“Sofia’s children,” a blonde woman with an Australian accent—Georgia?—murmured softly, from Elodie’s side. Elodie hadn’t been conscious of her coming to stand close, but she was holding out an iced drink, and offered a friendly, disarming smile.
“I know it’s a lot,” she said,sotto voce,when Elodie took the drink with a smile of appreciation. “But they’re really the nicestpeople you’ll ever meet. And there are some great hiding spots around here if you ever need a breather. I’ll show you later.”
Elodie’s eyes widened at this woman’s welcoming nature—and willingness to be a kindred spirit. But that was the way the entire evening proceeded. She didn’t know if it was just because they were on their best behaviour, or if they were always like this, but the entire Santoro family seemed to exist to make her comfortable and at ease. It was a family of men, except for the absent Sofia. Though she was not related by blood, she was very clearly considered to be one of the brood, much adored by Gianni and Maria, and missed heartily at all these events. She had, however, fallen in love with the King of Moricosia, married him, produced two beautiful babes—Elodie had seen dozens of photos on Maria’s phone, throughout the night—and now only visited sparingly. Though ‘sparingly’, Portia enlightened Elodie with a soft laugh and in a gentle whisper, actually meant at least once a month, it simply wasn’t enough for Maria.
“Her family is her life,” Portia said, eyes resting appreciatively on the older woman, who was locked in conversation with two of her sons.
“How lovely,” Elodie responded, genuinely adoring that philosophy. “I always wanted a big family,” she said, then smiled a little awkwardly, hoping the other woman wouldn’t think any part of this was planned. A hand moved to her stomach protectively.
“That’s what this is,” Portia said. “And no matter what, you’ll be a part of it. Just try to get rid of us,” she winked then.
Elodie didn’t get a chance to reply. Her eyes landed, a moment later, on a woman who walked onto the terrace, holding a tiny little bundle of a baby.
“That’s Willow and Francesco’s daughter,” Portia explained, as Willow stood, a radiant smile beaming from her face, whenshe strode to meet the nanny and take her daughter into her arms. “She’s only a month old.”
Elodie couldn’t take her eyes off mother and child, and then, when Francesco joined them—Raf’s brother—something sparked inside of her. A feeling of recognition. Understanding. That wasfamily.He put his arm around Willow’s shoulders and she lifted the baby higher to kiss her forehead.
“We’ll be back soon,” she called over her shoulder, but her eyes didn’t leave her daughter’s face. She was completely and utterly mesmerized.
Elodie’s gaze shifted, of its own accord, to Raf, to find he was staring at her with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. That made her wonder if they were having exactly the same thoughts and feelings. The sense of wonderment at what they’d done: create a life together. Never mind that theirs was not a love story—it would be. With the birth of this baby, they would fall in love. Not with each other, but with the little person who was equal parts both of them—and a huge thread in the tapestry of this fascinating, multi-layered family.
Something tightened in her throat, though.
Something like panic.
A feeling of darkness, swallowing that delicious light. Like she was missing a huge part of herself. Like she was missing out on her dreams. She couldn’t quite catch the thought, to know what was troubling her, but something about that description of her future just didn’t ring true.
“You got a sec?” She glanced up to find Dante standing to her right.
Elodie glanced at Portia. She couldn’t say why, but the other woman had such an easy confidence, and natural authority, plus she seemed to so fully belong, that Elodie was finding it safest to be guided by her.
“He doesn’t bite,” Portia assured. Then, with her pale gaze shifting to Dante’s, her features tightening slightly, she added: “If he does, he’ll have me to deal with.”
Dante lifted his hands in silent acknowledgement of that and Elodie almost laughed. Portia was a diminutive woman, and yet she clearly had this strong, alpha Italian wrapped around her little finger.
“She’s worked for me for years,” Dante said with a grimace, as Elodie stood up and fell into step beside him. “But you’d think she was my mother, sometimes.”
Elodie’s lips twitched in a smile, but the further they got from the group, the more nervous she became. This one was all intimidation. Big, strong, gruff, in all the ways Raf was, she supposed, but there was a cool reserve to Dante that made her insides tremble.
They walked a few minutes in silence, towards a large formal garden that ran off to the side of the terrace. Dante plucked a sprig of rosemary and twirled it beneath his nostrils, closing his eyes for a moment.
“My wife loved it here. My first wife. She used to always clip this rosemary and massage it between her fingers, to release the fragrance.”
Elodie’s eyes flew wide.
“I was married before Georgia, to a wonderful woman named Bianca. We had a daughter, Livvie.” His voice was raw. “I lost them both in an accident. Livvie was four.” He cleared his throat, the emotion obviously still very close to the surface. “I’ve been blessed with a second chance in life, and even more so because Georgia understands the space I have in my heart for the family I lost, as well as the family I am now blessed with.”
“I’m so sorry,” Elodie said, surprised to find tears springing to her eyes.
“I mention it because I understand grief. And I have seen Raf grieving for more than two years. What that woman did to him—,” but Dante broke off here with a sharp shake of his head. “He has been through the darkest of times. Blaming himself, hating her, and then hating everyone. He has pulled away from our family when he needed us most—it’s a classic move, one I am familiar with.”
She bit into her lip, nodding slowly, but feeling a hint of guilt at having a conversation about Raf with his cousin—albeit a clearly trusted, well-meaning cousin.
“Tonight is the first time in a long time I’ve glimpsed a hint of the man I know and love. There is light in his eyes again. He seems happy.”
Elodie’s heart turned over in her chest as memories of how they’d spent the last two weeks flooded her. Discovering themselves and their chemistry at his villa in Tuscany, the tension that had simmered between them, almost to the point of being unbearable, and then, the yacht, where they’d simply found their groove. Without questioning, defining, or overanalyzing anything. It had been so…easy. And yes, he’d been happy. So had she.
A little gasp strangled in her chest. She’d beenhappy.Happy in a way she’d hadn’t understood that she wasn’t with Aaron. Happy in a way she’d never known she should seek, let alone deserved. It had been a feeling of joy to wake up each morning, excitement to face the day because Raf was a part of it. A sense that not only was she hanging on his every word, he was doing the same with her, listening with rapt attention to her stories, her thoughts, her ramblings about life.
