Dom accepts the wine with a nod of thanks. “It’s not just the property,” he says quietly. “She feels her mother here.”
Lorenzo’s expression sobers. “It’s sad that our families ruined Lia, Milly and Amara’s lives like that.”
“It is, but I think we’re all trying to make up for it.”
Antonio Conti joins our small circle, his presence still commanding despite the casual linen shirt and slacks he wears. “Speaking of the past,” he says, voice low enough that it won’t carry to the women and children, “the situation in Milan has been contained. Permanently.”
Dom’s shoulders relax a fraction. “Good.”
I don’t ask for details. Some things are better left unspoken, even now.
The transition of power was mostly peaceful, but there are always loose ends, always those who think they can take advantage of perceived weakness. Dom may have stepped down, but his influence still lingers.
“Papa!” Aurora’s voice cuts through my thoughts as she barrels toward me, a whirlwind of dark curls and boundless energy. I scoop her up, spinning her around as she squeals in delight.
“There’s my birthday girl,” I say, kissing her forehead. “Are you excited about your party?”
“Papa’s party too,” she says seriously, looking toward Dom with those startling blue eyes—Amara’s eyes. “We have to share.”
Dom reaches out to tweak her cheek. “And you’re doing a wonderful job of sharing, principessa.”
Aurora beams at him, then wriggles to be put down. “Cake time, Papa!”
As she races back to Amara, the men around me share knowing smiles. Some may have blood on their hands, but here we’re just parents watching the children around us run free. Here, they are unburdened by the evil that has defined our lives.
Amara catches my eye from across the garden, and I see the question there. I nod, letting her know everything is fine. Better than fine. She smiles back, her hand once again resting on her belly, and I’m struck anew by how lucky we are. How, against all odds, we’ve carved out this life together.
I make my way to her, wrapping an arm around her waist as Poppy helps Aurora arrange her birthday crown—a little tiara with fake diamonds—just so.
“Happy?” I ask quietly, pressing a kiss to Amara’s temple.
“More than I ever thought possible,” she replies, leaning into me. “Though I’m still trying to figure out how to tell Aurora she’s getting not one, but two new siblings.”
I pull back slightly, searching her face. “Two?”
Amara’s smile turns mischievous. “I had an ultrasound yesterday while you and Dom were picking up Dante and the clan from the airport. Twins.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “Twins,” I repeat, the word feeling foreign to my tongue.
“Don’t look so terrified,” she laughs. “Between the three of us, we’ll manage.”
“Does Dom know?”
She shakes her head. “I thought I’d let you both know with a special birthday surprise. Everyone is going to let off a color bomb that’ll let you know the sex of the babies.”
“You already know. Tell me.”
“No, I’ve already told you too much.”
I can’t help but laugh. “He’s going to have a heart attack. Fifty years old and about to be a father to twins.”
“And you too,” she says, brushing her lips against mine. “I don’t care who the dad is. You’re both their fathers, just like with Aurora.”
My throat tightens with emotion.
As if summoned by our conversation, Dom appears at Amara’s other side, sliding his arm around her waist opposite mine.
“What are you two conspiring about?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
