Chapter 16: The Confession
The ride back to the Moretti estate was a blur of flashing lights and the deafening roar of armored engines.
I sat in the back of the SUV, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket, shaking so violently my teeth rattled. Alessandro hadn't let go of me since the docks. He sat beside me, his arm anchored around my waist, his jaw set in a rigid line of barely controlled fury.
When we finally passed through the reinforced steel gates of the estate, the tension in the vehicle shifted. We were home. We were safe.
Alessandro bypassed the main entrance, ordering the driver to take us straight to the private garage of the master wing. He didn't wait for a security detail to open the door. He stepped out, reached into the backseat, and lifted me effortlessly into his arms.
"I can walk," I whispered, my voice hoarse.
"You're not walking," he replied, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
He carried me through the biometric doors, up the private elevator, and straight into my bedroom. The fire was roaring in the hearth. Emma was fast asleep in the adjoining room, completely oblivious to the fact that her mother had almost died on the edge of the Hudson River.
Alessandro set me down gently on the edge of the plush bed. He stripped off his tactical vest, tossing it onto a velvet chair with a heavy thud, before kneeling on the rug in front of me.
He took my freezing hands in his warm ones.
"Look at me, Clara," he commanded softly.
I lifted my gaze. The dangerous, terrifying billionaire who had commanded mercenaries an hour ago was gone. In his place was a man stripped down to his absolute core, his dark eyes brimming with an emotion that stole the breath from my lungs.
"I have spent my entire life building fortresses," Alessandro whispered, his thumbs tracing the back of my knuckles. "I built companies. I built walls. I made sure I was untouchable so I would never have to feel the kind of grief that destroyed my mother when my father died."
He leaned closer, his forehead resting gently against my knees.
"And then," he continued, his voice cracking, "a stubborn maid with a three-year-old daughter walked into my crossfire and tore down every single wall I had. You are my weakness, Clara. And tonight, I realized I would burn my entire empire to the ground before I ever let anyone hurt you again."
Tears spilled over my eyelashes, hot and fast.
I reached down, tangling my fingers in his thick, dark hair, pulling him up until our faces were inches apart.
"I love you," I breathed. The words tasted like salvation. "I think I’ve loved you since the day Emma handed you that cookie and you looked at her like she hung the moon."
A rough, desperate sound tore from Alessandro’s throat. He surged upward, pulling me off the edge of the bed and flush against his chest. His lips crashed onto mine, entirely different from the frantic kiss on the docks. This was deep. This was possessive. This was a man claiming his soulmate.
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The adrenaline of the night melted away, replaced by a searing, undeniable heat.
For the first time in three years, I wasn't fighting to survive. I was exactly where I belonged.
