Chapter 10: The New Normal
Morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Ellie woke slowly, the silk sheets cool against her skin. Allesio’s arm was draped over her waist, his breathing steady and deep.
She turned her head.
Studied his face in sleep.
The hard lines softened. The tension gone. He looked younger somehow. More human.
She reached out.
Touched his cheek.
His eyes opened immediately.
Dark. Alert. Watching.
“Good morning,” she whispered.
His arm tightened around her.
“It is now.”
She smiled.
“You’re not a morning person.”
“I’m not a anything person except yours.”
She laughed.
Pushed at his chest.
“That was terrible.”
“You love it.”
She did.
She loved all of it.
The mornings and the arguments and the quiet evenings. The way he watched her paint. The way he held her when she had nightmares about Michael’s betrayal. The way he kept his promises, day after day.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it was theirs.
“What’s on the schedule today?” she asked.
“Meeting with Marco about the Donovan situation. Then lunch with you. Then I have calls until evening.”
She nodded.
“The Donovan situation” was code for things she didn’t want to know. She’d learned to read between the lines.
“Can I go to the art supply store this afternoon?”
He considered.
“With Marco.”
“With Marco,” she agreed.
It was their compromise.
She got her freedom. He got his peace of mind.
“I’m making progress on the new series,” she said. “The one for the gallery show.”
“I know. I watched you yesterday.”
“You were spying.”
“Admiring.”
She rolled her eyes.
But she was smiling.
He kissed her forehead.
Then slipped out of bed.
She watched him walk toward the bathroom. The play of muscles in his back. The confidence in his stride.
This was her life now.
A man who would burn the world for her. A studio where she could create. A future that was uncertain but no longer terrifying.
She reached for her phone on the nightstand.
No messages from unknown numbers.
No threats.
Just peace.
She set the phone down.
Followed Allesio into the bathroom.
The water was warm. His arms were strong. And for a moment, she forgot about everything except the feeling of being held.
Later, she stood in her studio.
Paint on her hands.
Sunlight on her face.
The canvas before her was almost finished. Two figures. Intertwined. A love story told in blue and gold.
She picked up her brush.
Added one final stroke.
Then stepped back.
“It’s done,” she said.
Allesio appeared in the doorway.
“What’s done?”
She turned to him.
Smiled.
“Everything. Nothing. The beginning.”
He crossed the room.
Looked at the painting.
His expression softened.
“It’s us.”
“Yes.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s ours.”
He pulled her into his arms.
Kissed her.
And outside, the city hummed on.
Below, his men watched.
Ahead, there would be more challenges.
But in this moment, she was exactly where she belonged.
—
The woman who tried to leave the mafia boss learned that some cages are built not of bars, but of devotion. And the only thing more dangerous than loving a man like Allesio Moretti was the possibility of living without him.
