Violent Triumphs (White Monarch 3)

“Shh,” he said, brushing his mouth over my cheek, which was wet with silent tears I hadn’t realized I’d shed.

I pulled back to look into his eyes. The pain in them, the sheer relief, hurt me. Diego had broken both of our hearts, and too many times, Cristiano and I had hurt each other. It was enough. My voice faltered as my tears fell faster. “I—I need you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

In a moment, I was in his arms as he carried me back to the room, laid me on the bed, and removed my sneakers and socks.

I grabbed his hand as he stood. “Don’t go.”

He leaned forward and cleared hair from my cheek. “I meant what I said. I’m not leaving your side.”

He climbed over me, slipped beneath the covers, and hugged me to his chest. The past hour, the only thing I’d been able to control were my sobs. Knowing Cristiano had me, I released them, breaking down into my pillow as he whispered soothingly into my ear, his hold around me never loosening.

“I let her down,” I said through my cries. “I chose the enemy.”

“Shh,” he said, nuzzling my ear. “Take comfort in the fact that Bianca loved you more than anything in the world. And that now we’ll all get the closure we deserve.”

Closure. This was what Cristiano had risked his life for. To give me answers, knowing they’d hurt me, when nobody else would.

The boy who’d played with my heart was no match for the man who, I was fairly certain, had loved me for a while.

Tears soaked my pillow, but not all of them came from pain as a thought formed. An utter and painstaking betrayal had given me the greatest gift I hadn’t even known possible—the permission to fall in love with my husband.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He squeezed me to him. To anyone else, he was a boss, a leader, a killer. To me, he was just Cristiano. Up until very recently, I hadn’t let him be that.

My puffy eyes ached. I closed them, suddenly exhausted. He’d known better than I had what I’d wanted and what I’d needed. Finally, they were the same thing. For years, I’d tried to escape the truth, but I was beginning to see . . .

This was my destiny.

I belonged by Cristiano’s side.

He was the man I wanted, and now I knew—he was the one I needed.

14

Natalia

The emotional wreckage of the day before felt physical. It was all around me—and Cristiano and I were a unit in the middle of it. Sometime in the night, I’d shed my clothing and fallen asleep naked in his arms. His body curled around mine so tightly that we were practically one. His muscular legs trapped my thighs, intertwined with my calves. His arms secured my back to his chest, and our linked fingers unbreakable.

Dawn had broken on a new day, and the room around me wasn’t the same.

The blues were richer, whites brighter, and the golds glimmered as if they’d just been polished. A breeze fluttered the curtains and cooled my exposed skin as Cristiano’s body heated the rest of me.

Cristiano was not the same.

He’d suffered for me and because of me. He would never be innocent, but he wasn’t guilty of the one crime that had kept me from trusting him. From falling into him.

Everything had changed.

There were consequences to be dealt, concessions to be made, and wrongs to right—starting here in a bed I had come to know as my own.

I knew what lay ahead. I knew what I had to do.

I wasn’t the same.

My decisions were made before I’d even opened my eyes.

I’d fallen asleep in Cristiano’s cocoon and had awoken transformed.

“You’re up,” Cristiano said.

I would’ve never thought the sound and feel of his voice against my ear could bring such a complete sense of calm and safety. “Stay,” I said. “I couldn’t say it before, on the phone, but I’m saying it now. Don’t leave me. And . . .”

“And what?”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I do.”

That was true, but I’d never expected to hear an apology from his mouth. I shifted under the sheets, and he loosened his grip on me so I could turn and face him. The near-black of his eyes didn’t fool me anymore. I saw depth where I’d once seen bleakness. Love where I’d assumed there was hate. And a strength that had always been there. “Why?”

His arms pulled me so close, we barely had to whisper. “I shouldn’t have gloated the way I did after I kissed you on our wedding day. I let Diego get to me.”

Of all the things he had to be sorry for, that had never even crossed my mind. “You paid the price for it,” I reminded him.