Page 110 of Tormented Oath

His laugh rumbles through his chest, vibrating against me. "I have something for you," he says, suddenly serious. "A wedding gift."

Alessia slips away discreetly as Stefano guides me to a quiet corner of the veranda. Gianni has been passed to Angela, who's showing him the twinkling lights strung across the palm trees with all the enthusiasm of a devoted aunt.

"A gift?" I ask, surprised. "Stefano, this whole wedding—the island, the villa—it's already too much."

"Nothing is too much for you." He pulls out his phone, tapping the screen a few times before passing it to me. "For us."

I look down at the image displayed, uncomprehending at first. A sprawling ranch house with a wraparound porch. Rolling hills stretching to distant mountains. A barn and acres of open land.

Montana.

"Is this..." My voice fails me as understanding dawns.

"Yours," he says simply. "Ours. If you want it."

My hands tremble as I scroll through more photos. The interior of the house is rustic yet modern. A nursery is already set up with a crib and rocking chair. There are views of mountains and meadows and endless sky.

"You remembered?" I whisper, thinking of the handful of times I’d mentioned my dream of Montana all those months ago.

"I remember everything you've ever told me, Ava." His voice is low, intense. "Every dream. Every hope. Every fear."

Tears blur the images as I continue to scroll. This is it—exactly the life I'd described. The fantasy I never thought possible. The escape I've been chasing for years.

"Can we..." I swallow hard, afraid to hope. "Can we actually live there? Full-time? What about the family business? Chicago?"

Stefano takes the phone gently from my shaking hands, setting it aside to cup my face. "Tomasso's been handling most of the legitimate operations for months. The rest..." He shrugs, as if the empire he's built means nothing. "I'm ready to walk away. To be the man you and Gianni deserve, not the monster Chicago created."

I can't speak, can't find words adequate to describe the emotion overwhelming me. This man—this fierce, possessive, impossible man—is offering to give up everything he's built. For me. For our son. For the chance at a normal life together.

"Say something," he murmurs, a hint of vulnerability in his expression.

"Yes," I manage through my tears. "Yes to Montana. Yes to our ranch. Yes to everything with you."

The smile that breaks across his face is like sunrise—brilliant and transformative. He pulls me into his arms, lifting me off my feet in a kiss that tastes like promise, like future, like dreams I never dared believe could come true.

Our family cheers in the background, but I barely hear them. In this moment, there's only Stefano and me and the life we're choosing together. A life beyond violence and fear. A life where our son can grow up free from the shadows that haunted both our childhoods.

As Stefano sets me back on my feet, his hands linger at my waist, reluctant to let go even for a moment. "I have one condition," he says, his voice pitched low for my ears only.

"What's that?" I ask, breathless from his kiss and the future unfurling before us.

"Our bedroom needs to have a very large, very comfortable bed." His eyes darken with intent that sends heat spiraling through me. "For all the making up we still have to do."

I laugh, leaning into him, into the safety and heat and promise of his embrace. "I think that can be arranged, Mr. Rega."

"Good." His lips brush my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "Because I plan to thoroughly enjoy my wedding night with my real wife."

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of celebration. There are toasts and cake and dancing under the stars. Gianni being passed from one embrace to another, soaking up the love of his unconventional extended family. Promises for visits and plans for the future.

Eventually, our guests begin to disperse. Tomasso takes charge of getting a sleepy Angela back to her villa. Tony heads out with assurances that he'll be fine and we should enjoy our night. Alessia retires with Gianni, insisting that new parents deserve at least one night to themselves.

And then we're alone—really alone—for the first time since saying our vows.

Stefano's eyes find mine across the now-empty veranda, dark with intent that makes my heart race and my body warm in anticipation.

"So, Mrs. Rega," he says, stalking toward me with predatory grace. "Ready to begin our honeymoon?"

The moment Stefano’s hands land on my waist, I feel the heat of his touch sear through the thin fabric of my wedding dress. His fingers tighten, pulling me closer until there’s no space between us, just the electric hum of anticipation. His breath is warm against my ear as he murmurs, “You’ve been driving me insane all day, Ava.”

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