She might tell Dez…but he was betting she wouldn’t tell Mano.

Beatrice only blinked at him. “I don’t—you want me to tell them?”

“Do you love them?” She didn’t answer, so he shrugged. “It’s up to you, but you can’t continue to live with these secrets. It’s going to make you sick. It’s already making you angry.”

“No.” She strode toward him, pointing a finger at his chest. “You made me angry. When you told Mano about us. It’s none of his business.”

“Why were you hiding it?”

“To protect you!”

“I didn’t ask you to do that. I didn’t ask you to protect me.” He stepped closer and they circled each other under the oak trees.

“And I didn’t ask you to protect me, but you did. Why the hell did you hire someone to live next to me all these years?” Her face was red and furious, but he could see the tears filling her eyes. “What was the point? Did he tell you when guys stayed over? Did he tell you when I flirted with him myself?”

His fists clenched, but he forced himself to remain calm. “It didn’t matter, I don’t care about that. I care about you.” He approached cautiously, as if walking too quickly might scare her off. “You deserved a life. A normal life without me, so you knew—”

“I didn’t want a life without you!” she exploded, tears finally falling down her face. “Don’t you get that? Are you that dense? Don’t you realize I was in love with you?”

His heart ached. “Beatrice—”

“Five hundred years and you couldn’t tell?”

He walked toward her, desperate to take her in his arms, but she stepped back, dashing the tears from her eyes. “Tesoro—”

“Why didn’t you come?” she sobbed. “Why? I waited for years! I never loved a man the way I loved you. I’ve never loved anyone that way. I never wanted anyone that way.”

For the first time in his immortal life, he felt as if his heart could bleed from another’s pain. Giovanni could only whisper, “I know.”

He stepped within arm’s distance and put a single hand on her cheek, which was flushed and wet with tears. In that moment, Beatrice didn’t look like a confident woman of twenty-eight; she looked like the girl he had forced himself to leave.

“So why, Gio? If you knew, why? Don’t you realize I would have done anything for you? I would have run away with you.”

“Beatrice—”

“Didn't you know?” She slapped his hand away, and her voice rose. “I would have left my family behind. I would have begged Carwyn to turn me so I could stay with you forever! Why?”

“That’s why!” he yelled, grabbing onto her shoulders. “Don’t you see, Beatrice? That’s why I couldn’t come to you!”

Giovanni dragged her to his chest, and their mouths crashed together. He wrapped his arms around her, his fingers gripping her back. He breathed her in, desperate to get closer, to take away the ache of her loss.

After a few moments, he backed away so she could draw breath, but his hands reached up to frame her face.

“Don’t you see?” he pleaded. “I couldn’t have denied you anything. I would have given you anything you wanted! You might have hated me in a hundred years, but if you had asked me, I would have done it.” He leaned down and kissed along her eyelids, threading his hands through her hair as he pulled her into a more gentle kiss.

“Don’t you realize how I adore you?” he whispered against her mouth. “But I couldn’t steal the life of a girl when I wanted a woman’s love. I wanted you to have a choice, not an infatuation.”

“So damn arrogant,” she whispered, clutching the collar of his shirt.

“I know,” he said, as his mouth brushed over her skin, touching the face that had haunted his waking dreams.

“I loved you. It wasn’t an infatuation.”

He pressed his cheek to hers and whispered in her ear. “Then I will earn the woman’s love, if I have lost the girl’s.”

Giovanni drew her into another kiss, and her arms reached around his waist as she kissed him back. He didn’t know how long they embraced in the darkness, but he groaned when he felt Beatrice reach up to his chest and slowly push him back.

“I can’t do this. It’s not right.”

“Yes, it is right. You know it is.”

She shook her head. “What do you want from me, Gio?”

He blinked in surprise. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Five years ago, I would have said yes. Not now.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine, let me make it clear.” He reached up to hold her face between his hands and look into her eyes. “I love you, Beatrice De Novo. I fell in love with the girl I met six years ago, and I love the woman in front of me even more.”

“Gio—”

“So you make the decision, tesoro mio.” He murmured and his thumbs stroked the soft swell of her cheeks. “It’s your choice. I want eternity with you, and I’m not leaving again.” He gave her a sad smile. “You can’t make me.”

A storm raged in her eyes. Giovanni wanted to kiss her again, but he knew it wasn’t welcome. Her tentative hand reached up and stroked his cheek; he leaned into it, a low hum of satisfaction rumbling from his chest, until they were interrupted by the ringing of her mobile phone.