Page 102 of Ruthless Royalty

We’ve spent hours training together, day in and day out. I’ve taught her hand-to-hand combat, how to handle knives, how to shoot with precision. She’s become a fucking force to be reckoned with, and it makes my heart swell to see her so determined, so fierce.

I wasn’t about to let my fiancée feel powerless ever again. I’ve seen what it’s like when she’s scared, when she feels like she can’t protect herself, and I never want to see that look in her eyes again.

There’s also this part of me that hates it—hates that she has to learn these things at all. As much as I don’t want her to feel powerless ever again, I also don’t want her to lose that softness that makes her who she is.

But that strength, that fire, it’s made her more … determined. She wants to push things, especially with us, with our intimacy. And fuck, I want her too—God knows how much I want her—but I’ve been trying to make her wait. Trying to protect her, even if it’s from herself.

“Gio,” she says, her voice cutting through my thoughts. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I glance at her, seeing the way she’s studying me, those sharp eyes not missing a damn thing.

“Nothing,” I lie, because I’m not ready to have this conversation again. “Just thinking about how much I hate this fucking place.”

She doesn’t buy it. “Liar,” she says flatly, turning in her seat to face me. “You’ve been weird since we got back. What’s really going on?”

I let out a sigh, knowing I can’t keep dodging this. “You’ve been pushing yourself hard, Chiara. I just don’t want you to overdo it.”

“Overdo it?” she echoes, huffing as she crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not a fucking damsel in distress. I don’t need you to save me—I need you to stand by my side and let me fight for myself.”

I run a hand through my hair, the frustration mounting. “I’m not saying you can’t fight for yourself. But I’m your fucking fiancé, Chiara. It’s my job to protect you, to make sure you’re safe. If that means being a little overprotective, then so fucking be it.”

Her eyes narrow, and I can see the frustration building. “You think I’m not ready? You think I’m still too messed up to know what I want? Don’t you trust my judgment?”

“That’s not what I said,” I reply quickly, trying to keep my voice calm. “You think I don’t trust you? I trust you with my fucking life, Chiara. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let my guard down, not for a second. Not when it comes to you.”

She’s silent for a moment, her gaze locked on mine, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. Then, she leans forward, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper.

“And what about when it comes to us? When it comes to … to being together?”

I feel my gut twist at her words, the frustration boiling over into something more dangerous. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She doesn’t back down, meeting my gaze head-on. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Gio. You’ve been holding back, and I’m tired of it. I want to be with you—completely. I want to be intimate; to have you touch me like you used to. But you keep pushing me away, like I’m some fragile thing that’s going to break if you touch me too hard.”

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. This is not how I wanted this conversation to go. “I do want to be close to you, you have no fucking idea how much I want that. But I’m trying to be smart about this. I’m trying to make sure we’re both ready.”

She clenches her fists, her voice rising in frustration. “I’m ready, Giovanni. I want this. I want you. And I hate that you keep treating me like I’m broken, like I’m some delicate flower that needs to be protected.”

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my own emotions in check. “You’re not broken, Chiara. But you are healing, and I’m not going to rush this, no matter how much you think you’re ready. I’m not going to let you do something you might regret later.”

She glares at me, her jaw set in that stubborn way that drives me fucking insane. “I won’t regret it, Gio. I know what I want, and I’m tired of waiting for you to catch up.”

I shake my head, feeling the frustration bubbling over. “This isn’t about me catching up, Chiara. This is about you needing time to heal. I’m not going to rush you into something just because you think you’re ready. I’m trying to protect you, dammit.”

She huffs, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest again. “I don’t need protection, Gio. I need you to see me as an equal. As someone who can handle this, who can handle us.”

“I do see you as an equal,” I say, my voice low and dangerous. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you make a decision that could fuck you up even more.”

She looks at me, her eyes blazing with anger and frustration. “And what if I’m already too fucked up? What if this is what I need to feel whole again? What if being with you—really being with you—is the only thing that’s going to make me feel like myself?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say. I hate that she feels this way, that she’s so desperate to prove she’s okay that she’s willing to push herself to the limit.

But I also know that she’s right, in a way. She’s not the same girl she was before, and maybe I’ve been holding on too tight, trying to protect her when what she really needs is to feel in control again.

“Chiara…” I start, my voice rough with emotion. “I love you. More than anything. And I want you—I want you so fucking much it hurts. But I’m not going to let you rush into something just because you feel like you need to prove something. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”

She softens slightly at my words, the anger in her eyes fading as she looks at me, really looks at me.

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” she says, her voice softer now. “I just … I want to feel close to you. I want to feel like we’re in this together, like we’re not just two people going through the motions.”

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