The doors opened with a low groan of steel and security, just after midnight.
Rose didn't flinch—she was already awake, sitting in the lounge with a book open but unread in her lap. She had been waiting. The second she heard Silvio's familiar footsteps echo through the marble corridor, something inside her unlocked. Her breath caught. He was home.
Silvio stepped into the room, and the weight of the outside world followed him like a stormcloud. His tie was loose, jaw locked, black dress shirt half-unbuttoned, revealing faint bruising near his ribs. He didn't say anything at first—he just looked at her.
His dark eyes were tired, rimmed red from too much smoke or too little sleep. But they still softened at the sight of her.
"You're back," Rose said quietly, rising from the couch.
"I shouldn't be," Silvio replied, voice low and hoarse. "But I couldn't stay away."
Something in her cracked at those words. Against her own better judgment, she moved toward him, reached up and brushed her fingers lightly against his cheek. He didn't resist her touch—he leaned into it.
"Sit," she murmured. "You look like you've been through war."
"I have," he said simply, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed, dragging a hand through his hair. "It's never over. And now that they know about you…"
Rose knelt in front of him without hesitation, placing her hand over his. "We'll deal with it. Together."
For a long moment, Silvio didn't answer. He stared at her, his jaw flexing. Then he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, his hand gripping her jaw firmly, almost desperately.
"I missed you," he whispered.
And just like that, restraint shattered.
He kissed her—hard, rough, no prelude. A growl ripped from his throat as he pushed her backward onto the bed, crawling over her like a man coming undone. Rose gasped, clutching at his shirt as their mouths clashed, teeth and tongue, fire and silk. There was no ceremony in it—just raw hunger and a need to feel something other than the weight of everything outside this room.
His hand slid under her nightdress, gripping her thigh as he pinned her to the mattress. She arched into him, gasping again as he kissed down her neck, his stubble scraping her skin.
"Tell me," he growled, pulling her dress higher. "Tell me you want this."
"I do," she whispered, breathless. "I need this."
Silvio didn't waste another second. He tore her underwear aside and entered her in a single hard thrust, making her cry out as her body arched violently beneath him. He didn't ease into her. He couldn't. It was brutal, claiming, and so damn necessary.
Rose moaned his name, fingers clawing at his back as he moved harder, faster, punishing in his rhythm. But beneath the savagery, there was something else—a desperation. A fear. As though if he didn't anchor himself inside her, he'd slip into darkness completely.
"You're mine," he hissed into her ear, biting the edge. "Only mine."
"Yes," she gasped, tears pricking her eyes from the intensity. "Yours."
The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, louder than her broken moans. He buried his face in her neck, groaning as he came inside her, body trembling, shoulders taut. But even after, he didn't let go.
He stayed inside her, pressed against her like he was trying to disappear there.
Minutes passed before either of them moved.
Rose finally brushed her fingers through his damp hair. "Silvio…"
He exhaled harshly, finally rolling onto his side, pulling her against him possessively. She was still trembling—her body sore, breath uneven, but she didn't regret any of it. She was falling for him. Hard.
He kissed her temple, slower this time. Calmer.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I needed… this."
"I know," she whispered back. "I did too."
She hesitated, then pulled back just enough to look at him. "Someone came to see me while you were gone."
Silvio's eyes narrowed instantly. "Who?"
"Eleanor Moore."
Everything shifted.
Silvio sat up slowly, the shadows returning to his face. "What did she want?"
"She said she knew my mother," Rose said. "And warned me to be careful. That you have secrets I don't know yet."
He didn't deny it. He didn't flinch.
"She's trying to split you from me," he said darkly. "She always knew how to cut deep."
Rose frowned. "What does she know about our families?"
Silvio turned to her, brushing a hand down her arm.
"Too much," he murmured. "Eleanor Moore was the one who convinced your mother to betray us. And she's not done playing her game."
"Why keep her alive, then?" Rose asked.
Silvio looked away. "Because some enemies are more useful alive… until they aren't."
Silence settled, thick and uneasy.
"I need to know everything," Rose said softly. "Not just pieces."
Silvio met her eyes. "You will. But not tonight."
He lay back down, pulling her into his chest like armor. And this time, Rose didn't fight it.
She let him hold her.
Even if the storm hadn't passed.