Matteo wipes at his eyes, trying to compose himself. “They’ve been asking for you every day,” he says quietly. “Especially at bedtime. They keep looking for you to come read them stories.”
“I’ll read to them tonight,” Bianca says without hesitation before looking at Bella. “If that’s okay. I don’t want to intrude.”
“Of course it’s okay,” Bella says, settling back onto the couch and patting the spot near her so Bianca can sit. “You’re always welcome here, Bianca. This is your home too.”
Home.
Not just a physical place, but belonging, acceptance, unconditional love.
I can see it hit Bianca hard—the realization that despite everything that’s happened, despite the cruel things she said, this family still wants her.
Still loves her.
As I watch Bianca sit on the floor with the twins crawling all over her, their delighted laughter filling the room, I realize that this moment is more important than the formal reconciliation between her and Matteo.
This is about remembering that she’s not just Giuseppe’s daughter or even Matteo’s daughter—she’s also Arianna and Giovanni’s big sister, Bella’s stepdaughter, part of a family that exists beyond bloodlines and betrayals.
This is the foundation she needs.
Not to become less dangerous, but to remember what she’s protecting when she embraces that darkness.
And watching her face as she holds those children, seeing the pure love and fierce protectiveness in her expression, I know that whatever she becomes, she’ll never forget this moment.
She’ll never forget what home feels like.
19
BIANCA
“I still don’t know what to call him.”
Alessandro looks up from his tablet, one dark eyebrow raised in that way that always makes my stomach do this stupid little flip.
We’re having breakfast in my penthouse—well,I’mhaving breakfast.
He’s drinking coffee and reading financial reports like the responsible adult he is while I mash fruit into a pulpy mess on my plate and obsess over stupid things.
“What do you mean?” He eyes my decimated pineapple. “Are you done pulverizing that poor fruit?”
“No.” I stick out my tongue but then sigh. “Matteo. I can’t keep calling him ‘Matteo’ forever, right? It sounds so formal and weird. But I can’t go back to calling him ‘Dad’ either.” I take a bite of toast, thinking. “Maybe I could just say ‘hey you’ and point whenever I need his attention.”
Alessandro snorts, setting down the table carefully.
His hair is still messy from sleep, and he’s wearing pajama pants and a white t-shirt that shows off his arms.
God, even when he’s being sarcastic, he’s gorgeous.
I could melt into a puddle of goo right now.
“Yes, I’m sure a woman positioning herself to inherit a criminal empire will command tremendous respect by addressing the current don with ‘hey you.’” His voice is dry as dust. “Very intimidating. The other families will be terrified.”
“Shut up,” I laugh, grabbing the throw pillow from beside me and hurling it at his head. “You’re supposed to be supportive of my emotional growth.”
He catches the pillow easily, his reflexes too good for my amateur throwing skills. “Iambeing supportive. I’m preventing you from making a fool of yourself in front of people who could have us killed.”
“You love me anyway.” I steal a piece of his bacon.
“Unfortunately.” But he’s smiling when he says it—woof, there goes my heart again—and when he reaches over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers linger against my cheek longer than necessary.
