Page 164 of Legacy
“Last night was… a lot.”
Her voice is barely a whisper, but I hear every word, every shaky breath.
Then, after a breath:
“But I was the one who said yes to starting over.”
Her gaze lifts, steadier now. Fire and steel under all that softness.
“So that’s what we should do. Today.”
She nods once, sure and steady.
Then she extends her hand.
“Adriana Scarlet Castillo.”
A flicker of something playful passes through her eyes, but her voice stays level.
Scarlet.
Fucking perfect.
A low chuckle escapes me, but my chest tightens, pulling painfully.
That name. That girl.
My storm in lipstick.
I take her hand, holding it like I’m claiming it.
“Angelo Marcello Amato.”
Her grip is firm, stubborn as ever.
We hold it a beat too long. Long enough for the air to hum with the things we aren’t saying.
Then I motion toward the living room.
“Shall we?”
She grabs her coffee, following me, bare feet padding softly against the hardwood. I drop onto the couch, spreading my legs, watching her.
She hesitates, just for a breath, before lowering herself beside me.
Different couch.
Same girl.
For a split second, it feels like five years ago.
Before the lies. Before the war.
Back when she wore red and kissed me like she already fucking belonged to me.
All I want to do is pull her in, bury my hand in that hair, tilt her head back, and remind her exactly who she said yes to.
Hold her the way I did when the world felt safer with her pressed against me.
