I don’t know what I’m doing at Matteo’s doorstep with my luggage in my hand. All I know is I won’t run. I don’t know what’s going on between us. I doubt we can ever work through the damage we have caused each other, but if I leave without trying to figure this out, it will feel like running.

He will come after me eventually. He might be trying to change, but he hasn’t changed that quickly. And he will continue to haunt my dreams as he has for the past few weeks.

Our child will grow up without a father, and I won’t have a reasonable explanation as to why, other than he was a monster once and I never gave him a chance to change.

So I guess that’s what I’m doing knocking on his door. Seeing if he can change. And seeing if I can forgive.

I’m not sure if one or either is possible. But the growing baby in my stomach convinces me I need to try at least.

The door opens, and I’m shocked Matteo is the one that opens the door, but then I remember he has plenty of security to tell him who is standing at his door.

“Hi,” I say, my voice sounding weaker than I’d hoped.

“Hi, would you like to come in?” he asks, his voice just as weak.

I nod.

He takes my suitcase from my hand and holds the door while I step in. It’s strange walking in the front door instead of the side from the garage. It was strange ringing the doorbell. His house had started to feel like home the last time I was here.

“Can I get you anything? Something to eat or drink?” Matteo asks. He’s nervous.

So am I. I wanted to pretend he didn’t affect me when I stepped inside this house. That’s not possible.

“No, I’m fine.”

He tries to be patient with me, but it’s clear he can’t be.

“What do you want then?” he asks.

“Let’s go out back and talk.”

He nods and places his hand on the small of my back as he leads me through the house to the back patio. I like having his hand touching me, even if his hand has done wrong, monstrous things.

We take a seat on couches, opposite each other. I want him sitting right next to me, touching me, comforting me, but it’s not what this conversation needs.

I sit in silence, watching him squirm, trying to remain calm and patient with me. I like watching him squirm, so I take my time before I speak.

“I can’t forgive you,” I say.

He sucks in a breath, and his eyes turn sad.

“But I can try. Maybe I can’t forgive you, but we can start from here and grow into something better. Or maybe we can’t. I don’t know. I just know I don’t want to run. I want to stay and figure this out. I want to see if the man that sends me flowers and love notes every day is possible of actually loving this baby and me. I think he can.”

“I can. I love you more than I want to keep breathing.”

“I have a couple of conditions.”

He nods, his eyes glaring into mine as his hands grip the armrests to keep himself glued to his seat.

“I’m not a slave. I’m free—”

“You’re free. It’s not something I want anymore. I don’t want to trap you or kidnap you ever again. I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

I smile and nod. “Good. You don’t get to tell me what to do or boss me around in any way. We make decisions together. Understand?”

“Yes, together,” he says, smirking a little as I smile at him, giving up a little of my authority.

“And you give up searching for Nina. You leave Nina and Arlo alone.”

This is the one condition I expect to be the hardest for him. I don’t understand what his connection is to her. I don’t know if he still wants her or wants revenge. I don’t know.

When I was free, I called Nina a few times. I didn’t tell her what happened. I pretended I was still back in the US and had just been busy working. But she didn’t seem that shocked I hadn’t called in a while. She understood I was busy with work.

“I won’t go after Nina or Arlo. I give you my word,” Matteo says without hesitation.

I listen to his words looking for any deception. But I believe him. I have to if I’m going to give whatever crazy relationship we have a shot again.

It doesn’t mean I won’t want him to continue proving it to me over and over.

But to be honest, something changed when I found out I was pregnant in the hospital. Matteo changed. He set me free. And I realized what I wanted, more than my freedom was to be with him. How fucked up is that?

“Can I show you something?” Matteo asks.

I nod.

He holds out his hand, and I take it automatically, feeling his warm grip comfort me with just his touch.

He leads me inside, and we walk to his bedroom. I smirk, he’s going to show me his cock. He’s such a guy.

He opens the door that isn’t locked and holds it open while I step inside.

It’s so bright. Light shines in through the large windows that he usually keeps hidden beneath the drapes. The bed and furniture are gone and replaced by white antique furniture with a light gray comforter and turquoise and pink pillows.

“Pink?”

He shrugs. “I had Gia help. She said you would like the pink.”

I laugh. But my laughter soon turns to tears when I see the bassinet he put in the corner next to the bed. I walk over and run my hand across the white lace fabric draped over it.

I turn to Matteo who has his hands in his pockets. He does that when he wants to touch me but won’t let himself do it.

“I started clearing out the room next door for a baby’s room, but I thought I should wait to see if you’d come back before I decorated it. I thought you might enjoy doing that. And I had no idea what color you would want it to be.”

“Pink.”

He chuckles. “It can be pink, or whatever color makes you happy.”

I shake my head because he doesn’t understand what I’m saying. I walk over to him swaying my hips just to torture him.

“There is a reason I want it pink, and it’s not because I like the color.”

He frowns. “Why?”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing hysterically. He’s so clueless; he doesn’t even understand what I’m saying. “I’m having a girl.”

I don’t know how he will respond. If I had to guess which gender he would prefer, it would be a boy. A boy to follow in his footsteps and his father’s before him. A boy that will become as ruthless as him. He would have taught him how to shoot a gun at the same time he learned to walk most likely.

He grabs me by the waist and twirls me around before kissing me firmly on the lips. “We are having a girl.”

I nod. “We.” I like the sound of that.

He kisses me again, and his hands are all over my body, feeling my curves like he hasn’t felt them in years instead of weeks.

I moan because I’ve missed his hands just as much. Honestly, I’ve yearned for everything about him. Even the darkness.

I throw my hands around his neck, not thinking of anything but Matteo. I want him, and he wants me. I don’t care that I haven’t forgiven him yet. I don’t care that I still don’t know what I want and he’s still the devil. I don’t care about any of our problems.

I want him. Naked. Worshipping my body. Making it so that all I can think about his tongue, his hands, and his cock.

He gets the message immediately and pushes us back on the bed. We fall in a heap, our arms and legs tangling together, refusing to let go of each other.

I grab for the hem of his T-shirt, jerking it off his head so that I can see and taste his hard skin. He helps me pull off his shirt before his lips land back on mine again, not giving me enough time to ogle his body as I want, but when his tongue sweeps over mine, I forget about hot his body is. I can look later. I only want this. So much more of this.

His hands slide under my shirt, careful over my belly, and push my flowy tank up, as his hands caress my swollen breasts.

Every time he touches me it feels like more. More intensity. More caring. More energy. More love.

He pushes the shirt off my body and stands to remove both of our pants until we are both naked, our bodies pulsing with blood and filled with aches that need satiating.

“Tie me up. Spank me. Whip me. Claim me,” I beg, needing to see the darkest side of him again. He might think that is one of the reasons I ran, but it’s not. It’s one of the things I surprisingly like about sex with him. He’s not afraid to be himself with me. Even the darkest parts.

But his darkest parts allow for me to be free.

His eyes deepen, and his throat growls. At first, I think he’s going to give me what I want.

Instead, he spreads my legs wide, and his head buries between my legs, licking my most sensitive of areas as he worships my body. I grab his hair, needing to touch him, as he drives me wild with his masterful tongue.

“God, yes, Matteo. I forgot how good that feels.”

He grins against my lips as he continues to lick until I’m screaming his name and coming around his tongue.

My legs fall to the bed, exhausted from coming. But I know we aren’t done. I need his cock, and he needs me.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

I stare up at him with wide eyes, not sure what he’s asking, but if it has to do with tying me up or spanking, then yes. I trust him completely.

“Yes,” I whisper, still in my sex coma from coming once already.

He scoops up my body and starts carrying my naked body. I think he’s going to carry me out of the bedroom to another room where he thinks he can fuck me better. He doesn’t.

He takes me to the couch where he raped me.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath as he forces me to face the worse in him. I expect the butterflies and the pain in my heart to overtake me. I wait for the tears to pour. But they don’t come.

He lays me down, ever so gently on the couch and then carefully nests himself between my legs.

“I want to fuck you. Make love to you,” he says, waiting for me to respond.

“Fuck me,” I respond, knowing we both need this if we are ever going to have a shot at moving forward together.

He leans down and kisses me tenderly as his cock slides into my pussy. I arch my back at the invasion, wanting him deeper as he intensifies the kiss and tangles his hand in my hair.

His eyes are open as he kisses me and thrusts inside. I keep my eyes open as well, not willing to miss one moment of the emotion oozing out of his eyes.

His eyes tell me everything as he fucks me sweetly. I’m sorry. You’re beautiful. You’re my everything. I love you.

I never thought that someone could say so much and my heart would melt so quickly.

He kisses my favorite spot on my neck making my toes curl before he says, “I love you, Eden. More than anything.”

I suck in a breath as he starts bringing me to my climax again.

My body convulses exploding around him as he comes inside me. “I love you, too.”

He stays inside me holding me on the couch for what must be hours as we both drift to sleep. The couch used to represent so much pain. He tied me up here. He raped me here. But now, I can’t think of this couch without thinking about what just happened. We made loved and found the first step toward what could be a forever kind of love here. The beginning of forgiveness.

* * *

Our love and forgiveness continue to grow over the next month, as our baby grows large in my stomach, making it clear how pregnant I am when I’m wearing anything other than a baggy T-shirt to cover up my bump.

Our days are filled with normal things that normal couples do. Dates. Fights. Cooking. Sex. And a lot of decorating the baby’s soon to be room.

Matteo painted the walls pink for me. I hated it, so he painted it this beautiful gold sparkly color. But then I saw this gorgeous crib that was a silver color that would have been perfect, and he offered to paint it again. He might have to, but for now, I’ve settled on gold with pink accents.

Our life has been simple. Good. But we haven’t talked about any of the big stuff. I figure if we can get through the little things like what we are having for dinner and what movie we are watching on our dates, then the big stuff will come.

Am I ever going back to the US and my old life? Do I want to start a new career here? What are we going to name this baby? What life do we want for her? Is Matteo going to continue killing people? Am I okay if he does? Are Nina and Arlo ever going to be safe to come out of hiding?

I don’t know the answers to any of those questions. All I know is that I’m desperately in love with Matteo. And he’s equally in love with me. And both of us are smitten with our baby that’s due in a few months. What else could we need?

It’s early in the morning when Matteo slips out of bed, throws on some clothes, and sneaks out of our bedroom without kissing me goodbye or letting me know he was leaving.

He rarely does this. But he has done it a handful of times over the last month. He doesn’t tell me where he is going and I don’t ask. But I know what he is doing. Working.

Just one of the many topics we should discuss and be honest with each other, but we don’t. I guess we aren’t doing as well as I thought we were.

I try sleeping, but I know it is a useless endeavor. I can’t sleep with him out of bed.

I get out of bed and put on a robe, deciding I should head downstairs to get some coffee and drink it out on the back balcony to watch the sunrise and think about how we should handle all the things we are too afraid to talk about.

I make it to the kitchen and start pouring myself a cup of coffee when I hear Matteo’s voice ringing through the hallway before it drops to barely a whisper.

I frown. That’s weird. He’s working in his home office instead of the warehouse.

I decide to go give him a kiss, bring him a cup of coffee, and let him know I’ll be out on the balcony if he wants to join me when he is finished with his phone call. I pour another cup of coffee and then carry them both down the hallway to Matteo’s office.

“I have them. I know where Nina and Arlo are,” Matteo says.

I freeze outside the door, my heart sinking.

“Yes, I remember our deal. I’ll be ready to bring them to you by the end of the week.”

I try to calm my breathing and heart, but both are beating so speedily I’m sure that Matteo can hear me lurking outside his door.

“Yes, father. You can do whatever you want with Nina and Arlo. I’ll even help you kill them if you want. But you have to keep your end of the deal. I expect to be paid well for this, and you promise to leave Italy and never return. I don’t want you messing with what is mine now.”

I can’t listen anymore. He’s making me sick. I thought he had changed. I thought he cared about me, loved me. I didn’t think he was ready to give up his entire life and I never asked him to. All I asked was for him to give up Nina. That’s all I wanted. To keep her safe.

He told me he loved her once, but it was never about love. It was always about revenge and money. That’s how he and his father both think. That’s why Nina chose Arlo.

I need a phone.

I run through the house, needing to find a phone to call Nina. The thing that I’ve spent my entire time trying not to do, I now have to do. Matteo figured out where Nina and Arlo are. He might already have men there, ready to take them. I have to warn them.

The problem is there are no fucking phones in this house. I know because I’ve looked countless times.

I see Maximo round the corner. He must be on duty this morning. He’s not my favorite. He doesn’t usually want to help. But today, I’ll force him to help me.

“Maximo,” I shout.

He stops.

“I need to use your phone,” I say, panting heavily.

He stares at me a moment, and I think he’s going to say no. He’s going to revert back to the slave talk and say I don’t get such privileges.

Instead, he pulls out his phone and hands it to me.

“I need to go patrol outside for a bit. I’ll make sure to buy you your own phone after I get done with my patrol. I’m sure Matteo meant for you to have a phone but hasn’t gotten around to getting you one yet,” he says.

Even Maximo thinks highly of Matteo. Matteo has fooled everyone, his trusty employees included.

“Thank you, Maximo,” I say. I don’t tell him that the new phone won’t be necessary because I won’t be staying. I need to warn Nina and then get out of here as fast as I can.

When Maximo has walked outside, I pull up the keyboard and begin typing the number I memorized that Nina gave me for emergencies only. I wait impatiently, pacing back and forth in the hallway hoping that Nina answers. If she answers, she’s still alive.

I hear the phone click over, “Nin—”

The phone is snatched out of my hand, and Matteo speaks, “I have Eden. I’ve had her for the past year. If you want to save her, I suggest you and Arlo get to Italy. Fast.”

“No,” I shout, hoping she hears me before he hangs up the phone.

“She won’t come. You won’t get her.”

He shakes his head, and I swear I see tears in his menacing eyes.

“Nina will come. She loves you. She will do anything to protect you,” Matteo says.

He’s right. And I hate him for it.

“You won’t hurt her. You promised. You won’t turn her over to Enrico. You can’t.”

He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

I back up, sick and tired of his apologies.

“If you do this, we are done. I won’t forgive you for this. I’ll run. And I’ll take our baby with me. You’ll never get to see her.”

“If that is what you think is for the best, then I will let you go. You won’t have to run; I won’t come after you or our daughter. You can be free.”

I narrow my eyes, not understanding him. He’s fought so hard to get me back only to let me go now? It doesn’t make sense.

“When this is all over, I’ll let you go.”

I see the syringe in his hand too late. I feel the sting, and then my eyes grow heavy. If this fucks up our baby, I’ll kill him. He catches me in his arms, and the last thing I remember is him saying, “This is for the best. It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

He could have said those words. Or my brain may have imagined them because I was too desperate to hold onto the thought that he still loves me and we can be a happy family someday. He could have said those words. He could have been protecting me. Or he could not have given a fuck at all.