Page 103 of Dangerous Vows

We sit across from each other, the fragrant food steaming between us. His face softens as he sips the wine, and we eat in silence for a few minutes, with only the music softly playing in the background.

Finally, I speak.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Pietro’s fork stills. “But you did.”

I nod. “I know. I should’ve told you about my father. About who I really am.”

“Why didn’t you?”

I meet his eyes. “Because I was scared of losing you. I didn’t know about the feud, but I know our families weren’t linked. Besides, I saw the Petrovics as the enemy.”

He leans back in his chair, the shadows under his eyes deepened by exhaustion and disappointment. “You are Moretti blood, Amara. That doesn’t just disappear.”

“I didn’t choose that name,” I say quietly. “But I’m choosingthis. You. Our child. And I hate to say it, but I would even tolerate the mafia life for you. Don’t you see it’s not just about my father but the life? I rebelled against it my entire life. And when my uncle, Vincenzu, died,it tossed me into the thick of it. I wasn’t prepared to be on the stage and auctioned off.”

His jaw flexes, but he doesn’t argue. His eyes soften, and he watches me like I might vanish.

“You said you’d protect me,” I whisper. “But I don’t want just protection. I wantyou. All of you. Even the parts you think are too dark.”

“You betrayed me,” he says, his voice a low growl. “You made me feel like I didn’t know the woman I…” His voice trails off.

“The woman you… What?” I press, breath catching. I’m not giving up on him. He needs to answer.

He closes his eyes like it hurts to say it. “Nothing.”

My heart nearly cracks in half.Nothing?

I quickly recover from the shock of his admission and walk to him, reaching for his hands. “I want to get back to where we were.”

He looks at me, torn between pride and need, and finally, he closes the distance between us and pulls me into his arms.

His mouth crashes onto mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak.

I kiss him back with everything I have.

Not as a Moretti. Not as a Borrelli enemy.

Buthis.

HisAmara.

But as quickly as the kiss started, it ended. It was a kiss, hotter than the fires of hell. Then, nothing. He’s cold and distant. And we ate dinner in an insufferable silence.

PIETRO

I WAS MADE FOR WAR, NOT HER

Iknow Amara will be up soon, so I brew coffee and take her a cup. She hears me walk into the bedroom and sits, taking the coffee cup from me. Our fingers brush, and it reminds me of the night we met. And for a minute, I remember all too well how we were before things became complicated.

I guess I’m going soft because I hate to leave her. Damn this war.

My defenses are slipping. Every day, my resolve to distance myself from her weakens.

All I want to do is pull Amara into my arms and tell her she’s mine. I long to tell her I love her and that she’s safe. That shewillbe safe forever. I can’t make a promise I don’t know I can keep.

Not while Miloš still breathes. He’s like a bad habit. He’s relentless. But I can’t stop fighting, not while her father sits in his glass palace pretending he doesn’t have blood on his hands.

---