Page 72 of Promise to Break

"Yes, the baby is fine, and so is Serena. Constanza Fierro came into this world, and she looks just like you, Cusino."

Chapter twenty-seven

Killian

Maricela looks adorable, taking her walk of shame. I've never been possessive, not with women at least, as they've come and gone to never come back again. With no one else did I ever take a second glance, except for the whore who taught me the secrets of a woman's pleasure. I know all there is to know, from the most gentle to the harshest of kinks, but I've never enjoyed sex as much as I have with her. It all comes down to her.

We both go to the nearest bathroom to make ourselves presentable. I don't think Serena will appreciate seeing her little sister with mascara smeared all over her pretty face. Thankfully, whatever marks have been left from the spanking are covered by her slacks. The look on her face as she counted for me. Fuck, this girl. My little girl.

She emerges from the bathroom and rushes to my side, where I wait for her in the corridor. "Are you ready? We need to hurry," she says, her voice shaky.

I hold out a hand for her to squeeze. "Remember, they're fine, both of them." Never in my life have I felt the need to assure someone…well, maybe my mother, but even then, it wasn't with words.

We enter the waiting area to find only Raven. It looks as if she's been crying. I will kill Liam. The moment she sees us, however, she smiles as big as she can. Maricela is right. All the Fierros are great actors. Raven is one of them. She hides so much with her kind smiles and good acting. It's like she's trying to atone for something.

"How is she?" Maricela asks, rushing to the embrace of her best friend. "Can I see her? See them? It's them now, joder."

It's always funny to hear Maricela cuss in Spanish. No one would ever guess her origins—she's all-American—until the Latina comes out to play. And it's entertaining as fuck.

"She's in her room, and everything is fine. Come, you two. Let's see Constanza first." I was surprised Santino agreed to the name Serena chose for her first child. It's the name of their late mother.

I walk behind the women, joining my mother and Raven at the nursery window. I look around, and after seeing no one else I know, I can admit I'm happy to see Julian is gone.

"Here she is." Maricela's words can only be described as aw. I don't know how she recognized her niece from all the babies in here.

"Life is a gift given to us." My mother's voice is as gentle as ever. Her Italian accent is permanent, and she doesn't try to dim it. She's proud of her heritage, no matter the circumstances.

I try to understand the woman who is my mother—not for the first time. She lives with a man who hates her for reasons I'll never grasp, and she worships the ground he walks on. I know it's not because she loves him. No, it's because she loves us, her two undeserving sons.

"How did you know that one was Constanza?" Mom asks her as quietly as possible.

"Raven said she looks like Killian, and that black hair and fair skin are just like yours and your son's."

Mom looks at Maricela, then at me. She knows. "You're right. She does look like Killian did as a baby."

This statement has me turning my gaze to the baby. My niece. It's surreal. People speak about babies as if they're little beacons of light you love just because they had the ability to come into existence. The scent of a baby, the smile, and even the cry induce you to revolve around it. Nature took care of that. Babies are cute, so everyone will love and protect them. They're pure souls, untarnished by the world.

Yet, the empath in me is dormant. Maybe Franco did finally manage to kill that part of me. I observe the others and look at the baby, waiting for something inside me to say it cares for this bundle of black hair that sleeps with her entire hand in her mouth. She is cute for a newborn. I'll give her that, but to say I love her is a stretch. To say I love anyone these days is a stretch.

"Te voy a dar el mundo, angelito peqenio." The same can't be said about Maricela. If I got the translation right, she just promised her niece the world while calling her Little Angel. I take my time studying that girl. So full of emotion, so caring, with so much self-deprecation.

My mother places a hand on my arm. "Figlio mio, per favore unisciti a me."

I blink and, as requested, follow my mother, knowing what's about to come.

I've never cared for another soul, with the exception of my mother and Raven, and the guys, of course, two people who are in a dark place because of my actions. My mom, as moms tend to do, says it's because my heart is too full of love for those people to give others a place in my beating organ. She's always seen the best in me. But if I'm honest with myself, she's the only reason I still have any connection to my humanity.

We leave Maricela and Raven in the corridor as Maricela starts to sing in Spanish. Mom smiles, and a sudden need to know what my girl is singing to the baby has my gut in a twist. It wasn't supposed to be like this, not with her.

The moment we're far enough away to have some privacy, Mom asks, "What is going on with this girl?"

I could lie to her, but I won't. I never do, not to Isabella Fierro. Besides, she would see right through me if I did. She always does. What I do is look at her bodyguard, Dario, making sure this wall of muscle can't hear us.

"I'm with her." My mother is about to chastise me—I can see it on her face.

"If the stain on your pants says anything, I can imagine just how you are with her."

"Mom," I groan, and she smiles. I'll do anything for those rare smiles.

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