Page 127
I close my eyes and dream of a little girl with her father’s eyes.
Chapter 38
Marco
Ten weeks after I faced my past at the abandoned hospital, we’re in Italy.
It took that long to get here. The whole famiglia went through a serious debrief. We all had to give police statements and root out Bruno’s moles. Enzo’s lawyers negotiated federal cooperation with impressive speed. And throughout all of it, Lucia slept, sometimes fourteen hours at a stretch, while her body recovered from the ordeal.
The Amalfi Coast villa rises out of the morning mist like a painting left to age in the sun.
White walls have been weathered by salt and time. Blue shutters fade to the color of a summer sky. A terrace hangs over the sea as if the architects wanted to lean out and touch the water.
I linger by the window, watching the sun bleed gold across the waves, and I smile. This is a life I never thought I’d have.
Lucia’s still sleeping, her body curved around the pillow and her hand resting on the small but definite bulge of her belly. She’s been extra tired these past weeks—both the pregnancy and the trauma finally catching up with her—and this trip is the first time either of us has stopped moving since the renovation began at the community center. There have been blueprints, contractors, and endless decisions about floor plans and equipment orders. For once, neither of us cares.
As she rests, I watch her breath stir the fine hairs at her temple and her fingers clutch the sheets. She’s beautiful, made even more so by the way morning light paints her skin in shades of amber and cream.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand with a photo from Enzo. Valentina is asleep on his chest, one tiny fist around his finger. A single line of text pops up below.
Your turn soon, fratello.
I smile and set the phone down.
Before we left for Amalfi, Enzo and I sat in his office, but not for a briefing or a mission or a threat assessment. We were just two men drinking a bottle of expensive whiskey and sharing the kind of conversation that only happens when the wars are over and the silence finally feels safe.
He told me the famiglia would always be my home and assured me that stepping away from enforcement was simply an evolution. He said the community center was exactly the kind of legacy the Benedetti name needed. And when I told him I was terrified of becoming a father, he laughed and said the terror never goes away, only changes shape.
I peer out at the sea again, watch the light shift across the water, and let myself believe he was right.
Lucia finds me on the terrace an hour later. She’s drowning in one of my shirts that falls past her thighs. Her hair is loose around her face, and her feet are bare on the cold tile. In the morning light, she looks soft, sleepy, and youthful, and my heart turns over in my chest.
“You’re up early.” She settles beside me on the stone bench and leans into my side, her warmth seeping through my shirt. “Couldn’t sleep?”
I loop an arm around her and bring her closer, the weight of her settling against me. “I wanted to watch the sun rise and remember the light, the sea, and the way you looked when I left you sleeping.”
She tilts her face up to mine, her eyes catching the rose hue. “Anything else?”
“I wanted to savor this.” I gesture at the sea stretching out below us, the sky still pink at the edges, and the life we’ve been given. “The moment everything changed. When I stopped running and let myself have joy.”
She smiles, and I gather her into my lap until her thighs bracket my hips.
“Marco.” She breathes my name against my mouth like a prayer. “The sun’s coming up. Anyone who walks by will see us.”
“It’s a private home, so no one walks past here.” My hands settle on her hips to keep her in place. “And I’m not against showing off how much I love you or how much I want you. I’m never letting you go.”
She releases an utterly unguarded laugh. “That’s very possessive. Very mafia of you.”
“You’re just noticing?” I kiss her throat, reveling in the way her pulse jumps under my lips. “I’ve been possessive since the moment I first saw you in that ER, standing under fluorescent lights and looking at me like I was a problem to solve. I fell for you before I even knew what was happening.”
“I was mean to you.”
“You were magnificent.” I pull back to meet her eyes. “You still are, and more so every day.”
She kisses me with a deep hunger, and I lose myself in the sensation of her mouth on mine, the taste of her, and how she says my name like I matter.
We stay on the terrace, her sitting in my lap with her back against my chest. The sea breeze cools our skin while the morning sun climbs higher over the water, shifting it from pink to gold.
