Andrea
I’ve loved Stefano Cammareri for as long as I can remember. Not the silly kind of crush you outgrow, but the kind that brands itself into your bones.
He’s my brother-in-law’s youngest brother. He’s dangerous, brooding, and so far out of reach it hurts. Every look, every stolen glance, only deepens the ache. But Stefano always pulls away, reminding me I should find someone safe. Someone normal.
So when a charming stranger makes me feel wanted, I take the risk … and walk straight into a trap.
Stefano
She thinks I don’t want her. I know I can’t give her what she deserves. But Andrea Rossi has owned me from the moment she first smiled at me, and I’ve been fighting that truth ever since.
When she’s taken by the cartel to strike at my family, every wall I’ve built shatters. I’ll spill blood, burn cities, and destroy anyone who stands between us. Because Andrea isn’t my weakness, she’s my reason.
Darkness is safer than love. Violence is cleaner than desire. And this time ... I won’t walk away.
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But when I dare lift my eyes, Stefano isn’t looking at me like I’m ruined. He’s looking at me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever touched.
“Stay still,” he says softly, brushing hair from my face. His thumb lingers at my cheek, tracing the swelling where Matías struck me. His jaw flexes, fury flashing in his eyes. “He put his hands on you.”
I swallow hard. “He wanted you to come for me.”
“And I did,” he growls. “And he’ll never touch you again.”
There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty. Just raw, burning promise. My chest tightens, tears threatening again, but this time they’re different. Softer. Safer.
Stefano disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water fills the room. When he returns, he carries a basin and a towel. He kneels in front of me, dipping the cloth into the water, wringing it out, then gently pressing it to my wrists.
The cool relief makes me hiss, but his touch is careful, reverent. He works slowly, cleaning the cuts, wiping away dried blood. Every stroke of the cloth feels like an unspoken apology, like a vow written in water and patience.
“You don’t have to…” My voice cracks.
“Yes, I do,” he interrupts, his eyes lifting to mine. “I should’ve stopped this before it started. I should’ve seen what you were walking into. You trusted the wrong man because I made you believe I’d never be the right one.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding. His words are raw, jagged, and carved from guilt. “Stefano…”
He shakes his head, continuing to clean my wrists. “This is on me. All of it.”
“No.” I reach out, laying my other hand over his. My voice trembles, but it’s steady enough. “He tricked me. He lied. That’s not on you.”
His jaw tightens, but his gaze softens. He cups my hand in his, squeezing gently, as if grounding himself in the contact.
When he finishes tending my wrists, he moves to my cheek. The cloth is cool against the swelling, and I close my eyes, leaning into his touch despite the sting. His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth, lingering, his breath uneven.
“Does it hurt?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I whisper, then open my eyes. “But not as much as it would’ve if you hadn’t come.”
Something flickers in his gaze—something fierce, something I’ve only seen in stolen glances before. He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching mine. His voice drops to a rasp. “I almost lost you.”
“You didn’t,” I breathe. “You found me.”
His chest rises sharply, his grip tightening on the towel. For a moment, I think he’ll kiss me. My lips part, anticipation thrumming through me despite the exhaustion dragging at my bones.
But he pulls back, running a hand over his face. “You need sleep. We’ll talk when you’ve rested.” He pulls the covers over me, making sure I am warm and comfortable.
Disappointment stabs sharp, but I nod. He’s right. My body feels like lead, my eyes heavy. I shift under the blanket, curling onto my side. But when Stefano moves to the chair near the window, I frown.
“Don’t leave me,” I whisper, panic bubbling. “Please.”
His head snaps toward me, his gaze burning. “I’ll never leave you.” He stands, crossing back to the bed, lowering himself onto the mattress beside me. “Not now. Not ever.”
Relief washes over me. I inch closer, my head finding his chest again. His arm wraps around me instantly, pulling me tight against him. His heart beats strong under my ear, steady and sure.
Within minutes, exhaustion drags me under. My last conscious thought is that I’m exactly where I belong.
In his arms.
****
I wake to warmth.
The room is quiet, the curtains drawn, soft morning light spilling through the edges. Stefano is still beside me, his arm heavy over my waist, his breath steady against my hair. For a moment, I don’t move. I just listen. Inhale. Memorize the feeling of safety.
When I shift slightly, his grip tightens. “Don’t,” he murmurs, still half-asleep. “Stay.”
My lips curve despite everything. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His eyes open, dark and unreadable. He studies me for a long moment, then brushes a thumb over my bruised cheek. “Good.”
We lie there in silence, the air thick with unspoken words. My body aches, but my heart feels lighter than it has in days. Because for once, there’s no distance between us. No walls. Just us, tangled in sheets and shadows.
Before I fall asleep again I know, with bone-deep certainty, that whatever comes next, we’re already changed. He’s not just my savior. He’s mine.
And I’m his.
