I watched him go, proud that he was all mine. Chiara stepped beside me. "Is everything okay?"
"Absolutely."
She looked me over and nodded. "Finally... the truth. I knew something was going on, but now I can see you're okay. So, what was all that about with your Nonno?"
Chapter 41
Quentin
Iheaded toward Stone—ready to discuss whatever security protocol crisis apparently couldn't wait until after my wedding reception—and there she was.
My brain stuttered. Stopped processing.
Because standing near the entrance, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else, was my sister.
Bianca.
The sister I hadn't seen in twelve years.
"Quentin?" Stone followed my gaze. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I have," I managed.
She looked different. Older, obviously. More polished. California-sleek in a designer dress that probably cost more than my first car. Her dark hair was styled in soft waves, makeup perfect, every inch the successful LA producer.
But her eyes—wary. Like she wasn’t sure she belonged here.
"Who is that?" Stone asked.
"My sister."
"Your—you have a sister?"
"Yes. Apparently, I still do."
I moved toward her, weaving through guests, tunnel vision locked on her and her alone.
Her gaze met mine, and her face lit up—relief and love, along with a touch of guardedness, all tangled up together.
"Bianca," I said, stopping a few feet away. Afraid if I got too close, she'd disappear. Vanish like she had twelve years ago.
"Hi, Quin." Her voice was soft. That California accent I'd never heard on her before. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic from the airport was—" She laughed, but it was wrong. Uncomfortable. "That's a lie. I've been sitting in a car outside for twenty minutes trying to convince myself to come in."
"You came." My voice came out rougher than intended. "I didn't think—when I called, you said you'd think about it. I didn't think you'd actually come."
"I almost didn't." She blinked a few tears from her eyes. "But I—I needed to see you, Quin. It's been twelve years since we’ve seen each other."
"I thought—" I stopped. Couldn't finish that sentence.
"I know." She blinked again and a tear spilled down her cheek. "I'm sorry. I had to leave. I couldn't be part of that world anymore. And if I stayed in contact, Dad would have used it. Would have pulled me back."
"Dad's dead."
"I know. I heard." Her voice cracked. "I wanted to come to the funeral. But I thought I wouldn't be welcome."
"You're my sister." The words hurt coming out. Twelve years of hurt. "You're always welcome. That's why I called. That's why I wanted you here."
We stared at each other. Twelve years of distance. Twelve years of barely speaking to each other.
