CIRO
The car pulledup to the mansion and my family rushed out the door like a bunch of K-Pop groupies, eager to see their favorite stars. Except for the celebrity of the hour was Miss Penelope Giovanna Martin, not seven Korean hotties as my secretary Millie called the members of BTS.
Martin twisted inside my mind. My daughter was a Remotti. If Isla wouldn’t agree to change her last name to Remotti, I would accept Martin hyphen Remotti. But I wouldn’t worry about that now.
“Oh, my goodness, let me see this sweet little girl.” Rosa gingerly went down the steps with Wolf holding her arm, so she didn’t tumble down them.
I nodded at my brother-in-law. He showed no emotion, but I was confident he was grieving the loss of his mother, having just found out she was dead and to a lesser degree, Kira’s fate. But like most men like us, we pushed our emotions down and focused on other things, so we didn’t show weakness.
“How’s Isla?” I asked Luca.
“Okay, I guess.” He studied my daughter with an admiring glint in his hazel-green eyes. “When she woke up, she had a meltdown but recovered quickly.”
“That sounds about right.” Isla was a lot tougher than I’d given her credit for her. Being fourteen years younger than me had made me treat her differently than someone my age. But she’d proven herself to be strong and mature, raising our daughter alone.
“She didn’t have a meltdown.” Rosa touched Pippa’s hand, smiling at her. “She reacted appropriately as any mother would who loved her child more than life itself. “You are absolutely beautiful, Principessa.”
I smiled at her calling Pippa princess in Italian. “I like that. Principessa. Isla calls her lovebug.”
“Aww, that is precious. Little lovebug.” Rosa jiggled her hand. Pippa stared at her and the others with wide eyes. Her other little hand clutched my coat collar possessively. Sort of reminded me of myself.
Padre stood at the door, waving at me to go to him.
“I know you would all love to be with Pippa, but I really should take her to her mother.”
“Yes, go.” Rosa moved aside. “I see Padre is anxious to meet his granddaughter, too.”
I went up the steps and stopped in front of my father. “Here she is, Penelope Giovanna.”
“This is what Italian perfection looks like.” He leaned in and kissed Pippa’s cheek. “Perfecta.”
“How are you feeling?” It’d only been a week since his surgery. He was recovering as quickly as I would expect a Remotti to do. Nothing and no one kept us down for long.
“I’m not even seventy yet. I’m good. Now, go take her to her mother.” He pushed me along.
“Okay. I have some business to discuss with you. Will you have time later tonight or in the morning.”
“You just got your daughter back from the Bratva and Isla under your roof, and you want to talk business.” He pfft and socked me in the shoulder. “Take care of your family. Everything else can wait.”
I chuckled and went inside. He was right, of course.
“This is your new home, Pippa.” I bounced her a little. Her curious eyes roamed the vaulted entrance and the black and white marble floor.
Some of the staff appeared to greet the newest member of the Remotti family. They made a line and quietly admired Pippa from afar.
I kissed her cheek and she cooed. On the plane ride, we’d gotten reacquainted with each other. As Zotov had said, Pippa was in perfect condition. I couldn’t tell if she’d been traumatized, but I would expect some trauma after not being with people she knew, like her mother and Alba. And for that, I was grieved for what she’d gone through.
When we arrived on the second floor, Jon appeared.
“Glad you made it back. She’s doing well.” He nodded toward Isla’s suite. “And how is this little girl? Would you like me to examine her?” He accessed Pippa.
“Maybe after she sees her mother. Isla can decide after that.”
“Sure thing.” He went to open the door. “Alba is with her.”
“Good.” I inhaled a deep breath and stepped one foot into Isla’s room.
“Oh my God. Bring her to me.” Isla extended her hands out, wincing in pain and tears flowing out of her eyes. “Lovebug. My precious baby.”
