Page 162 of King Of Order

Neither was Damian, slapped with similar indictments.

With Rio’s help, I planned to sell the various Tirone concerns, cutting them up piece by piece.

The capital I earned from selling my father’s mansion would pay off all the debts and end the illegal criminality that plagued my family for years.

It was over. I was free.

I got Lucia a new start, too.

She’d been caught in the middle of it all, but she was innocent. I helped her land a job with Rio’s art collector friend, whose canvas we’d borrowed.

Lucia would be his assistant, and she would have a much better life than the one she’d had living in the shadow of the Tirone name.

All that was left in the aftermath was Rio and myself.

Clear of the chaos, deceit, and danger surrounding us for so long, we planned to move to Australia, where the sun was brighter, and the future felt wide open.

I had no clue what lay ahead for us, but I knew this:L’amore è un viaggio non una destinazione. Our love was a journey, not a destination. Wherever he was, my heart would be also.

On our last morning in Naples, we sat on the veranda of Villa Tesoro, the warm breeze from the ocean stirring the edges of my mane.

I turned my head to study him.

He wore jeans and a fitted tee that hugged his lean, muscled torso.

His arms, rippling with strength, were bare, marked by the faintest hints of veins under bronzed skin, as if sculpted just for me.

His face was a fierce blend of potency and quiet intensity, which always struck me as beautiful and brutal all at once.

Dark, inky hair swept over his broad brow, framing a face cut with sharp, aquiline features and a jawline just visible beneath the neat trim of his beard.

His eyes were pale aqua and virtually surreal.

They always gave me a lurching sensation, a deep longing that made me ache. I wanted to fall into those eyes, to drown in their impossible shade, lined by lashes so black and thick that they seemed almost unreal.

When he met my gaze, a slow smirk tugged at his lips, and the space between us grew dense and charged.

He took a drag of his cheroot, exhaling smoke that curled toward the ceiling, never breaking eye contact, marking me, taking in my every inch.

His attention lingered, with a possessiveness in his stare, an awareness that prickled my skin and left me breathless.

The scent of the cigarillo mingled with his cologne reached me.

The rich blend of citrus and musk flooded my senses, setting each nerve in me alight, my heart pounding faster as he spoke.

Deep and edged with teasing, his voice hit me like a caress.

‘Seen enough, Chiara?’

The smirk on his face deepened, daring me to answer, to tell him how my love for him was fierce, burning, and forever true.

‘Never. I’ll never see or have enough of you.’

Rio took my hand. ‘Sei tutto per me, Chiara,’ he rasped, his thumb brushing my knuckles.

I smiled, squeezing his hand. ‘You’re everything to me too. I never thought I’d find this kind of love, ever.’

He gazed out over the water, his expression thoughtful. ‘This is our chance now. To build the life we want. Just us.’

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