Page 95 of Temptation and Tyranny

“Here’s where Nonna taught me to make pasta...This is where Nonno would read to me during thunderstorms...The mark on this door frame—that’s where they measured my height every summer...”

In the kitchen, she stopped abruptly, her hand going to a worn spot on the marble counter. “I used to sit here,” she said softly, “watching my grandmother bake bread. She’d let me knead the dough sometimes, even though my hands were too small to do it properly.”

Allegra turned to me then, her face a symphony of emotions—joy, disbelief, love, and something deeper, more profound. “Cooper, I can’t believe you did this. But...why?”

Taking both her hands in mine, I led her to the French doors that opened onto the terrace. The view was spectacular—rolling hills covered in vineyards, olive groves, and cypress trees, all bathed in the golden light of late morning. In the distance, Montepulciano rose from the hilltop, tying it all together like oil on canvas.

“Because I love you,” I said simply. “Because this place is part of who you are, and I want to be part of who you’ll become.” I took a deep breath, then dropped to one knee. Allegra’s eyes widened, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Allegra,” my voice was rough, stripped bare of any pretense. I ran a hand through my hair, fighting the urge to look away from the intensity in her gaze. “I’ve spent my whole life in the shadows, doing whatever the hell it took to survive. Then you...” I let out a shaky breath. “You saw right through every wall I put up. Every mask. Every bit of bullshit.”

My fingers trembled slightly as they traced her cheek. “You know what I am. The blood on my hands, the darkness I carry. And you still look at me like... like I’m worth something.” My voice cracked. “I can’t promise it’ll always be easy. But I can promise you this—every breath in my body, every beat of my heart, belongs to you.” I pulled out the ring box, my heart in my throat. “Marry me.”

I didn’t really ask. I wouldn’t take no for an answer, no matter what she said.

I opened the box, revealing the ring I’d had custom made in Florence—a vintage-style design featuring a cushion-cut diamond surrounded by smaller stones, set in rose gold. It reminded me of the antique jewelry she’d described her grandmother wearing in old photographs.

“Yes,” she breathed, then louder, through her tears, “Yes, Cooper. Of course I’ll marry you.”

My hands were shaking slightly as I slipped the ring onto her finger, but as soon as it was in place, Allegra pulled me to my feet and into a passionate kiss. I wrapped my arms around her, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around, our laughter echoing through the old house.

When we finally broke apart, both breathless and giddy, I rested my forehead against hers. “I have one more surprise,” I murmured.

“Cooper,” she laughed incredulously. “How could there possibly be more?”

“The house, the vineyard...it’s yours, Allegra. It’s in your name. But…I’d like to be a part of it. I want to live here with you, if that’s what you want.”

For a moment, she couldn’t speak, her hands clutching mine as she tried to process my words. The breeze carried the scent of rosemary and sun-warmed stone, the same scents that had filled her childhood summers. In the distance, a church bell tolled, its sound carrying across the valley just as it had for centuries.

“This is where you grew up,” I continued softly. “Where your roots are. It should never have left your family.” I cupped her face in my hands, wiping away her tears with my thumbs. “And I have plans, if you’re interested.”

“Plans?” she managed to ask, her voice thick with emotion.

I nodded, gesturing to the surrounding vineyards. “The vines are still healthy—they’ve been well-maintained. We could restart production, maybe even add that wellness center we talked about in Greece. A place for healing, for new beginnings.” I paused, considering how to tell her the rest. “I’ve already started transitioning my other businesses. The art galleries in Paris and London are completely legitimate now, and the import and export company only deals in legal goods. Steele’s been helping me clean everything up, making sure it’s all above board. No more weapons, no more dangerous games. Just wine, art, and helping people heal.” I looked into her eyes, seeing my future reflected there. “What do you think?”

Allegra’s smile was radiant as she threw her arms around my neck. “I think,” she said between kisses, “that I can’t wait to build a life here with you.”

As we stood there on the terrace of what was now our home, the Tuscan sun warming our skin, I felt a peace I’d never known before. Looking out over the vineyard, I could see our future stretching before us like the neat rows of vines. A place of our own, far from the darkness of my past. A business built on healing rather than harm. A life filled with love and purpose and the promise of new beginnings.

“I love you,” I murmured, pulling Allegra closer. “More than I ever thought possible.”

She turned in my arms, her engagement ring catching the sunlight. “I love you too, Cooper,” she whispered. “Always and forever.”

As we stood there, planning our future amidthe vines her grandparents had planted, I knew with absolute certainty that this was exactly where we were meant to be. Greece had been our healing place, but Tuscany—this was our home. This was where we would build our future, in the place where Allegra’s past held its deepest roots.

I had another surprise planned for Allegra that evening. After everything we’d been through—the shooting, Viktor, her father—this felt like the right moment. Time to show her that her faith in me had paid off.

When she came out to the villa’s terrace, she froze at the sight of the motorcycle waiting in the drive. A sleek black Ducati—not my old one from Paris, but the same model. I had it delivered this morning while she was at the market.

“Remember our first goal?” I asked, watching her face. “Back when you were just my physical therapist, and I told you what I missed most?”

She stepped closer to the bike, awe written across her features. “Your motorcycle. You said you wanted to ride again.”

“Thanks to you, I can.” I held out a helmet. “Want to see the sunset from the coast?”

For a moment, she hesitated, and I could see her therapist’s instincts warring with her heart. “Are you sure your leg—”

“Is strong enough,” I finished. “The time in Greece and your expertise made sure of that.”

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