I’m Soraya Byrd.My tear ducts are drier than the Sahara—I don’t cry.So why do my eyes feel like wet stones right now?Why are they burning?
“Since when?”I ask, voice cracking.“You’re Stefano Castello.Everyone knows the only things the King of Vegas loves are money, himself...and maybe his twin.”
“And now you.”
My heart thuds, heavy and uneven.Eyes stinging, I take a step back.“I don’t believe you.”
“Why do you think I’m here, Soraya?Why I endured all the bullshit, let myself be drugged, chipped without permission?What do you think it’s all for, if not because I’m crazy in love with you?”
Shaking my head, I take another step back.“Because y-you like to own things.You like to claim, to chase, to win.Go after what you want and...”
What the hell is going on with my eyes today?I blink upward in an attempt to stave off the burning, the stinging wetness that feels so utterly foreign.
“Does it scare you?”he asks.“Does it scare you that I love you?”
“Yes.”
“Would you feel better if I didn’t?”
“Yes.”
“Why?Because dysfunction feels safer?”
Yes.
When I don’t answer, he steps in and gently cups my neck, his thumbs lifting my chin.“This is a first for me,” he says, low and raw.“I’ve never been in love before.And I’m not even sure what it all means.But the things I feel for you are…big, and intense.Overwhelming sometimes.”
His brows tighten slightly, as if the admission costs him.“It’s…a lot.And even though I spent my whole life fearing the weakness and vulnerability that comes with love, now that it’s happened… None of it scares me.Just the opposite.This is the most alive I’ve ever felt.”
He sweeps the pads of his thumbs along my jaw.“You make me see color again, Soraya.You make me aware of the wind and the birds and the sky.My senses, my zest for life and success that were dead a few years ago have...revived somehow?”
He lets out a soft, self-deprecating laugh.“I don’t know, it sounds foolish saying it out loud, but…that’s how it feels.All I can see, hear, smell, taste is you.My soul’s alive again because...I think it’s been waiting for you.”
He runs the tip of his thumb under my lower lip.“So no, Soraya, I’m not going to give you the dysfunction you want.I’m going toloveyou, because that’s what you deserve.If you don’t want to hear it, fine.I’ll show it.I’ll keep showing it until you believe you’re nobody’s punching bag or chess piece.You’remyfucking queen.An extraordinary woman deserving of extraordinary love.And they’re going to see it, recognize it, and fuckingacceptit.”
I chew my bottom lip and search his eyes.There’s no trace of deceit.Only raw, unfiltered sincerity.Earnest and steady.He’s not pulling one over on me, not playing a game.This is real.
This isn’t soft Stefano, or moody Stefano, or even asshole Stefano.This is a different man altogether.
This is Stefano...in love.
“Okay…” I step forward, closing the distance between us.“You can hug me.”
A faint smile tugs at his lips as he wraps his arms around me.Strong, comforting, reassuring, protective.He offers no more words.But he doesn’t need to.Everything he wants me to know is in the curve of his arms, the warmth of his chest, the steadiness of his breaths.Letting me know he sees me, understands me, accepts me completely.
Sixteen-year-old Soraya needed this hug from her mom.From her dad.She never got it.She had to learn to hug herself.To find solace in her own arms.
Until now…
For the first time in nine years, a tear slips down my cheek.
Mortified, I bury my face in Stefano’s chest before he can notice.Maybe I’m not as numb, not as deadened, as I thought.
And somehow...that realization fills me with a strange, quiet relief.
CHAPTER FORTY–SEVEN
Soraya
