Page 156 of Twisted Vows

The response earns me a faint smile. That’s something. Maybe her forgiveness begins like that…small, reluctant, human. She already knows I didn’t kill her late husband. I’m talking about forgiveness for falling in love with her daughter, for changing the course of their lives.

I arranged everything for her with precision. And she seems comfortable here.

Just as we start to leave after our brief visit, Elena rises, meets me, and touches my wrist. “Keep her safe,” she says. No blessing, just a contract disguised as hope.

Sophia exhales as we walk toward the car. “She didn’t throw anything. That’s progress.”

“She trusts you,” I say. “She’ll learn to tolerate me.”

“Maybe even like you,” she teases.

“Let’s not aim too high.”

Back at the villa, we stroll through the gardens. Gravel crunches underfoot. Roses, their petals pale as ghosts between the leaves. At first, the silence of two people relearning each other’s rhythm stretches awkwardly. Then her hand brushes mine, and she laces our fingers together. She winks, making me chortle. I hold her hand properly and bring it to my lips. Every person in the room pretends not to notice, but I feel the warmth of her skin and the weight of the room’s attention anyway.

“You’re being watched.” I catch her gaze.

“I know. So are you.”

Her courage cuts through the noise in my head, and I curl my fingers around hers. Not a possession but a promise.

Later, Izzy finds me on the terrace. Sunlight paints her hair a bright and alive shade of red. She doesn’t smile. “Congratulations, Don Ricci.”

“It’s Benedetti now,” I correct.

“Not yet,” she says, half in challenge, half in warning. “Not until they believe you belong here.”

She drifts closer. “I can keep the family steady, Enzo. But I need to know where your loyalty lies.”

“Starts with Sophia.”

Her jaw tightens. Then, after a heartbeat, she releases a low, bitter laugh. “Of course it does.”

“I don’t trade love for power,” I add.

Izzy tilts her head, her eyes oddly gentle. “Then maybe there’s hope for us all.” She leaves before I can respond.

The day folds into business. I issue orders. Clear paperwork. Push forward legit fronts. Marco and Billy handle digital cleanup, their banter echoing through the halls like gunfire swallowed by laughter.

Marco cracks a grin as I pass. “So, Boss, you’re turning us into businessmen now?”

“Try not to sound too disappointed.”

Gio chuckles. “Guess I’ll have to buy a tie.”

“Don’t,” I tell him. “The world’s not ready for that horror.”

As they cackle, a knot inside me loosens. These men, my family—by blood or by choice—have followed me through hell. Now it’s my duty to lead them into something quieter, which might be even harder.

By evening, the smaller villa feels different. Lived in. A coffee jar on the counter. Fresh linens. The faint trace of Sophia’s perfume in the air. The place smells like safety, fragile but real.

Dinner transitions to touch. Not the frantic need of the night before, but a slower rhythm. Relearning. Rediscovering. Her breath warms my throat, her fingers tracing old scars like they’re maps she wants to memorize. Each caress is patient and reverent, the hunger restrained.

“You’re softer now,” she whispers.

“Don’t spread that rumor.”

She laughs…free, unguarded. I want to hear it again.