I send word through Enzo. The library. Tonight. All three of them.
He takes the message without comment, but something flickers in his warm brown eyes. Approval. He's been waiting for this—I can see it in the careful way he nods, the slight curve of his mouth.
"I'll make sure they're there, signorina."
"Thank you, Enzo. For everything."
He pauses at the door. "Whatever happens tonight... you've already changed them. All of them. For the better. Remember that."
I arrive at the library an hour early, too anxious to wait in my room. The fire has already been lit, Enzo's doing, I'm sure, and the flames cast dancing shadows across the walls lined with leather-bound books.
I pace the floor until my legs ache. Rehearse words that scatter like leaves every time I try to hold them.
I love all of you. I choose all of you. Please don't make me give any of you up.
My heart threatens to beat out of my chest. I press my hand against it, willing it to slow. I've faced auctions and kidnappers and my own parents' betrayal. Surely I can face this.
The door opens.
They enter together—unusual, significant. A united front, even now. Santo first, concern etched in his features, pale green eyes immediately finding mine across the room.
Matteo next, unusually quiet, amber eyes searching my face for clues about what's coming. Luca last, closing the door behind him with quiet finality.
The click of the latch sounds like a gunshot in the silence.
"You've made your decision," Luca says. Not a question.
"I have."
They wait. The silence is suffocating. I can hear the fire crackle, the clock tick, my own ragged breathing.
Santo shifts his weight. Matteo crosses his arms. Luca stands perfectly still, watching me with those steel-gray eyes that miss nothing.
"I was supposed to choose one of you. That was the arrangement. The deal we made when this all started."
I look at each of them in turn—Santo's hopeful eyes, Matteo's guarded expression, Luca's unreadable mask. "But I can't."
Matteo's jaw tightens visibly. Santo's face falls, hope crumbling into something that looks like grief. Luca goes perfectly still, not even breathing.
"Not because I don't love you," I continue quickly, the words tumbling out before I can lose my nerve. "Because I love all of you. In ways I didn't know I was capable of loving."
"Gianna—" Santo steps forward, reaching for me.
"I've spent days trying to make this decision." I hold up my hand, and he stops, pain flickering across his features. "Lists and logic and lying awake at night trying to imagine my life with just one of you."
I turn to Santo first. "You make me feel safe in ways I never knew I needed. Like I finally have somewhere to belong."
His eyes glisten. He doesn't speak.
I turn to Matteo. "You make me feel alive in ways I didn't know were possible. Like there's fire in my blood and you're the one who lit it."
His throat works as he swallows, that charming mask cracking.
I turn to Luca. "You see me—every broken piece, every fear, every secret I've tried to hide. You make me feel powerful. Like I could conquer the world."
Something shifts in his gray eyes. Something raw.
"Choosing one of you… I've thought about it," I continue, my voice stronger now.
"God, I've thought about nothing else for days—and I can't do it. I won't survive it. You've each become essential to me. Like breathing. Like my heartbeat."
"So what are you saying?" Matteo's voice is rough, strained. "That you choose no one? That you're leaving?"
"No." I meet his eyes directly. "I'm saying I choose all of you."
Dead silence.
The brothers exchange loaded looks—years of rivalry, possessiveness, competition passing between them without words.
I see Matteo's hands curl into fists at his sides. See Santo's breath catch in his throat. See something flicker across Luca's expression that I can't quite read.
"You're asking us to share," Luca says slowly, each word measured and deliberate. "What we've never shared. Not territory. Not power. Not business interests." He pauses. "A woman. The same woman."
"I'm asking you to love me the way I love you." I don't flinch. Don't back down. "All of you. Without walls. Without competition. Without someone winning and someone losing. All three of you, or none."
Another silence. Longer this time. The clock ticks. The fire pops.
My courage wavers—maybe I've asked too much, maybe this is where it all falls apart, maybe I've just destroyed the best thing that's ever happened to me…
Santo smiles.
It starts slow, spreading across his face like dawn breaking over the horizon. Wonder and relief and joy all mixed together, transforming his features.
"You beautiful, impossible woman," he breathes. "You actually found a way. A way for all of us."
Matteo laughs—not mocking, but surprised. Delighted. The sound fills the library, warm and genuine, chasing away the tension that's been suffocating us all.
"Dio mio, piccola. You really don't do anything the easy way, do you?"
He shakes his head, but he's grinning—that real grin, not the charming mask. "Most women would have just picked the handsome one and been done with it."
"You're all the handsome one," I say weakly. "That's part of the problem."
"She has a point."
"Shut up, Santo."
Luca hasn't spoken. Hasn't moved. He's watching me with those steel-gray eyes, and I can't tell what he's thinking.
He crosses to me slowly, deliberately, each step measured. When he's close enough to touch, he stops. Tips my chin up with one finger, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"You understand what you're asking," he says quietly. "The complications. The logistics. The way people will talk. Society won't understand. Other families will see it as weakness, or perversion, or something to exploit."
"I don't care about any of that."
"You should. It won't be easy. We'll have to figure out how this works—boundaries, expectations, what happens when one of us wants you and another does too. There will be jealousy. Disagreements. Moments when this arrangement feels impossible."
"Then we'll figure it out. Together. Like we've figured out everything else."
He searches my face for doubt. For hesitation. For any crack in my resolve. He finds none.
Something shifts in his expression. The iron control softens. The mask falls away. And underneath, I see the same wonder I saw in Santo's smile, the same delight I heard in Matteo's laugh.
Luca Moretti, the man who never shows weakness, looking at me like I've given him something precious.
"Then you're ours," he says quietly. "All of ours."
Santo moves to my left, his hand finding mine, fingers interlacing, warm and steady.
Matteo steps to my right, his arm sliding around my waist, pulling me close. Luca stays in front of me, his palm still cupping my jaw.
Three heartbeats surrounding my own. Three men who've somehow become my whole world.
"All of yours," I agree, and my voice doesn't shake anymore.
Santo presses a kiss to my temple, soft and reverent. Matteo's lips brush my shoulder, possessive and warm. Luca leans in, forehead touching mine, breath mingling with my own.
"We'll make this work," Luca murmurs. "Whatever it takes."
"Whatever she needs," Santo adds.
"Whatever makes her happy," Matteo finishes.