Page 82 of Vicious Redemption

The limo’s waiting for us outside, along with two of Leo’s men who accompany us as bodyguards but feel more like a formality at this point. As we ride into the historic part of downtown Piovosa, I try to sit still as my excitement gets the better of me.

I haven’t been to the theater since I was a little girl, and tonight, I get to enjoy that experience again with Leo and my entire family. I can’t wait to see what my younger sisters think of it. Maria, I know, loves the theater, but this will be a first for Anna, Vienna, and Sofia.

Warmth blossoms in my chest as I think about my sisters. I’ve been spending a lot more time with them lately. They all love coming over to the Moretti estate. And though my parents have continued to keep their distance, I’m glad that they’ve agreed to join us for dinner and a musical tonight.

We pull up outside the grand opera house, and my heart skips a beat at the sight of the building’s historic beauty. The proud stone structure has rows of columns out front, offering the front doors a large covered entrance. It gives the domed structure a Roman pantheon-type feel and makes me want to go exploring.

A small part of me wishes we had insisted on picking my family up because I would love to see my sister’s faces when they see it for the first time. I’ll just have to make sure I get a full report from Maria. Besides, my father was right. I’m sure one limo would have felt too crowded.

The car pulls up to the curb, and Leo’s men slip out first to hold the door open and scan our surroundings for any unwanted visitors. But the coast is clear, and Leo steps out next before offering me a hand.

I take it, grateful for the support in my floor-length dress and heels that are becoming more and more uncomfortable to force my feet into by the day. But I’m not about to complain. If fallen arches are the worst part of having a baby, I would gladly take it. Because now that I can feel our little girl moving, I’ve reached a whole new level of smittenness. They’re only tiny flutters for now, here and gone in an instant—nothing I’ve managed to show Leo yet, but I’m trying.

Tucking my hand inside the crook of his elbow, Leo guides me up the steps to the theater, and I stare up at the ornately carved ceiling of the covered entrance.

“Tia!” someone screams, and I whirl to find little Sofia running toward me, her smile radiating warmth.

Anna and Vienna follow at a dignified pace behind her—their new display of maturity now that they’re on the verge of entering their teens. But still, they beam as they reach me, and their excited giggles overcome their attempt at dignity when I pull them in for a hug.

“Are you ready for a fun night?” I ask, giving each a good squeeze.

“They haven’t stopped talking about it all day,” Maria says, her eyes dancing as they meet mine.

She’s matured visibly in the months since I left home, and I love to see the oldest of my younger sisters coming into her own.

“You look beautiful,” I say, gesturing to her velvet dress that makes her look old enough to be my twin.

She laughs. “Thanks. Mother let me borrow one of hers.”

“Where is she?” I ask, glancing behind Maria and not finding her or my father.

“They both went inside to get our table, but the girls and I weren’t done looking at the ceiling.”

I can tell from her indulgent tone that it was mostly the girls who hadn’t had enough.

“Tia, what about my dress?” Sofia insists with a pouty lip, and she spins for me to ensure I can see it from every angle.

“Very pretty,” I say affectionately. “You all look lovely tonight,” I add, giving Anna and Vienna’s hands a squeeze.

“Shall we head inside?” Leo suggests, gesturing toward the towering French doors.

Studded with Andalusian doornails, they look almost like the doors to a castle, and they remain propped open to allow guests to come and go as they please.

It doesn’t take much for Leo to persuade the girls. After they all have spent some time with him, I’ve come to the realization that he’s something of a Pied Piper—a talent that will come in handy with our own children, I’m sure. But what I love most about watching Leo with my sisters is realizing he has a gentleness with children that I don’t often get to see.

It’s that same soft-spoken tenderness with which he speaks to my belly in the early hours of the morning. A voice saved specially for the sweet, innocent children who put their trust in Leo without question.

And he loves them as much as they love him. It’s a thing of beauty, really, considering the relationship I witnessed him have with his father. I wonder how kind and loving his mother must have been for Leo to have such a tender way with children.

Whatever the reason, it warms my heart to see it—and the thrill of knowing he’s the father of my child never diminishes.

“There they are,” I say, spotting my parents at a round table in the center of the dining room that fills the lobby of the opera house.

They wave, and Sofia releases Leo’s hand to race ahead as our fearless leader.

Rising as we approach the table, my mother walks around to hug me as Leo extends a hand to shake my father’s.

“Wonderful to see you both. Tia, you’re looking well,” Mother observes, her eyes scanning down my frame to linger on my belly.

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