Page 98 of Savage Union
As we pull away from the curb, I find myself watching Vito's profile against the backdrop of passing city lights. The strong line of his jaw, the precise cut of his hair, the hints of weariness only visible in the shadows around his eyes—details I've come to notice, to catalog almost unconsciously.
"You're staring," he observes without looking at me.
"Just thinking."
"About?"
"How appearances can be deceiving." I lean back against the leather seat. "All those people watching us tonight, thinking they know exactly what they're seeing."
Now he does turn to look at me, curiosity evident in his expression. "And what do you think they saw?"
"Power. Wealth. A match made in mafia heaven." I shrug slightly. "The perfect couple."
"Aren't we?" There's a hint of challenge in his voice.
"We're many things, Vito. Perfect isn't one of them."
He reaches over, taking my hand. The casual intimacy of the gesture startles me, but I don't pull away. "Perhaps not. But we're becoming... something."
I can't argue with that. Whatever this is between us—Stockholm syndrome, genuine connection, or some complex mixture of both—it's undeniably evolving into something neither of us anticipated.
"Yes," I agree softly. "Something."
He studies our joined hands for a moment. "I meant what I said about arranging a visit with your family."
"I know." And strangely, I do know. Whatever else Vito may be, his word seems to be reliable once given.
"Tomorrow, perhaps." He glances out the window as we approach the penthouse. "I'll need to make security arrangements."
"Tomorrow would be..." I hesitate, not wanting to appear too eager. "Nice."
The car pulls into the private garage beneath the penthouse building. Vito releases my hand as Dante opens the door, but the ghost of his touch lingers on my skin.
As we ride the elevator up to the penthouse, standing close enough that our shoulders occasionally brush, I find myself wondering how we've arrived at this strange détente. How the man I viewed as my captor, my enemy, has become someone whose touch I crave, whose approval matters more than it should.
The elevator doors open directly into the penthouse foyer. Vito steps aside, allowing me to exit first.
"It's been a long day," he says, watching me with that intensity that never seems to dim. "You should rest."
I nod, suddenly aware of the fatigue pulling at my limbs. "Yes."
But I make no move toward the bedroom. Instead, I find myself standing before him, caught in the gravity of his presence.
"Vito?" My voice is softer than intended.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For considering what I said about my family."
His expression softens fractionally. "Family is important to me too, Caterina. Never doubt that."
Something about the sincerity in his voice makes my chest tighten. Without overthinking it, I step forward and rise on my toes, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek.
"Goodnight," I whisper, stepping back before he can respond.
I turn and walk toward the bedroom, feeling his eyes on me the entire way. At the doorway, I glance back to find him still watching me, his expression a mixture of hunger and something softer, more vulnerable.
For a moment, I consider asking him to join me, to continue what began in the fitting room. But the day has been overwhelming enough, filled with revelations and shifting dynamics I'm still struggling to understand.
