I don’t answer right away. Because the truth is dark and brutal and shaped like obsession. But I give her the lie she needs to hear.
“Yes,” I say. “Even then.”
But in my bones, I know I’ll never let her go. Not really.
53
MARA
THREE MONTHS LATER
The Folonari Christmas party is always extravagant. Gold, velvet, candles, and enough crystal to blind you if you’re standing in the wrong spot.
But tonight…everything feels different.
Maybe because this is the first time I’ve walked into this house without feeling like a trapped little girl. Maybe because I’m finally breathing again. Or maybe because Duchess is tucked into my arm like a spoiled heiress, purring like she owns the place. Which, honestly, she kind of does.
“Absolutely not,” Emiliano says the second he sees her. “The cat stays off the furniture.”
Duchess flicks her tail at him like he’s beneath her bloodline.
“Too late,” I say sweetly. “She’s already decided this is her kingdom.”
Valentina snorts from where she sits on the velvet sofa, one hand resting on her very obvious baby bump. “Leave her alone, Eli. Duchess is harmless.”
“She scratched Matteo last time,” he mutters.
“She smelled weakness,” I correct.
Valentina laughs, glowing in that annoyingly beautiful pregnant way. She waves me over, and I sink beside her. Duchess immediately climbs onto Valentina’s lap like she’s checking on the baby personally.
“Hi, little bean,” I whisper, brushing Valentina’s bump. “Your aunt is very excited to meet you.”
Valentina’s eyes soften. “You look different, Mara.”
I freeze for a moment. “Different how?”
“Happier.” Her smile tilts knowingly. “And a little terrified, which I fully understand.”
I look away, pretending to be fascinated by the three-tier charcuterie board across the room shaped like a heart. Eli’s touch for Valentina—because of course he’d have the caterers make a charcuterie board shaped like a heart and pretend he had nothing to do with it.
My thoughts drift off to my husband, who has been MIA this evening. I take a slow breath and smooth the silk of my dress, a nervous habit I may never break.
Alessia drops onto the armrest beside me. “If Duchess rips open one of these antique pillows, I’m blaming you.”
Duchess meows at her, deeply offended.
Alessia raises both hands. “Okay, okay, Queen Duchess.”
The room is warm and golden. My family is here. My sister-in-law is pregnant. There’s music, quiet and expensive. And for the first time, everything feels…safe.
Then I feel him. Before I see him. It’s ridiculous, honestly, how my body recognizes him like a shift in gravity.
I glance toward the doorway, and there he is. Black suit. Open collar. Hair slightly tousled like he ran a hand through it too many times.
His eyes find me instantly. Hungry. Careful. Like I’m the air he breathes. And God help me, my heart doesn’t just flip. Itfalls. He walks with slow, deliberate steps—nodding toward my brothers, Romiro, and Dominico, but never looking away from me.
Duchess meows, hopping off Valentina’s lap and trotting toward him like he’s her long-lost lover. Traitor.
