Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
I ease away from her carefully, not wanting to wake her. She makes a small sound of protest, reaching for me even in sleep, but settles again as I tuck the covers around her.
Standing beside the bed, I watch her for a moment longer. This woman I've married, this stranger who's somehow become something more. Something I'm not ready to name.
What have I gotten myself into?
I leave her to sleep, moving quietly through the darkened house to my office. Work will focus me, as it always does. Security reports to review, intelligence to analyze, contingency plans to refine.
The computer screen glows in the darkness as I pull up the latest data. Surveillance remains constant at the perimeter, but no active threats yet. Valentina's people are still in assessment mode, weighing their options, calculating risk versus reward now that Kleah bears my name.
They'll make a move eventually. They have to. Valentina won't accept defeat, won't relinquish her claim on the Biancardi fortune without a fight.
Chapter Six
GABRIELE
THE HOUSE IS QUIET as I move through it, checking security systems out of habit. Everything remains secure, no alerts overnight. The danger still looms, but it hasn't found us. Not yet.
I pause outside my bedroom door, listening. Silence from within. Is she still asleep? Or awake, perhaps wondering where I went, why I left?
Before I can decide whether to check, my phone vibrates with an incoming call. Sammy, one of my most trusted men, currently managing security for Kleah's shop.
"Report," I answer, moving away from the bedroom door.
"Someone tried to access the back entrance last night," Sammy informs me. "Professional job, minimal damage to the lock. They retreated when they encountered the secondary systems."
"Description?"
"Male, medium build, dark clothing. The cameras only caught partial images."
"Valentina's people?"
"Most likely. The technique matches her usual contractors."
"Increase surveillance. If they return, do not engage. Monitor and report only."
"Understood."
"And the items I requested?"
"Collected as instructed. The box is secure in the secondary location."
"Good. I'll retrieve it personally."
I end the call, mind already mapping contingencies, adjusting timetables. Valentina is moving faster than I'd anticipated, already targeting Kleah's property. A warning, perhaps, or simple information gathering.
Either way, it accelerates our timeline.
"Good morning."
The soft voice behind me belongs to Kleah. I turn to find her standing in the hallway, wrapped in what appears to be my robe, her hair tousled from sleep, her eyes still soft with lingering dreams.
She's beautiful in a way that catches me off guard—unguarded, natural, with a quiet dignity even in this vulnerable state.
"Good morning," I reply, tucking my phone away. "Did you sleep well?"
A flush colors her cheeks, memories of last night evident in her expression. "Yes. Very well. But you were gone when I woke up."
There's no accusation in her voice, just quiet observation.
"I had work to do," I say simply. "I didn't want to disturb you."
She nods, accepting this. "Is everything okay? I heard you on the phone just now."
I consider how much to tell her, how much burden to place on shoulders already carrying so much. But we agreed on honesty, and I intend to keep that promise.
"Someone attempted to access your shop last night," I say. "They were deterred by the security systems."
Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't panic, doesn't crumble. Instead, she straightens, processing this information with remarkable composure.
"Valentina's people?"
"Most likely."
She absorbs this, her expression thoughtful rather than fearful. "What happens now?"
"Now we accelerate your training. And I retrieve some items I had my men collect from your shop."
"My tools?"
I nod, impressed by her intuition. "Yes. The specialized equipment you requested. And your personal items."
Relief softens her features. "Thank you. I've been missing my work."
The simple gratitude in her voice touches something in me, a place rarely reached by others. "You should be able to continue your craft, even here. Especially here."
"Even with people trying to kill me?" A touch of gallows humor colors her tone.
"Perhaps especially then." I step closer, drawn to her despite my better judgment. "Creation in the face of destruction. A powerful statement."
She looks up at me, something vulnerable and yet strong in her gaze. "About last night..."
Here it comes, I think. Regret. Reconsideration. A request to slow down or stop completely. I brace myself for it, ready to accept whatever boundaries she needs to establish.
"Thank you," she says instead, surprising me. "For making me feel safe. For showing me what it could be like—"
How the heck did I end up with the world's most appreciative wife? There's not a day she hasn't found a reason to thank me, and more than once, too.
"And..." Her tone turns shy. "I want you to know that I don't regret it. Any of it."
Heat courses through me at the words, and even though I know it's too early, and that I owe her to be patient and gentle—
I just can't help it. I'm pulling her close, and I allow myself to steal just one kiss from her soft lips.