Two gunshots. Two gunshots is all it took to make my heart stop in pure worry.

When Amélie and I walked to the end of the aisle, who do we see? Francois Beaumont A.K.A: Bitch boy Beaumont, with a gun in his hand ready to shoot me. Luckily, Marc, Amélie's second-in-command had seen that her father had come in and shot Francois in the arm making him drop his weapon - so that's one gunshot. The second gunshot was some kid named Pierre apparently, who's new and had been asking way to many questions for a newbie, he was aiming to shoot me but then Amélie done something I'll keep in my heart for forever. She jumped in front of me, taking a bullet to the side of her torso.

When I tell you, my heart dropped. I think I genuinely died and revived just to help her. She took a fucking bullet for me and on top of that, yesterday, she handled my PTSD episode like a natural, like she cared about me. I owe her so much, I cannot even fathom how she hasn't made me get on my knees and beg her for mercy.

Which leads us to now. Amélie and I, sitting in a hospital room after I just threatened the nurse to send the discharge forms to the room, just because Amélie asked me to with her doe eyes in tow.

The nurse that just cleaned Amélie's side up walks in with the discharge papers, and unhappy look on her face "Here are your papers. I wouldn't recommend anything other than bed rest and painkillers for the next 2-3 days since it was only a scrape." I let out a dissatisfied grunt because of her brief overview.

"Okay, thank you." Amélie says politely, giving the nurse a small smile.

I quickly sign the papers and leave them on the bed and walk up to Amélie, holding her precious face in my hands "Are you okay baby? Tell me how you feel so I can help." I say to her leaving 3 soft kisses to her temple.

"I'm okay Rome, don't worry about me." She says, relaxing her head in the palm of my hand, whilst my thumb rubs her cheekbone back and forth.

"Don't lie to me mia belleza. If you're in pain, you'll tell me. Right?" I ask, to which she nods. "Don't you dare think about doing something like that again. I don't care what happens to me, but don't you dare step in front of a gun for me. I don't deserve you and I definitely don't deserve your kindness." I tell her sternly.

I drop my hands from her face and curl my arms under her knees and around her back, carrying my wife, bridal style, careful not to hurt her lightly wounded area.

She cuddles up to me, putting her face in the crook of my neck and wrapping her arms around my neck. She leaves 3 perfect kisses on my neck, making my insides feel fuzzy. Am I ill? That's an unusual feeling.

Just as we get outside, the boys, Liyana and Amara are all waiting outside by my car. As soon as they see us, they rush towards us and bombard Amélie with questions and hugs. As soon as I hear a quiet wince from mia belleza I raise my voice and say through gritted teeth "You guys better back the fuck away from my wife before I kill you guys."

They all instantly back away, and Amélie softly says "it's okay Rome, I'm okay guys, don't worry, he's just being dramatic."

I walk up to the SUV and gently place mia belleza in the passenger seat and do her seatbelt for her, leaving 3 tender kisses in her hair whilst everyone else filed into the SUV.

Then, I make my way to the drivers seat. "So, I think now would be a good time to tell you guys that we're all going to The Bahamas, Christos and Matteo included. I've got my men to pack everyone's bags already."

Everyone bursts out into chatter in the back of the SUV whilst I'm driving, but Amélie stays quiet. I look over to her and find her staring out of the window. I choose to ignore it for now and ask her if she's okay later.

Soon after, we make it to my private plane and everyone eagerly hops onto the plane, whilst Amélie and I hang back for a bit, taking our time.

"Rome, I'm kind of tired and a bit uncomfortable in my wedding dress. Can you please ask one of our men to get me a change of clothes, nicely." She warns in a stern tone.

Our men. Hmm. I like the sound of that.

"Of course amore [love]." I nod, calling for one of my men.

When we get on the plane, I carry Amélie to the master bedroom in my jet and sit her down on the bed whilst I retrieve the hand luggage my men just brought up. I pass her a change of clothes and she walks into the bathroom to change as I change in the bedroom.

"Rome!" Amélie shouts for me from the bathroom.

"Yes baby!" I shout back.

"Can you come help me please?" She asks.

I get up from the bed and make my way to the bathroom door way, reaching my arms up to hold onto the top of the doorframe stretching out my body, noticing how intently Amélie is staring at my shirtless torso. "Hey Mél, what do you need help with?"

"Getting un-ready." When I give her a confused look, she expands "can you unbutton my dress please?" She asks innocently, looking absolutely beautiful with her hair out and makeup off, showing me her stunning bare face.

I just nod and walk up behind her, both of us facing the mirror. I slowly collect her beautiful hair, and sweep it over her shoulder, making her shiver. I smirk at the effect I have on her. I lift my hands and brush it slightly against her spine at the top of her dress buttons. I see goosebumps arise on her skin as I begin unbuttoning the dress as todays events replay in my head. She took a bullet for me.

"I'm sorry for my father ruining our wedding day Rome." She suddenly says.

I pause what I'm doing and lift my eyes to meet hers in the mirror. She quickly averts her gaze and I let out a disgruntled growl "look at me" I demand, to which she refuses "look at me baby. Look at me and tell me that I can stay mad at you for longer than 0.2 seconds when you took a bullet for me." I tell her.

I take her soft, silky-smooth face into my large hands and rub her cheekbones, triumphant at the sight of her relaxing at my touch, letting out a relieved sigh and fluttering her eyes closed. I move my face closer to hers so that we're mere inches away from each other.

"Open those beautiful blue eyes for me baby. I want you to see that I mean what I'm saying" I tell her softly.

She opens her eyes, concern and guilt swirling in her eyes. "I really am so-." She begins.

"Don't you dare," I warn her, "listen mia belleza, it's not your fault that your fathers actions ruined something so beautiful and treasured. You cannot spend your life paying for the sins of your cruel father." I lean my forehead against hers and I speak my next words with such conviction that I hope she'll understand that they're coming from the deepest depths of my heart, "I will spend the rest of my life trying to show you that I am nothing like my heartless father. I will forever be at your mercy because I know what it feels like to loose a mother to Vincent Basilio. The bullet you took for me? I'd take 50 just to take away your pain baby. So, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve any of it."

When I finish talking, I notice that Mél's eyes have glossed over and she's looking at me with one of the most powerful emotions swirling in her eyes that I'm unable to read.

"You think I didn't deserve any of it?" She asks confusedly, and I nod to which she lets out a heaving cry of pain and agony, breaking my heart and soul "Mais mon père m'a toujours dit qu'à grosse et laide pute comme moi méritait toute cette douleur parce que je l'avais causée. [But my father always told me that at fat, ugly whore like me deserved all of this pain because I caused it.] I didn't kill my maman Rome" she says in a shaky voice "I swear to God I didn't kill my maman Rome. Please believe me." She says hurriedly, as if I'd ever accuse her of something so sinister and meticulous.

I pull her to me and hug her tight, breathing in her scent and whispering sweet nothings into her ear to calm her down. After a couple of minutes, we pull away and I can see her lips tremble as silent sobs rack through her body. She lifts her delicate hands to rest on my cheekbones whilst staring deeply into my eyes. All of a sudden, she moves her hands to the nape of my neck as tears pour out of her eyes and I try wipe them away by swiping my thumb under her eyes but my attempts are futile as they continue replacing one another. She smashes our lips together making me freeze and not kiss her back, as a result of my shock.

She pulls away, my hands dropping from her beautiful face, as an embarrassed blush heats up her cheeks "I'm sor-." She begins before I cut her off.

I grab her neck, choking her because I can see the desire flash in her eyes when I do, and kiss her fervently, feeling relieved when I feel her soft, luscious lips kiss mine back.

My stomach keeps doing that thing where it feels like a zoo in there, I asked the boys about it in our group chat and they both made fun of me for having 'butterflies'. Having 'butterflies' means that I have a nervous or excited feeling when: I talk to, talk about or even think about mia belleza. Although the boys take the piss out of me for it, I can't say I don't love the feeling.

I slightly squeeze her neck tighter and wrap my other arm around her small waist and pull her impossibly closer to me. Our kiss isn't hurried nor is it sloppy. It's meaningful, endearing and everything I've ever needed in life.

I try and further our kiss and swipe my tongue across her bottom lip, wanting access. She refuses to part her lips for me so I move my possessive hold on her waist to her ass and slap it hard and then squeeze, to which she lets out a moan, allowing me to push my tongue into her hot, wet mouth and explore it. Her tears still spill out of her fragile blue eyes which breaks my heart yet again and shreds it into pieces.

We go on like that for a couple of minutes before we need to pull away for air. We lean our foreheads against one another and breathe in and out heavily. Tears still rolling out of her eyes, I softly say "let's get you out of this beautiful dress and into something more comfortable so we can go to bed, hm?" I give her 3 tender kisses in her hair.

She nods and thanks me when I help her out of her dress and help her find some pj's. "Can I wear one of your tops to bed, please?" She says quietly, sniffling.

I walk over to my suitcase and open it up, finding one of my tops for my wife. My wife, I'm sure I'll never get over that. I grab one of my favourite black muscle tee's and tell her to raise her arms so I can put it on for her. Then when that's done, she nervously says "Rome?" My heart pounds at the nickname.

"Yes baby?" I respond, placing 3 kisses across her forehead.

"Can you plea- is it okay if- ." She stutters, unsure of how to ask her question.

"Talk to me mia belleza, I'm listening. I'm here baby." I saw whilst gripping her face in my hands.

She nods her head "Can you please plait my hair? Only if you know how to and only if you want to. You don't have to, it's just that I don't feel comfortable with my hair sprawled out when I sleep" She asks shyly in a small voice, voicing her cute ramble.

I've said this before and I'll say it again. Does she really think I'll be able to say no to her?

I don't verbally answer her, but I'm sure she understood that I'd plait her hair when I directed her to sit with her back facing me, in between my legs.

As I'm about halfway done, Mél speaks up "thank you for doing this by the way. I didn't know that you'd know how to plait hair."

I finish up and give her 3 soft kisses just under her ear and whisper against her ear "baby, I've practically been a father since I was 13. I'm sure I can handle a bit of plaiting after doing it for all 4 girls since they were younger." I say with fake sass, making Mél giggle.

A small smile reaches my face at the sound of her happiness. It's as if my heart instantly calms. "Do you wanna go to bed?" She asks, reaching out a hand for me to hold as she walks to the bed.

I walk up behind her and wrap one arm around her torso and the other, clasping around her hand, that was out for me, from behind her. I leave 3 sincere kisses in the crook of her neck and 3 on her wrist, making her lean back into me. I guide her into bed as the plane shakes a bit because of turbulence. I get in first, which apparently she's glad about because she crawls into my arms as soon as she gets into bed and I make sure that she's covered by the duvet so that she's not cold.

"Rome? Is it okay if you tell me what happened in your childhood? I can tell you what happened on the day that my maman died and what happened ever since but if you're not comfortable, that's perfectly okay. I'll understand if you say no. Okay baby?" She says, and I freeze.

I've never told a soul about the whole story of what my father put me through. Maybe Amélie is all I needed after all. Should I tell her, or not? I'm not too sure.