Three days had passed since Dimitri's message.
Sara hadn't asked about Adrian's mother.
She wanted to. God, she wanted to. Every time she looked at him, the question burned on her tongue. But something held her back. Fear, maybe. Or the desperate need to hold onto this fragile peace a little longer.
Tonight, the mansion was quiet.
Tom was asleep. The guards were at their posts. Marta had retired to her quarters. And Sara stood at her bedroom window, staring out at the moonlit gardens, her mind spinning with questions she was too afraid to ask.
A soft knock made her turn.
Adrian stood in the doorway.
He looked different tonight. Softer. The sharp edges of the mafia king had faded, replaced by something almost vulnerable. He wore a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled up, revealing the fading bruises from his wounds.
"Can I come in?" he asked quietly.
Sara nodded.
He crossed the room slowly, stopping beside her at the window. For a moment, they just stood there, side by side, watching the moonlight paint silver patterns on the grass below.
"I've been thinking," Adrian said finally.
"About what?"
"About us." He turned to look at her. "About everything I said. Everything I confessed."
Sara's heart tightened. "Adrian—"
"Let me finish." His voice was gentle but firm. "I know I hurt you. I know the way our marriage started was wrong. I know I lied by omission. And I know that trust, once broken, is hard to rebuild."
He reached out and took her hand.
"But I also know that I've never felt this way about anyone. That you're the first person in years who makes me want to be better. That when I look at you, I don't see a contract or a plan or a convenient wife."
His thumb traced small circles on her skin.
"I see home."
Sara's eyes filled with tears.
"I'm scared," she whispered. "I'm scared that one day I'll wake up and realize none of this was real. That you'll go back to being the cold man who bought me."
Adrian shook his head slowly. "That man is gone. You killed him."
"Good."
He smiled—that real smile, the one only she got to see. "I thought so too."
Sara laughed softly. The sound was wet with tears, but it was real.
"Adrian... tonight... I don't want to wait anymore."
His breath caught. "Sara, are you sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything." She stepped closer, close enough to feel his warmth. "I love you. Despite everything. Because of everything. And I don't want to spend another night alone in this big bed, wondering what it would feel like to fall asleep in your arms."
Adrian's hands came up to frame her face. His touch was gentle, reverent, like she was something precious.
"You're sure?" he whispered again.
Instead of answering, Sara kissed him.
The kiss was different from before.
Deeper. Slower. More deliberate.
Adrian's arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. Sara melted into him, her hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, closer, never close enough.
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed. She fell back against the soft sheets, and he followed, his body warm and solid above her.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured against her lips. "Any time. Just say the word."
"I don't want you to stop."
His lips traced a path down her neck. Sara gasped, her fingers threading through his hair.
"I love you," she breathed. "I love you so much."
Adrian lifted his head, his dark eyes burning into hers.
"And I love you. More than I thought it was possible to love anything."
He kissed her again, and the world faded away.
Later—much later—Sara lay in Adrian's arms, her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
His fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder.
"Regrets?" he asked quietly.
Sara tilted her head to look at him. "Only that we didn't do this sooner."
Adrian's lips curved. "Good answer."
She smiled and rested her head back on his chest.
For a long time, they lay in comfortable silence.
Then Adrian spoke, his voice thoughtful.
"You never asked me about my mother."
Sara's heart stopped.
Dimitri's message. The secret. The question she had been avoiding.
"I know," she whispered. "I wanted to. But I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of what I might find out."
Adrian was quiet for a moment. Then he shifted, pulling her closer.
"My mother died when I was fifteen," he said quietly. "Dimitri was twelve. Our father... our father was not a good man."
Sara held her breath.
"He killed her."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Sara lifted her head, staring at him. "Adrian..."
"I found her. Came home from school and found her on the floor." His voice was flat, emotionless, but his eyes told a different story. "My father was gone. Dimitri was hiding in his room. And I was alone with her body for hours before anyone came."
Sara's eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry."
"I killed him, you know. My father. Three years later. Dimitri never forgave me for it."
Sara frowned. "He wanted you to let your father live? After what he did?"
Adrian's jaw tightened. "Dimitri worshipped our father. Didn't matter what he did. Didn't matter that he killed our mother. Dimitri loved him anyway."
Sara thought about Dimitri—his cold eyes, his cruel smile, his desperate need to destroy Adrian.
He blames Adrian for killing their father.
Even though their father was a murderer.
"Does Dimitri know?" she whispered. "Does he know what your father did?"
"He knows. He doesn't care." Adrian's arms tightened around her. "Some people can't be saved, Sara. Dimitri is one of them."
Sara pressed closer to him, offering what comfort she could.
"Thank you for telling me," she whispered.
Adrian kissed her forehead. "Thank you for staying."
They held each other as the night deepened.
Outside, the moon continued its slow journey across the sky.
And somewhere in the city, Dimitri waited.
But tonight, none of that mattered.
Tonight, they had each other.