Page 111 of The Mafia King's Reign
"I know. I'll earn it back." Not a question. A statement of fact.
"I love you, woman," I say, low and intense. "More than I've ever loved anyone. More than I thought I was capable of. You're it for me, Valentina. The only one. Get used to it."
She leans into my touch, and I see the surrender in her eyes even as she tries to hold onto her anger.
"We're going to have to set some ground rules," she says. "Real ones. About honesty, about boundaries, about what happens when you fuck up again."
"When, not if?"
"I'm a realist."
I almost smile. "What kind of rules?"
"Complete transparency. If someone from your past shows up, I want to know immediately. If there's a threat to my safety, don't hide it from me. If you're making decisions that affect both of us, we talk about them first."
I consider this. It goes against every instinct I have to protect her from the uglier parts of my world. But she's asking for respect, not protection.
"I can do transparency on threats," I say carefully. "But some things in my world you're better off not knowing. Business things. Dark things."
"Salvatore—"
"No." I cut her off gently but firmly. "I won't lie to you. But I won't drown you in blood either. If it's business that keeps you safe, you trust me to handle it. That's the compromise."
She studies me for a long moment, then nods slowly. "Okay. But no more women in this house who you've slept with. That's non-negotiable."
"Already done." I slide my hand into her hair, gripping gently at the base of her skull. "From now on, the only woman in my bed is you. The only woman who can claim me is you. The only woman period is you. Clear?"
"Promise?"
"I don't make promises I can't keep. It's done, Valentina."
Then we sit there, and we talk. Hours pass without either of us noticing. No rush, no agenda, just conversation that flows like we've been doing this for years instead of weeks. I keep her hand in mine, thumb tracing lazy circles on her palm. She doesn't pull away.
Rosa sends out a tray of sandwiches, wine, and cloth napkins. Later, she sends dessert.
Valentina's eyes light up when she sees it, ice cream already melting into warm chocolate. She dives in immediately, closing her eyes on the first bite like it's a religious experience.
"Aren't you going to have any of this brownie à la mode?" she asks, holding up a spoonful.
"No. I don't do dessert."
"What do you mean you don't do dessert? Everyone does dessert." She waves the spoon at me. "You should try it."
"I'm not everyone."
"Salvatore." She scoots closer, spoon still extended. "Here, take a bite."
"No."
"Come on, please. Open up." Her voice goes playful, teasing. I watch her with dark amusement, letting her think she's getting somewhere.
"Valentina—"
Then she brings her face close to mine, lips almost touching like she's about to kiss me. I lean in, anticipating it, and she shoves the spoon in my mouth instead.
The taste of chocolate and vanilla hits my tongue, but all I can focus on is the triumphant gleam in her eyes.
"You're going to pay for that," I growl, setting the spoon aside.
