Page 192 of Lovely Venom

“One of these days, I’m going to figure out what you’re saying.”

“I don’t doubt that you will.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “Get some rest, baby. I’m going to take care of a few things.”

“Okay, but can you do something for me?”

“What?”

“Make them cry.”

Darkness settles in the depths of his eyes. “They’ll cry, principessa—a river of fucking tears.”

39

CHANTEL

“Can someone please say something?” I glance around the table warily.

“I’m still processing,” Valentina says. “I think I’m in shock.”

“It’s all starting to make sense,” Kenzie responds from the tablet in front of me.

I didn’t want to have this conversation multiple times, so we video-called her, Lucia, and Serafina.

“That’s how you knew Andreas, isn’t it?” Kenzie asks.

“Yes,” I answer reluctantly. “He was the one who helped me get out. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you⁠—”

“I don’t care about that.” She waves it off. “I’m just glad he did.”

I nod, and a moment of silence passes as everyone absorbs the news. I gave them the condensed version of my backstory, along with an apology for not being honest with them before. While they knew pieces of my past, they never knew who I really was. I can’t help but feel guilty for that.

“How did Angelo take it?” Abella asks, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“Well, I won’t say he was overjoyed. But he wasn’t nearly as mad as I expected.”

“He’ll just need time to get his head around it,” she says. “It has more to do with Ares than anything. Those two have always gotten on each other’s nerves.”

“I know, and I get it. Ares is…well, Ares.”

“I never thought I’d see the day that the Greeks and Italians would have an actual alliance,” Gabi says. “But it doesn’t surprise me that Cristian would go to war for you. I always suspected he was a secret romantic.”

Everyone laughs, because in our world, that is romantic.

“He really is the best.” I get a little choked up.

“Don’t cry,” Valentina pleads. “You know this doesn’t change anything, right? We all love you no matter what.”

Soft echoes of agreement follow from the others before Nonna chimes in as she appears with a tray of aperitivo.

“Don’t worry, tesoro.” She pats my cheek. “I’ll make you Italian in no time.”

I offer her a smile, knowing very well she has a long, contentious history with the Greeks. This is her way of accepting me, and it’s just classic Nonna Vitale.

“Thank you,” I tell her. “But I’m not crying because I’m Greek. I’m crying because I’m pregnant, and I guess this is just what I do now.”

A chorus of shock ripples around the table, but Nonna just beams.

“I told you my Cristian was robust. He will give you lots of babies.”