Obsidian Heart

the ghost of his mouth on hers and a profound sense of disorientation. She needed to anchor herself, to find a witness to the absurd reality of her life.She found her unlikely confi

, but because he loved what the power protected.""And what does that have to do with me?" Eliza asked, frustrated."You," Sofia said, finally looking up with an intense seriousness that brooked no argument, "are the one thing he chose to lose, believing he was protecting you from the darkness. You were the only thing he ever let go. Your return is not a coincidence for him. It is a sign. It means the protection failed, and now he must correct the mistake.""Correct it by taking my freedom?""Correct it by putting you where he can see you," Sofia countered gently. "He is not in love with a memory, Signorina. He is in love with you. And the men he sees you with-the critics, the collectors, the rivals-they are not good men. They are all sharks, just like him, only less honest. Rocco is the devil you know. And unlike all the others, he will never let you drown."The quiet conviction in Sofia's voice shook Eliza. It was the first time anyone had spoken of Rocco with such simple, unwavering loyalty and understanding."He kissed me last night," Eliza admitted, her voice low. "It was not gentle. It felt like a punishment."Sofia's lips twitched slightly. "Rocco is a complex man. When a man like Rocco shows you his heart, he shows you a scarred, dark thing. He doesn't know how to be vulnerable, only how to be dominant. The kiss was his confession. It was him saying: I have failed to forget you, and now we both pay the price.""How do I survive this, Sofia? I can't live in this cage, but I can't leave either, not now. He made it impossible."Sofia walked to the pantry and returned with a small, worn leather book. "Survival, Signorina, is a slow burn. Look at this."She opened the book. It was an old-fashioned ledger, filled with neat, cursive handwriting: recipes."The greatest power in this house is not the vault in the basement, or the names on the contracts," Sofia whispered, pointing to a recipe for Sunday Sauce. "It is the kitchen. It is the family meal. When Rocco is sitting at the table, eating, he is not the Boss. He is the boy I raised. He is human.""And you want me to cook for him?" Eliza asked skeptically."I want you to challenge him in a space he thinks he controls," Sofia clarified. "His men respec