He leans his hand on the railing, gaze following Luca as the boy steals the ball and sprints toward a makeshift goal. Pride flickers across Dante’s face. It’s the same look he gets every time Luca calls himPapawithout hesitation.
“He’s fast,” Dante says. “Leo’s already trying to recruit him for the under-fourteen training squad.”
I laugh softly. “Over my dead body.”
Dante’s mouth curves. “That’s what I told him you’d say.”
We fall quiet for a moment, the only sound the distant crash of waves and the boys’ shouting. His hand finds mine on the railing. His fingers thread through mine, thumb brushing the inside of my wrist in small circles. It’s a small thing, automatic now, but it still makes my pulse skip every time.
He notices the way my other hand rests low on my stomach.
“Active today?” he asks.
I nod. “Kicking like she wants to join the game.”
He exhales a quiet laugh, then turns fully toward me. His free hand comes up, palm open, waiting. I guide it to the spot just below my navel. A second later, there’s a firm thump against his palm.
Dante’s breath catches. Every time he feels her move, it’s like the first time he’s feeling it. His eyes always widen slightly, mouth parting in surprise, and that fierce tenderness he still doesn’t quite know shows on his face is evident. He keeps his hand there, waiting for another kick, and when it comes, he smiles.
“She’s strong,” he says.
“Like her brother.” I tilt my head. “And her father.”
He looks at me then, his grey-green eyes searching mine. Before he can say anything, there’s a knock on our bedroom door. We both turn toward the sound, finding Romano standing just outside the doorway looking slightly out of breath.
“You both might want to come downstairs. There’s… a visitor waiting for you.”
Dante’s brows knit together immediately, calculation narrowing his eyes. He must be thinking the same thing I am. Who would be bold enough to come here without notifying the villa’s Don first? And who had the kind of clearance to do it without any alarms raising hell?
“Stay here,” he tells me, his hand slipping away from mine.
I grab his arm before he can get any farther than two steps. “I’m coming with you.”
“Elena—”
I fix him with a tight look. “Romano wouldn’t be inviting us downstairs if it were dangerous. Right?”
I turn my attention to Dante’s lieutenant then, giving him a pointed look. Romano meets my eyes without flinching. After a beat, he gives a solid nod, stepping back from the doorway and waving his hand toward the hall.
“It’s better if you both come.”
Dante hesitates. I can feel the tension in his arm beneath my grip with the familiar instinct to shield me warring with the knowledge that I refuse to be left behind. Finally, he exhales through his nose, a short, resigned sound, and takes my hand in his.
“Together,” he says quietly.
We follow Romano out of the bedroom and down the wide staircase, my bare feet silent on the stone floor while Dante’s boots make soft thuds beside me. The villa feels strangely still, the usual afternoon sounds of staff moving through the halls now a distant clatter.
My pulse climbs with every step.
We reach the main floor and turn down the corridor toward Dante’s study. The double doors are closed but light spills from beneath them. Romano stops just outside, his hand on the knob. “He insisted on seeing you both. Well, mainly you, Donna.”
Dante’s jaw tightens. “Who the fuck is asking for my wife specifically? And why wasn’t I notified before they were inside my house?”
Romano doesn’t answer him. Instead, he turns the handle and pushes the door open. The study is lit by a low fire in the hearthand the single lamp on Dante’s desk. Shadows stretch from the bookshelves and bathe the rug in darkness.
Before Dante can block me from entering, I slip past him and step into the study. My eyes scan the room, landing on a figure standing over by the windows. He has his back to us, both hands clasped behind him.
I blink a few times, not quite believing what I’m seeing. Because standing there in the middle of Dante’s study is someone I never thought I’d see again.
