Page 97 of Broken Crown

"Whatever you're thinking. I can practically hear the gears turning in your head."

I turned to look at him, studying his profile in the dimness. "You can't expect me not to think about what's waiting for us."

"I expect you to live in this moment. With me."

The simplicity of the request caught me off guard.

This moment.

Just us, in this car, with the storm raging outside.

He lifted our joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to my knuckles, the gesture unexpectedly tender. "Whatever comes, we face it together."

Together.

The word echoed in my mind, dangerous and seductive.

He made it sound so simple, so inevitable.

Us against the world.

And in that moment, as we drove through the tempest toward the Eternal City, I almost believed him.

Almost believed that what had started as manipulation and revenge could transform into something real.

Something lasting.

Almost.

But when the first buildings of Rome's outskirts appeared in the distance, solid and tangible through the rain, reality reasserted itself.

I thought of my father, of Sebastian's cryptic calls and meetings, of all the secrets still between us.

Sebastian might claim to love me, but love without trust was just another form of possession.

And I was tired of being owned.

Lightning split the sky. In its glint I caught Sebastian's fierce expression.

The sight chilled me more than the storm ever could.

Because Sebastian Diamanti feared nothing and no one.

Except, perhaps, losing me.

The thought both thrilled and terrified me as we drove further toward the city, the road slick with rain.

By the time we reached the outskirts of Rome, the storm had begun to abate, as if the Eternal City itself had subdued nature's fury. The imposing domes and spires emerged from the darkness, illuminated by lightning that grew more distant.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, both watching the city's lights begin to glitter through the rain-streaked windows as we crossed the invisible boundary into Rome proper. The majestic silhouette of St. Peter's dome rose in the distance, eternal and unmoved by the temporary violence of the storm.

Sebastian's hand still held mine, his thumb drawing idle patterns on my skin.

"Sabrina," he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

His phone vibrated again, somehow more insistent this time.

The harsh blue glow of the screen illuminated his features, casting shadows that hardened the lines of his face. Whatever appeared there wiped away any trace of the man who had held me through the night, who had whispered words of love over breakfast.