24. Javier

Chapter 24

Javier

M iserable doesn't begin to cover it. I spent hours staring at the ceiling, the ache in my chest a constant reminder of my mistakes. My eyes burned from sleepless nights, and the loneliness pressed down on me like a heavy fog. Writing those letters felt therapeutic, but baring my soul on paper instead of facing her confrontational, angry gaze was still painful.

It takes a special kind of man to let all the walls fall, and this is not me. But for her, I'm willing to try. There isn't a thing I wouldn't do for her, even let her go.

Lucchese agreed to take on her protection, a burden that feels like a life sentence. It's quite ironic, really, how I'm giving up part of my hard-earned freedom to ensure the woman I love can stay away from me. The irony isn't lost on me as I sit in this hotel room, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment in my mind.

I sealed each letter with trembling hands, pouring my heart onto paper, hoping she would see the love etched in every word. Days turned into weeks, the silence a cruel response. I found myself checking the mailbox repeatedly, each empty return shredding another piece of my hope.

I keep my eyes closed as the plane touches the tarmac. It's late afternoon here, and instead of going back to my place, to the illusion of a home I've made of it, I'm heading to a downtown hotel, waiting for Ophelia to leave me for good.

Maybe it's all I deserve; perhaps love is not for sinners, and I've sinned for far too long.

"Sir?"

I sigh, turning toward the hostess. "Yes. I'm coming."

When I get off the plane, I falter when I see Derek instead of my usual driver.

"Missed me that much, huh?"

He snorts. "No, we have somewhere to go."

I sigh. "Listen, man, my eyes are barely open. Three weeks of constant travel and meetings have left me feeling like a zombie." Long, depressing weeks. "I just want to?—"

"No, less whining, more moving. You'll thank me later."

Despite my exhaustion, a trace of curiosity keeps me from arguing. I follow Derek to his car, my mind swirling with questions. As we drive through the city, my mind drifts back to Ophelia, the pain of our separation still raw. The thought of losing her forever gnaws at my soul.

"How is she doing?"

"Who?"

I throw him an exasperated look.

"She's okay."

"I—" I frown when he takes the exit to East Harlem. "I booked a hotel downtown."

"I know."

"I want to punch you."

"No, you don't. Trust me, Javi—you don't."

My heart starts to pound in my chest as I realize where we are going, but I don't dare hope. I can't hope.

Finally, he parks in front of Midsummer Petals, and I let out a huff when I see the open sign.

"I think you should buy your woman some flowers, don't you agree?"

"Should I?" Lord, I sound pathetic.

"I'll see you later, my friend."

I step out of the car, each step toward the shop feeling heavier with anticipation and fear.

The bell above the door chimes as I enter, and the familiar scent of fresh flowers washes over me, a balm to my anxious soul.

Ophelia's back is to me as she carefully arranges a bouquet, the bell above the door chiming softly. She turns, her eyes lighting up with recognition, a smile spreading across her face.

She's smiling… at me.

"Welcome to Midsummer Petals. How can I help you?"

I stay frozen by the entrance, unsure of how to react. Is this a dream? It has to be a dream. Am I dead? Is she amnesic?

She moves from behind the counter and takes a couple of steps closer. I can't help but smile a little. She's wearing the apron I specially ordered for her—the "Bee Happy" one. Ah, fuck it. If it's a dream, I might as well enjoy it thoroughly.

"Yes, I—" My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. No, this isn't a dream—my dream version is far smoother. "I need some flowers."

Obviously, you do, dumbass , if you go to a flower shop. Lord, if this is role-playing, I need to step up my game. All I want to do, though, is reach out and trail my fingers along her soft cheek. It's almost uncontrollable, so I bury my hands in my pockets.

"Okay, and what's the occasion?"

"I messed up pretty bad but didn't realize it until it was too late, and I hurt her along the way."

"Ah, that's quite bad, isn't it?"

My heart is a little less heavy; my breathing is coming out a little easier. "Yes, it is—especially when I love the woman to the point of madness, and seeing her, not being able to touch her, take her into my arms, is pure torture."

She nods, but I see some color in her cheeks. God, I missed that blush that's coming out from something other than anger.

"It's a difficult one."

"Yes," I admit, taking a step closer, "but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

She tilts her head, those beautiful eyes locking onto mine with curiosity and challenge. "So, what kind of flowers do you think would help convey your feelings?" she asks, her voice a soft murmur that sends a shiver down my spine.

I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "I don't know, but I want something that shows regret… but also lo ve and hope. Something that says ‘I'm sorry' and ‘I love you' all at once."

Ophelia nods thoughtfully. "I think we can manage that." She turns to start selecting flowers, her movements graceful and deliberate.

As she works, I take in every detail, savoring this moment. The way her hands move, the way her hair falls over her shoulder, the way her apron fits perfectly around her waist. I'm overwhelmed by how much I've missed her, how much I need her.

"You know it will probably take far more than flowers to make things right."

My heart starts to hammer in my chest again, and I nod, hanging on to every word coming out of her mouth. The insidious hope is making its way back, wrapping its claws around my heart.

"It will most likely require a lot of patience to rebuild a trust that has been broken."

"As long as I know she still loves me. As long as she gives me hope that there could be a way back, I'll give her all the time in the world. There's no future without her."

She throws me a look, and I see the moisture accumulating in her eyes.

"Because she still loves me, right? If she's willing to work on things. She must still love me." I know my voice is begging, but I can't help it.

She remains silent as she finishes the bouquet and hands it to me.

"Here. A mix of white lilies for purity and commitment, red roses for deep love, and forget-me-nots for true love and memories."

I grab my wallet, but she shakes her head.

"It's on the house."

"Thank you," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "It's perfect."

As I turn to leave, I feel a gentle touch on my arm. I look back at her, and she's standing there with her arms wrapped around herself. It's a sort of protective gesture, and it pains me that she's doing it with me, even if I understand.

"You seem to be a hard man not to love. I'm sure she still does, even if she doesn't like it."

Fuck, slay me now. The joy I feel at that moment is everything, and I don't mind it when I take a step toward her and she immediately takes one back.

"But she probably needs a little more time. She needs to talk to you—really talk to you."

"Whatever she needs."

She nods, a small, hesitant smile forming on her lips. "Okay. Let's start with that."

My heart soars at her words. "I would love that. I will cook her dinner tonight."

She raises an eyebrow. "You cook?"

I shrug. "Cook, order—same difference."

She lets out a low chuckle.

"Okay?" I ask, tightening my hold on the flowers.

She smiles again, and this time it reaches her eyes. "Okay."

I leave the shop with the bouquet in hand, my heart lighter than it's been in a long time. This isn't just a dream. It's the beginning of a new chapter, one I hope will allow us to build a future together.

I spot Derek's car across the street.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask as I sit in the passenger seat. "I thought she just left the store to die with all the flowers inside."

"It was not my place to say, and you know she would not have done that. And based on the goofy smile on your face, I know I did good."

"She loves me."

Derek throws me a look that seems to say, "Are you slow?"

"So what now?"

"We have a long way to go, but knowing there's hope to fix this, it changes everything."

Getting back to the penthouse feels nice, especially now that the place carries her essence. I can smell her faint floral perfume when I step inside. The style is still as sterile as before, but her presence makes it a home.

I leave the flowers on the counter and the suitcase on the floor as I walk to the living room and notice the knitted blanket on the back of the white leather sofa. I grab it and bring it to my nose. It smells just like her. I can see her bundled on the sofa watching TV at night, and I hope that soon we can be together there.

I glance at my watch. I have a few hours before dinner, but I know I need to get everything right.

I order food because cooking is a nice idea in theory, but the last thing I need is to mess up the meal and ruin everything. I call the best Italian restaurant in town and order a ridiculous amount of food. Pasta, risotto, lasagna, tiramisu—enough to feed a small army. My nerves are getting the better of me, and I want to make sure there's something she likes.

With the food sorted, I head to the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water soothes my tense muscles, but my mind is racing. I need to look perfect tonight. I step out of the shower and look at myself in the mirror, trying to calm the jitters. This is it. This is my chance to make things right.

I head to the bedroom and open my closet, trying to decide what to wear. I settle on a navy-blue suit at first. It's classy and safe. But as I put it on, I feel it's too formal. I change into a white dress shirt and black trousers next, but it feels too businesslike.

I sigh in frustration and change into a casual button-down shirt and jeans. It feels too relaxed. Finally, I settle on a black dress shirt and gray slacks. It's the perfect balance—stylish but not over the top. I look at myself in the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles and making sure everything is in place.

I check the time again. An hour to go. I take a deep breath and walk back to the living room. The penthouse looks perfect, the food will be here soon, and I'm dressed to impress. I just hope I don't mess this up.

The doorman calls to announce the food, and I tell him to let him up. I tip him generously and set up the table, arranging the dishes in a way that looks inviting. I light a few candles, dim the lights, and step back to admire my work.

Everything is ready. Now, all that's left is to wait for Ophelia. The minutes feel like hours as I pace around the living room, checking my watch every few seconds. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, but one thing is clear—I need her to know how much I love her, how sorry I am, and how committed I am to making things right.

Finally, I hear it, the beep announcing her return.

I take a deep breath, grab the flowers, and go to wait by the elevator. Please, Tiago's God, make it alright for us.

The elevator doors slide open, and there she is. Ophelia steps out looking radiant and a bit apprehensive. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see a mix of emotions in them—hope, doubt, maybe even a hint of excitement.

"Hi," I say softly, offering her the flowers.

She takes them with a gentle smile, her fingers brushing against mine. "Hi," she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.

We stand there for a moment, just looking at each other. Everything unsaid remains between us, but I can feel the beginning of something new, something hopeful.

"These are beautiful," she says, inhaling the scent of the flowers. "Thank you."

I smile at her as she pretends to not be the creator of this masterpiece. "You're welcome," I say, my voice thick with emotion. "I wanted tonight to be special."

"It already is," she says softly. She glances at the dining table, then back at me. "I'm going to take a quick shower and freshen up. Is that okay?"

"Of course," I reply, nodding. "I'll warm the food in the meantime."

She smiles and steps closer, placing a tender kiss on my cheek. The touch of her lips sends a tingle through my entire being, making my heart race. "I'll be right back," she whispers.

As she heads to her room, I stand there for a moment, my cheek still tingling from her kiss. It's a simple gesture, but it means the world to me. I take a deep breath, feeling a wave of optimism wash over me.

I head to the kitchen and start warming up the food. The aroma fills the penthouse, and I take a moment to set the table perfectly. I want everything to be just right for her. For us.

A few minutes later, I hear her footsteps behind me. I turn around and see her standing there, her hair damp from the shower, cascading in loose waves over her shoulders. She's wearing a soft, midnight-blue dress that hugs her curves just right, the fabric shimmering subtly in the candlelight. The dress has a simple, elegant design with a V-neckline and delicate lace detailing at the sleeves and hem. It's both comfortable and sophisticated, perfectly reflecting her natural beauty.

"The food smells amazing," she says, walking over to the table.

"Not as amazing as you look," I reply, unable to take my eyes off her.

She blushes slightly and gives me a shy smile. "Thank you."

I pull out her chair, and when she sits, I get a lungful of her mouthwatering scent. God, how I want to brush my lips on her soft skin.

We sit down to eat, the atmosphere warm and intimate, and it still feels like this date is just another dream.

"How was your trip?" she asks after taking a sip of wine.

"Long, busy, and tiring. I was anxious to come home."

She nods. "Yes, I presume it takes a toll being away from home for so long."

"It was not the home I missed. It was the woman in it."

"Oh." She looks down at her plate and blushes, and I hate myself right now. I told myself I had to go slow because she was still unsure, and I bulldozed in at the second sentence.

I sigh, needing to get the rest of the ugly out now before I lose the courage. "I don't want any more secrets or lies between us. I make mistakes, but I also learn fast." This is how I managed to move up so fast. Well, that and my taste for blood, but there's no need to remind her of that.

She looks back up, and her green eyes shine almost eerily under the dim lights. "Yes, I would like that too."

"Nothing I told you during our time together was a lie."

"Javier, please don't?—"

"No, wait. What I mean is all my acknowledgment of the person you are—my awe, my care, and finally, my desire and love. Nothing was fake. I tried to fight it so hard, knowing it would be a mess for you and me, but it seems that love doesn't care about that."

"No," she replies softly. "Unfortunately, it doesn't."

It stings, even if I know it's not her intention to hurt me. I know what she's not saying. Part of her probably wished she could have not loved me and loved that stupid Romero instead.

"I never should have continued when I discovered who you were. I met a lot of Mafia princesses in the past few years—I needed an in with your father and these women, they are—" I shake my head. That's irrelevant.

"And you found me." She purses her lips.

I reach across the table for the hand that's holding her fork tightly, but as soon as my fingers brush the back of her hand, she moves it slowly out of the way.

Shit, I'm losing her. I need to go faster and cut through the crap.

"No, you were not my in. I already had one—Jeremy."

Her eyes widen, startled, and the oven timer beeps at the same time, giving me a little reprieve.

"Be right back." I grab our half-eaten plates of tomato and ricotta salad. Once I am out of view in the kitchen, I lean against the fridge and take a deep breath.

It's going to be okay, Javi. You need to do it.

I put on the mitts and grab the two plates of lasagna from the oven. When I come back to the table, Ophelia is still looking at the flame of the candle, processing the bombshell I just dropped.

"Jeremy betrayed my dad?" she asks as soon as I put the plate in front of her. "Is this why he disappeared?"

"Yes and no. Your father and the Gambinos think they killed Jeremy, but we saved him. Don't ask me where he is," I add quickly. "I don't know that. Only Derek does, as he helped him disappear, and we promised him we'd keep it a secret."

She leans back in her chair, resting her hand on her chest in relief. I can't help the wave of jealousy, especially knowing the feelings the man had for her.

"When I told you I didn't need you to cause your father to fall, it was the truth. We saved Jeremy, and he told us everything we wanted to know in exchange for a new life and a promise to keep you safe."

The small smile on her face aggravates me, but I smother the caveman in me quickly. It's not warranted, especially not now.

"Is he okay?"

"As far as I know, he is." I take a little piece of lasagna, inviting her to do the same. "I was not sure at the time why your father wanted to kill him," I continue, "but he gave me everything I wanted. Maybe being in your orbit made things come faster, but I can swear to you that you have no real play in the great scheme of things. The end would always have been the same."

"Why the boat then? If you had what you needed." She touches her bare neck. "Why the bee?"

"Opportunity?" I shrug, shame coating my lungs. "I'm not proud, but I wanted more from your father, always more. Having an ear in his office was too good to pass out, but I regretted it almost as soon as I did it. Well, not wanting to spy on him but making you an accessory. As for the necklace, it was more peace of mind for me—making sure you were okay. That's all I want, Ophelia. For you to be safe."

She gives me a little smile, and when I reach for her hand and rest my fingers on top of hers, she doesn't remove it this time.

"Jeremy finally told me, when he realized the depth of my feelings for you, why he was being killed that night—it's because they found out he was going to help you escape." I let out a little humorless laugh. "It's quite ironic how it came full circle—how my love for you and my desire to set you free became ultimately more important than my fifteen-year mission to destroy your father."

She remains silent, but she turns her hand around, catching mine, and I'm not ashamed to admit that it is enough to make my heart ache in my chest.

"I'm sorry for realizing only too late that you were more important than my revenge. I'm sorry for getting you tied up with me when it's probably the last thing you wanted, and I'm sorry for causing you pain. It's something I will repent for until the day I die. But Ophelia, sweetheart," I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss the back of it, "I don't regret entering your life, getting to know you, getting to love you, and seeing what it's like to be loved by you. I can't and won't." I take a shaky breath. "I never thought I would love again, let alone commit my life to a person, but now I can't imagine a version where I don't love you, where I don't have you, where I don't build a future with you. You are my life, truly, and even if you still want me to free you—if you accept whatever Lucchese is offering—I will still be here loving you because there is no alternative for me, and I don't want one."

She swallows, and her hold on my hand tightens. "Let's not make any rash decisions just yet."

It's not really the declaration of love I would have loved to hear, but it's better than nothing. She doesn't want to escape me— us —and that's a win.

We eat a little while in silence, and despite how much I want to be there with her, the sleepless nights and jet lag get the best of me, and I muffle a yawn.

"Go to bed, Javi. You're tired," she says gently, and I love to hear the care in her voice instead of the spite.

I look up and shake my head. "No, it's okay. I'll make myself a double—quadruple—espresso. I'll be fine. I don't want this evening to end."

Her smile is gentle, and my heart squeezes in my chest again. It does that a lot around her, to the point I'm now wondering if it's not an actual medical condition.

"Javi," she says softly, "we have time. I'm not going anywhere tonight. Go rest. We can talk more tomorrow."

I hesitate, wanting to stay awake and savor every moment with her, but the exhaustion is overwhelming. "Okay," I finally agree, standing up slowly. "But I'll be up early to make you breakfast."

She laughs lightly, a sound that fills me with warmth. "I'll hold you to that."

I lean down to kiss her cheek. The contact sends another wave of tingles through me, making it hard to pull away.

Before I can fully step back, she places a hand on my cheek, gently guiding my face back to hers. Her eyes lock onto mine, and for a heartbeat, time stands still. Then she leans in and presses her lips to mine. The kiss starts soft and sweet but quickly deepens as she parts her lips slightly, her tongue brushing against mine in a tantalizing caress.

My heart races as I respond, pulling her closer, savoring the heat and intensity of the kiss. Her fingers tangle in my hair, and a soft sigh escapes her, making my pulse quicken even more. The world fades away, leaving just the two of us and the electric connection between our lips .

When she finally pulls away, her eyes are dark with desire, and her breath comes in soft pants. "Good night, Javi," she whispers again, her voice husky and filled with unspoken promises.

"Good night, sweetheart," I say, my voice thick with emotion.

As I make my way to my bedroom, the sensation of her kiss still burns on my lips. For the first time in a long while, I feel a fragile sense of peace. She's staying, and for tonight, that's enough.

I close my eyes, a smile on my lips, and let sleep claim me, knowing that tomorrow brings new hope and another chance to show Ophelia that we are meant to be.