Chapter 22: Not sure if I love her

In the early next morning, a private jet took them away from the estate and into the mountains, where Santino’s private house was situated.

"Are you enjoying the scenery, My Love?" Santino’s deep voice cut through the low hum of the jet engines.

Soraya turned her head away from the clouds outside and looked across the private cabin at him. Santino was sitting in a leather seat, his jacket off, looking relaxed in a way she had never seen before.

"Hmm. But don’t call me ’my love’," she muttered angrily, resting her chin on her hand.

"I’m thinking how fast everything changes," Soraya said, her eyes searching his face. "Just yesterday there was blood on your hands, and today we are flying away like nothing happened."

Santino’s gaze darkened slightly, but he didn’t flinch. She was clearly taunting him but in a soft manner. "You should not think about what happened yesterday. It’s a new day, so enjoy yourself."

Soraya didn’t answer. Instead, she wandered her eyes around.

To be honest, the whole thing felt strange to her. Before Santino came into her life, flying always meant sitting in economy class. She remembered squishing into tiny seats with no legroom, surrounded by loud crowds while holding a small paper cup of coffee.

Here, the soft leather seats were nicer than any couch she had ever sat on. The cabin was quiet and smelled like fresh flowers. It was a reminder of how rich and powerful he really was, a world she still couldn’t wrap her head around.

When the jet stopped on the private runway, the freezing mountain air hit them as soon as the doors opened. A black SUV was waiting for them. Santino held out his hand to help her down the steps. This time, Soraya didn’t reject him or pull away and took it. His hand felt warm against her cold skin.

They drove up winding roads surrounded by tall pine trees. Snow covered the ground, getting thicker the higher they went. Finally, the car stopped in front of a big house made of stone and dark wood. It stood right on the edge of a cliff, looking down at the snowy valley.

Inside, the house was warm and peaceful. A large stone fireplace crackled in the living room, casting a soft orange light across the room.

Soraya walked straight toward the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, looking out at the endless stretch of trees and mountains. The tranqulity was almost shocking after everything she had been through at the estate.

"Do you like it?" Santino asked, stepping up behind her.

He had already changed out of his formal clothes and wore a simple black sweater and dark pants. Without his usual suits, he looked younger, less like a terrifying mafia king and more like an ordinary man.

"It’s beautiful," Soraya admitted, crossing her arms across her chest. "I’ve never been to such a place in my entire life."

Santino smiled, seeing she liked what he had prepared. "I come here when I need to get away from everything," he said softly. He didn’t push her or try to touch her. He stood beside her, looking out at the cloud-filled sky. "There are no guards inside the house, or any scheming people around us. It’s just us."

Soraya looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Her life had been full of so many ups and downs these days and this place was giving her a strange peace, so she could resonate with Santino’s feeling.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, glancing down at her.

"A little," she murmured as her stomach growled right that moment, making the tip of her ears turn red.

She wanted to hide it, but it was too late, Santino had already noticed it. He smiled and went to cook himself instead of calling a chef or ordering staff around, Santino walked straight into the open kitchen.

Soraya watched in pure shock as he pulled out fresh vegetables, meat, and pots. "You cook?" she asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed.

"Only when I’m here," Santino said, a faint smile touching his lips. He picked up a knife and began chopping vegetables. "My mother taught me when I was young before everything changed."

It was the first time he had ever brought up his past or his mother. Soraya stayed silent, watching him. But then no communication ever established between them. The dangerous edge he carried everywhere else seemed completely gone in this kitchen.

"You must have loved her so much," Soraya asked softly before she could stop herself.

Santino paused for a brief second, his dark eyes getting deeper. "I’m not sure if I love her. Don’t all the children love their mother?"

He looked up at Soraya, his gaze holding hers for a long moment before he went back to cooking, making her confuse by his answer.

’What was that suppose to mean?’ She wanted to ask but refrained herself.

When dinner was ready, they sat at a small wooden table near the fire. The food was simple, just some roasted meat and vegetables, but the flavor caught Soraya completely off guard.

She took a bite and froze, her eyes widening in genuine shock. She looked from her plate up to Santino, who was watching her reaction with a quiet, amused look.

"What?" he asked, taking a sip of his water. "Is it that bad?"

"No," Soraya gasped, swallowing hard as she looked at her fork in disbelief. "It’s... really amazing. Honestly, it’s way better than anything I’ve ever cooked."

Santino let out a soft laugh, leaning back in his chair. "Is it really that hard to believe I can make a good meal?"

"Yes!" Soraya admitted, pointing her fork at him. "You’re a mafia king. I expected you to burn the food, not cook like a chef."

They talked like normal people for the first time since they met.

After finishing her plate, Soraya opened the glass doors and stepped onto the balcony. The night air hit her, making her shiver right away, but the view of the stars over the valley was too pretty to leave.

A moment later, a thick blanket was wrapped around her shoulders from behind.

Santino pulled it snug around her, stepping up close until his chest pressed against her back. He wrapped his arms around her over the blanket, blocking the wind.

Soraya was startled but didn’t move away.

"You’ll freeze out here, wild cat," Santino murmured near her ear.

"Stop calling me that," Soraya glared at him, hitting him with her elbow. "I haven’t felt this calm in a long time."

Santino rested his chin on top of her head. "Then we can stay as long as you want."

Soraya turned around in his arms to look up at him. In the moonlight, his dark eyes looked softer than ever. The anger and fear that had filled her mind for days faded a little.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked curiously.

Santino raised his hand and ran his thumb along her jaw. His skin was warm against her cold cheek.

"Because you’re my wife, Sora," he said softly. "And because seeing you look at me without hate is all I want." He added and slowly leaned down, giving her time to step back. When she stayed still, he kissed her.