Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I got a silent thrill hearing our names together that way, even if it meant tying us to Cristiano. For once, I didn’t feel so helpless. I could act. Wanting to marry Diego—to take his name and give myself to him in every sense—no longer felt small, selfish, or disobedient. With our promise to each other before God, I’d be saving us all. There was no holier union than that.
“But would Cristiano help us?” I said. “Have you asked?”
“It came up when we spoke earlier, but I’d decided not to ask this of you.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said.
“If you go, Tali, you at least have a chance of survival. Your safety can be arranged, and you can continue your schooling. Agreeing to this means—”
“I stay. I know.” None of that mattered now. I could figure out my school situation later. “Did Cristiano agree when you spoke to him?”
“He’s greedy and calculating. For once, it works in our favor. But a warning—I’d have to be willing to promise him anything to get him on our side. Even if I don’t mean to keep those promises. Once we’re safe and can regroup, we’ll strategize a way to separate from him.” Diego gently took my face, thumbing the corners of my mouth. “I wish it had never come to this, Tali, but this is where we are. Would you do this for me?”
My heart skipped. I didn’t need a proposal or pretty words or a grand gesture. I just needed Diego. “Life or death. I belong to you in either.”
He swooped down to wrap his arms around my waist and lift me off my feet. “What have I done to deserve your love and loyalty?”
“Everything.”
He brushed kisses along my neck and jaw, eliciting a shiver from my body. I had no idea how it was possible that moments ago, everything had felt hopeless, and now I couldn’t stop smiling. “How do we do it?” I asked.
He caressed my cheek with his stubble, a scrape that soothed me with its familiarity. “On Sunday, pack your bags before Mass. You’ll make a stop along the way to the helicopter. Don’t breathe a word to your father, or he’ll try to stop us.”
I squirmed, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. I’d never been allowed in on any top-secret plans around here. “What stop am I making?”
Finally, his eyes danced as his posture straightened once again. It felt good to be able to take away his worries. “When we were kids, you wanted to go to Antarctica.”
I laughed. “That’s my stop?”
“No, but is the coldest place on Earth still on your bucket list?”
“I thought it sounded exotic—it was always so hot here. The grass was greener and all that.”
He smiled. “I’m not even sure they have grass there. So where do you want to go?”
Fleetingly, I thought of my life in California, and all the dreams I’d had for us there. Was that over? Or on hold? I couldn’t think of that now. Nothing mattered more than the man standing in front of me. “Why?” I asked. “Will we have to leave for a while?”
“No, mi amor.” He lowered me onto my feet. “Just indulge me.”
Ah. A honeymoon? He kept me in his arms as I kept mine around his neck. I lifted one shoulder, trying not to seem too giddy. “I’ve been many places with Papá. New York, Buenos Aires, São Paulo . . . and I’ve seen even more with my school friends.” I ran my palm down his wide, muscular chest. “But I’ve not yet been to Southern Europe. I’d like to see Tuscany.”
“Make me a promise,” he said, absentmindedly twirling the ends of my hair around his finger. “If things get hard, if you miss me and we can’t connect, promise me you’ll dream of us under the warmth of the Italian sun. When it’s dark, and you’re worried the light won’t come again, dream up ideas for us to do once we can get there.”
As tempting as it was to fall into that fantasy, all I heard was what he wasn’t saying. There was a chance we would be separated. “Diego . . .”
He kissed the tip of my nose. “Just know that it may not be right away, but we’ll make it to Europe one day. When the time is right.”
I balled his t-shirt in my fist. “You’re making me nervous.”
“I’m the one who’s nervous.” He raised his eyebrows. “See the sweat on my temple?”
I blew gently on his hairline to cool him. “What is it?”
He took my hands, kissed each of my palms, and held them between us as if we were standing at the altar. “I can’t ask what I want to ask. It wouldn’t be right. But . . .”
I blinked up at him. What could possibly make him nervous when his life had just been on the line—and still was?