Page 158 of The Temptation
I don’t doubt that for a second. Dante’s father seriously underestimated his son when he was alive. He’s got a sharp eye for business. He’s expanded way beyond Italy. We’re global now. We have deals with the Colombians and Chinese, among others.
I lean down and place a chaste kiss on her lips. “How wet?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
“So wet you’re probably going to have to pull over on the side of the highway somewhere and take care of me.”
A grin spreads across my face because damn if this woman isn’t a dream come true. “I think that can be arranged.”
I thought I knew love before her, but that kind of emotion always came tangled with guilt, obligations, and strings I didn’t ask for. It felt like something I owed, not something I chose.
With Lucia, it’s different. There’s no second-guessing or waiting for the shoe to drop. It’s not one-sided or something that comes with hidden costs. There’s no catch, just her and the version of myself that exists when we’re together.
“I love you,” I say, and it scares me how much I mean it.
How easy it is.
How much I need her to believe it.
How effortlessly I can be real and vulnerable when I’m with her.
“I know,” she replies, and there isn’t a day I’m not grateful for that. “Now, go get in your new car so I can see if the image I’ve built in my mind lives up to the real thing.”
When she pushes the fob into my hand, I move through the front gate and approach the car. It’s stunning. Sleek, powerful, flawless. But it’s a lot. Even though I could easily afford a whole garage full of these myself, old habits die hard. Growing up with nothing teaches you to think twice, even when you have everything.
“Go on,” she encourages.
I click the button on the key as I move around to the driver’s side.
The moment I open the door and slide behind the wheel, I’m hit with the sharp scent of new leather, cleanand rich. The interior is all sleek black curves and polished carbon fibre.
I glance through the windscreen when Lucia steps forward, takes the ridiculous red bow off the bonnet, and tosses it aside.
She retreats a step, eyeing me sitting behind the wheel. I can’t hear it with the windows up, but when her hand rests lightly on her chest and she exhales, I know it’s a sigh. One of those soft, quiet ones that says more than words ever could.
My eyes don’t leave hers as I reach for the ignition and start the car. It purrs to life, low and smooth at first, but when I press my foot on the accelerator, revving the engine, it growls, deep and guttural, the sound ripping through the quiet neighbourhood like a warning. This isn’t just a car, it’s a beast with a heartbeat, and I’m dying to get it out on the open road.
There’s a soft, sweet look on Lucia’s face when she climbs into the passenger seat.
“Did it live up to your expectations?” I ask.
“And some,” she replies, all breathy. “I’m pretty sure I just had a mini-O.”
The cemetery is quiet, tucked into the hillside, where the grass grows too long between the graves, and the sun beats down with no shade to soften its intensity.
Lucia walks beside me in silence, our steps slow. She doesn’t rush me. I’ve removed the small urn from the box, and it now feels heavy in my hand, not in weight, but by what I’m about to do.
On the drive here, I asked Lucia if she thought I was doing the right thing. She told me I was, without hesitation.
My grandparents told her that my dad loved my mum. She was the first girl he ever brought home to meet them, and they were sure that if the accident hadn’t happened, they probably would have gotten married one day.
Hearing that made me feel like I was finally putting together pieces of a life I never got to live but always carried inside me. But it also hurt. All those what ifs ...
What if they’d gotten the chance?
What if things were different?
How would our lives have turned out if the accident had never happened?
Perhaps this is as close as I’ll come to making things right. Giving them the ending they never had. And maybe, just maybe, it’s the start of something new for me too.
