“The way you looked at me in that cemetery. The way you’re touching my hand right now.”
“You think I spent three years raising your son just to manipulate you into this?”
“I think everyone who’s ever gotten close to me has had a reason.”
Sienna stood. “My reason was Milo.”
“And now?”
She looked down at him. “Now I think you’re so afraid of being betrayed again that you’d rather accuse me than admit it would actually hurt you if I walked out that door.”
Dante’s face gave nothing away. Sienna turned toward the exit.
“Sienna.”
She stopped without turning around.
“I do care.”
The admission came out quiet — and it was also the most exposed thing she’d ever heard him say. She faced him again. Dante stood, ignoring the guard’s sharp warning through the glass.
“I care enough to know you deserve a man who doesn’t come with locked doors, court dates, and enemies who don’t forget.”
“I decide what I deserve.”
“You deserve peace.”
“Then stop shoving it away from yourself.”
She crossed the room to stand in front of him. “You never got a choice about losing Elena. You never got a choice about missing Milo’s first three years. But you have one now.”
“What choice?”
“Keep living as the man Salvatore convinced you that you were — or become the man your son already believes you to be.”
Dante’s gaze dropped to her mouth, then lifted back to her eyes. Slowly, he raised one hand, giving her every chance to step back.
She didn’t.
His fingers brushed her cheek — nothing forceful in it, nothing owed.
“Sienna.”
“Yes?”
“I haven’t kissed anyone since my wife.”
“I know.”
“I might not remember how to do this without feeling like I’m betraying her.”
“Then don’t kiss me trying to replace her.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why are you kissing me?”
“Because the night I thought my life had ended, you walked into a room terrified out of your mind and still chose to tell me the truth.”
Her eyes filled. “You had your men drag me into a car.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“You were terrifying while you did it.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
She smiled — the first real one since walking into the room. Dante closed the distance and kissed her, brief and careful, restraint outweighing everything else in it. When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers.
“I won’t ask you to wait.”
“And I won’t promise to.”