로그인JAMESONI woke before Cat, which was rare.The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, painting golden stripes across the white sheets. She was curled against me, her dark hair spilled across my chest, one hand resting over my heart.Our last day in Italy.The thought made something tighten in my chest—not quite sadness, but close. These two weeks had been perfect. No threats. No violence. No constant vigilance.Just us.I wanted one more day of that. One perfect day before we returned to Chicago and everything that waited for us there.I pressed a kiss to her hair, and she stirred, making a soft sound of protest."Morning," I murmured."Too early," she mumbled against my chest."It's almost nine.""Still too early." But she was already waking up, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin. "What time do we have to leave for the airport?""Not until tomorrow morning."Her eyes opened then, finding mine. "Tomorrow?""I may have extended our stay by one day." I smiled at her
JAMESONThe hotel in Positano was built into the cliffside, with terraces that overlooked the sea and a pool that seemed to drop right into the Mediterranean. Our room had floor-to-ceiling windows, a massive bed, and a balcony where you could watch the sunset.We didn't make it to the balcony.Barely made it to the bed, actually.The door had barely closed behind us before Cat was pulling me toward her, her mouth finding mine with an urgency that made my blood sing. We shed clothes in a trail across the room—her sundress pooling on the floor, my shirt following, shoes kicked aside without care.By the time we reached the bed, we were both breathing hard, hands exploring, mouths tasting. The afternoon sun streamed through those massive windows, painting her skin gold, and I took a moment just to look at her."What?" she asked, her voice breathless."You're beautiful," I said simply.
JAMESONOne week in Italy, and I'd never seen Cat like this.The first seven days had been a revelation—watching her slowly shed the layers of vigilance and control she'd worn her entire life. We'd spent mornings in bed, afternoons exploring Tuscan villages, and evenings on the terrace with wine and cheese and the kind of conversation that made hours disappear.The food had been incredible. Fresh pasta made by the couple who managed the villa, local wines that tasted like sunshine, gelato that made Cat close her eyes and moan in a way that made me want to drag her back to bed immediately.The art had left her speechless. We'd spent an entire day in Florence, and I'd watched her stand in front of Michelangelo's David for twenty minutes, her expression one of pure wonder.And the lovemaking... God, the lovemaking.Every night. Sometimes twice. Once in the afternoon, when we'd come back from wine tasting and couldn't make it past the living room couch.But it was more than just the physi
"Because—" I struggled to find a reason that didn't sound ridiculous. "Because it's inappropriate.""Inappropriate?" He laughed. "Cat, we're married. There's nothing inappropriate about it.""The pilot—""Is in the cockpit with the door closed and noise-canceling headphones on." His fingers traced patterns on my leg. "He won't hear a thing."My face was burning now, and I hated how much I loved the way he was looking at me—like he wanted to devour me right here in this seat."You're terrible," I muttered."You love it." He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear. "And you love that I can't keep my hands off you. That I want you constantly. That even after last night, I'm already thinking about the next time I can be inside you."A shiver ran through me, and I felt heat pool low in my belly.He was right. I did love it.I'd spent my whole life being valued for what I could do—how well I could fight, how efficiently I could kill, how effectively I could protect.But Jameson valued me fo
JAMESONThe dining room at the Connelly estate had been set for eight, the long mahogany table gleaming under the chandelier. It wasn't often we hosted formal family dinners anymore—not since I'd taken over leadership—but tonight felt important. A send-off before Cat and I disappeared for two weeks.Grandfather sat at the head of the table, looking more relaxed than I'd seen him in months. Carmine and Rosa occupied the seats to his right, with Marco beside them. Declan sat to Grandfather's left, and Cat and I took the remaining seats across from her parents.The first course had just been served—a light antipasto that Rosa immediately praised—when Carmine leaned forward."So," he said, swirling his wine. "Two weeks in Italy. Where exactly are you taking my daughter?"I smiled. "Rome first. Then Florence, Venice, and we'll end in the Amalfi Coast.""Ambitious," Marco commented. "That's a lot of ground to cover.""We're not rushing," I said, glancing at Cat. "We'll take our time. See wh
CATARINAThe boutique was called La Perla, and it was exactly the kind of place I'd spent my entire life avoiding.Soft lighting. Delicate displays. Mannequins draped in silk and lace that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. Everything was cream and blush pink and gold, designed to make women feel elegant and sophisticated.I felt like I was being led to my execution."Isn't this lovely?" Mama said, her eyes lighting up as she surveyed the store. "I've been coming here for years."Of course you have, I thought, but managed to keep my expression neutral.A sales associate materialized immediately, her smile professionally warm. "Mrs. Vitale! How wonderful to see you again. And this must be—" Her eyes widened slightly. "Mrs. Connelly. What an honor."Great. They knew who I was.Which meant they knew exactly why we were here."My daughter is going on her honeymoon," Mama announced, as if the entire store needed to know. "To Italy. We need to make sure she's properly... pr
CATARINAThe dress hung in my room like a ghost.White silk and lace, layers upon layers of tulle that made it look less like a wedding gown and more like a monument to everything I wasn't. Everything I'd never wanted to be.My mother had chosen well. It was traditional, elegant, suffocating. The k
CATARINAIf there were a hell specifically designed for women like me, it would look exactly like Bella Sposa Bridal Boutique.All white silk and champagne flutes and mirrors that reflected back a version of myself I barely recognized. The air smelled like expensive perfume and desperation, and eve
CATARINAThe reception was a special kind of torture.Four hours of smiling for photographers, cutting a cake I had no intention of eating, and dancing with a man who held me like I was a business asset he'd just acquired. Which, technically, I was.The first dance had been particularly excruciating
CATARINAThe dress was a fucking nightmare.I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my childhood bedroom, staring at the monstrosity of white silk and lace that had taken three people to wrestle me into. The bodice was so tight I could barely breathe, the skirt so voluminous I couldn't see my







