'm good at what I do. I can make it work.

And I always do.

It's something I can still hardly believe. The whole time I was focused on making a name for myself in my father's business, I had been so taken in by the belief that working for him was all I could ever be good at. That was all I would ever be able to do. But there's so much more that I'm capable of, somuch more than I could ever have imagined. I'm so much better than what I had grown up believing about myself, and being free from the weight of my father's expectations has allowed me to achieve so much.

Of course, it's not just as simple as not taking a job at his office. Some members of my family have tried to reach out to me, but I've declined their calls and dodged their letters, putting as much space between myself and them as I can. I've even changed my name, matching it to Giovanni's to make myself harder to find. Not quite the same as being married, but it feels like a connection I want to preserve.

"So, where are we going tonight?" I ask as I stretch my arms above my head and shrug off my jacket. It's one of those late spring days where it's too warm to be dressed heavily but it can get too cold at a moment's notice.

"I found this little Italian place I like the look of," he replies. "I was going to drop you off at home and pick you up in a couple of hours."

"Work?"

"Work."

The work that he's been doing this last year or so, finally focusing on his parents' legacy and business, has been full-on. Though he's been trying to take a step back from the criminal side of things, he's been making investments all over the place, doing everything he can to make sure that he keeps the money coming in. He's never so much as said it out loud, but I know he feels responsible for his sister and me. We're both quite capable of taking care of ourselves, but given the position he holds withboth of us, he views himself as solely responsible for our well-being.

"What time are you coming back to pick me up?" I ask, shifting the subject slightly. "I have a couple of calls I could make, if you're going to be a while."

"You take all the time you need," he replies. "I want your attention all on me when we go out."

"Oh, yeah? What have you got planned, exactly?"

He flashes me a devilish smile, and I feel a flutter in the base of my belly. "Worth waiting for, I'll tell you that."

We arrive at the house not long afterward. Valentina has long-since moved out into a place of her own, muttering something about the love nest we've made of the place, and it feels so cozy and lovely to me. He once spun me a story about running off somewhere we could start over, picking a place and making it our own, and this is the closest thing I can imagine to that story coming to life.

"Have a drink, I'll be back at 8," he tells me as he leans over to plant a kiss on my lips. I pull him a little closer, not quite ready to let him go yet.

"You sure you don't want to sneak inside for quickie? Go into that work meeting with a clear head?"

He groans. "Tempting as that is," he replies, "I have things to take care of. And don't worry, it'll be all the better for waiting."

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