Page 53 of Her Overprotective Fiance

"Well done,dolcezza."

"Don't make me feel worse."

His lips twitch, and I feel even gloomier.

"Can we just please change the subject, like...what did you mean about Massimo going underground?"

"Nonnaand I have defensive mechanisms installed throughout the city in the past several years. We've also built a network of tunnels that covers the whole of New England. All we need to do is lure our enemies into our territory or that of our allies, and the battle's already won."

Giancarlo cups my face. "I'm sorry I wasn't with you earlier."

I shake my head. "I was scared, but I wasn't...terrified. I don't know how to explain it. I think...it's because I feel I've already faced the worst, and survived it, all other kinds of evil only seem...familiar."

"I understand."

I look at him searchingly. "Wereyouafraid?"

"Sì."

Giancarlo's lips twist in a humorless smile at my shock. "How can I not be? I do not have youth as an excuse now. And so if I fail to protect everyone again the way I failed to help..."

He shrugs as he says this, but it doesn't fool me at all. I know Giancarlo still considers himself partly to blame for what happened to his father and grandfather and that no amount of words will convince him otherwise.

But I also know that today is different because he has me...and him.

And that's when I hear myself repeat even more fiercely, "It will be all okay. You don't have to worry. God won't let you fail."

Giancarlo stares at me like I've just grown myself a halo when he's used to seeing me with a pair of horns and a cute little tail, and I can't blame him at all. I'm even tempted to tell him I need to see a psychiatrist...until he suddenly hauls me back into his arms, and I feel how hard his heart is pounding against my cheek.

"I need you."

That's what hesays, and that's what Ihear.

But we both know what he reallymeansis...

I love you.

And I want so, so much to say it back but all I can do for now is that thing which I've never told others about.

Please.

I find myself praying even though it shames me to do so. It feels like I only come to him when I'm desperate—-

Please, please, please help me say it.

—-like now.

Please.

I fall asleep praying, and when I wake up, his answer is obvious.

Because my heart now feels like it's about to burst, and I'm just so, so ready to say the words.

But I can't.

Because the other half of the bed is empty.

Where are you when I needed you the most?

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