But seeing him with the triplets yesterday, teaching them Italian, making them laugh, has brought uncertainty and guilt.
How much longer can I keep this secret?
How much longer should I?
Yes, Aldo is gone, but his loyal men are still here, still looking at Luca as if he’s the enemy. Still putting my children in the crosshairs of a family war.
As I reach the kitchen, I stop short when I see Luca in his slacks, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging loose to expose his broad, firm chest. He stands at my counter like he belongs, putting a pod into the coffee maker.
"You're still here," I blurt out, immediately regretting how surprised I sound.
He turns, one eyebrow raised. "Did you think I'd sneak out before dawn like some teenager?"
"I wouldn't have blamed you."
Luca presses the button to start the brewing process. “This is sacrilege, you know. What self-respecting Italian drinks this? Don’t you have a moka pot?” He references the metal espresso coffee pot.
“I have three kids. I don’t have time for anything but pods.”
He smirks as he takes the mug and slides it to me. "No milk, no sugar.”
“You remember.”
“I remember everything about you, Elena.” His gaze holds mine for a moment before he returns to the coffee maker, putting in another pod.
I look down into my coffee, wishing I could fix our past and we could have the life he said he’d been planning for us.
When his coffee finishes, he takes a sip and grimaces. "This is basically tar. How do you drink this every morning?"
"It keeps me alert for chasing three six-year-olds."
"I'd need something stronger." His smile fades slightly. "They're good kids, Elena."
The compliment warms me even as it ratchets up the guilt. "They are."
Luca sets his mug down and crosses the small space between us. His hands find my waist, drawing me against him.
"I missed waking up with you," he murmurs against my hair.
I should pull away. I should maintain distance. Instead, I let myself lean into him, breathing in his scent. "You were always like this. Romantic even in the morning."
"Only with you."
The intimacy of the moment threatens to undo me. This is what I've missed.
Not just the physical connection, but this easy affection most men in our world never show.
Dom, the soldiers, they're all hard edges and cold calculations. Luca has always been different.
It’s why I broke the rules and gave myself to him.
But then it all went to hell. The thought crashes through me, and I stiffen in his embrace.
I reluctantly step back from him, my hands pushing gently against his chest. The loss of his warmth leaves me momentarily unsteady.
"I should make some breakfast," I say, turning toward the refrigerator. "I have eggs, maybe some bacon." It's a flimsy excuse to create distance, but I need space to breathe, to think clearly without his warmth clouding my judgment. His presence in my kitchen feels right, like something I could get used to again. But I can’t.
"Don't go to any trouble," Luca says, leaning against the counter as I pull ingredients from the fridge. "I actually have brunch plans with my dad and Gabriella and Marco."
