Marco moved his hand to her face, his thumb softly brushing her cheek. "I realized something today, Eimi. I am a selfish man. When I see you smile, I want that smile to be for me. When you laugh, I want to be the reason for it. I don't want to share you with the world. I just want you to stay with me, here, forever."
Eimi felt her breath catch in her throat. The "Ice King" was melting right in front of her.
"Marco..." she whispered.
"No, let me finish," he said, his eyes searching hers. "This was supposed to be a contract. It was supposed to be business. But I don't care about the papers anymore. I don't care about the rules. I love you, Eimi. I truly, deeply love you. Not as a partner, not as a 'Moretti wife,' but as the woman who changed my life."
The room was silent, but it was a beautiful silence. The weight of the lies and the jealousy was finally gone.
"I don't want a year," Marco whispered, leaning down until their foreheads touched. "I want a lifetime. I want to wake up next to you every morning and know that you are mine, and I am yours. Please, stay with me. Not because of a contract, but because you want to."
Eimi felt a tear of happiness run down her cheek. She reached up and touched his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart. "I'm not going anywhere, Marco. I love you too."
Marco didn't wait. He pulled her into a deep kiss that felt like a promise.
For the first time, Eimi woke up and didn't feel like a prisoner. Marco was already awake, watching her with a soft smile. He looked younger and happier. The "Ice King" was gone, replaced by a man who was deeply in love.
"Good morning," Marco whispered, kissing her forehead. "I have a surprise for you. We are leaving the villa today. We are going to Paris."
Eimi's eyes went wide. "Paris? But what about the company? What about your grandfather?"
Marco shook his head. "I don't care about the company today. This is our real honeymoon, Eimi. No more acting. Just you and me in the city of love."
Before their flight, Marco took Eimi to the most expensive shopping streets in Milan. He wanted to give her the world. They walked hand-in-hand, and this time, it wasn't for the cameras.
Marco watched Eimi as she tried on beautiful dresses. Every time she stepped out of the dressing room, he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. He bought her everything she liked—silk scarves, diamond earrings, and a beautiful white coat for the cool Paris weather.
They ate lunch at a small, private cafe. They laughed together, talking about their future and the books Eimi wanted to write. For a few hours, they forgot about the kidnapping, the jealousy, and the dangerous world of the Moretti family. They were just a young couple in love.
"I've never been this happy, Marco," Eimi said, holding his hand across the table.
Marco kissed her knuckles. "I will make sure you feel this way every day for the rest of your life. I promise."
Paris was everything Marco had promised. The Eiffel Tower sparkled in the night, and the streets were filled with the smell of fresh bread and flowers. For the first full day, Marco and Eimi were perfectly happy. They walked through museums, took photos by the river, and shared a romantic dinner. Marco felt like the weight of the world had finally lifted.
He thought they were safe. He thought the danger was far away in Italy.
On the second evening, they were walking through a busy street filled with shops and crowds of tourists. Eimi saw a small bookstore and smiled.
"Marco, look! I want to see if they have that book I was telling you about," Eimi said, pointing across the street.
"Go ahead, tesoro," Marco said, checking his watch. "I need to take this quick work call. I'll stand right here by the fountain. I won't move."
Eimi nodded and ran across the street. Marco watched her go, a smile on his face. He answered his phone and turned his back for just two minutes to speak to his manager.
When he finished the call, he turned back around. "Eimi?"
He looked at the door of the bookstore. She wasn't there. He walked across the street and went inside. The shop was small and quiet. He looked through every aisle, but he didn't see the beautiful woman in the white coat.
"Did a young Japanese lady come in here?" Marco asked the shopkeeper in French.
The man shook his head. "No, Monsieur. No one has come in for ten minutes."