Page 54 of Unspoken Ties

“We need to get rid of them, and I’d bet we’re pressed on time,” a man who I think was named Vincenzo said.

“Torch it,” Ettore responded in a voice that brooked no argument, his gaze lingering on the sprawling mansion one last time. “Burn it all.”

“Bet you guys are glad I brought the flamethrower now, huh?” said a man who was identical to the other man I didn’t know.

Flamethrower?I thought those were only in movies and video games. I watched the men in awe as they set the house ablaze in under three minutes. As I watched, flames began to lick up the sides of the grand mansion, devouring the ornate structures that had once been a symbol of sheer opulence.

Then, we quickly drove away into the darkness, all evidence of the night turned into ash.

Chapter twenty-eight

Liria

As soon as Ettore and I stepped foot inside the apartment, he wrapped his arms around me with an intensity I had never experienced before. The warmth of his body enveloped me in a comforting embrace, tinged with a hint of desperation. It was as if he thought I would disappear, or I was a grain of sand about to be lost in the desert.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble against my ear. “I couldn’t do this while we were with everyone else.”

“It’s ok,” I laughed, hugging into him harder. “Can’t let people know the big, bad Don Ettore can actually be a softie.”

“Tch,” he said, petting my hair. “It has to stay a well kept secret.” He paused, and I could feel his breath against my shoulder as he exhaled against me. “And I’m sorry I didn’t protect you and our child.”

I looked up at him, eyes wide. “Hey,” I said, pressing my palm against his chest. “It’s ok. It was just an accident; Hugo and I didn’t know there was a set of stairs there. I’m fine.” I pulled back to show him my mostly unharmed body.

“But…” he trailed off, deciding to not finish his sentence. “Howdidyou get that blood on you?”

Embarrassment flooded my cheeks, turning them a vivid shade of scarlet, as I recounted every detail of the attack on the guard. My words stumbled over each other in a hasty rush to explain my actions and justify myself.

“Heh. Good job,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I had an excellent teacher.”

Ettore’s lips quirked into a small smile at that. “I suppose you did.”

I felt the familiar flutters in my heart when I glanced at Ettore. They always seemed to appear without warning and multiply the longer we were together. He brushed a thumb against my cheek, tilting my face up to look at him. His eyes had softened into a warm honey color, and I noticed the small laugh lines at the corners of his eyes.

“I love you,” he said softly, as if the words were a delicate secret only meant for my ears.

My heart raced, the flutters in my chest intensifying and threatening to burst out of me.

“I love you too,” I replied, my voice barely more than a whisper. It felt like acknowledging it aloud somehow made it more real than the endless thoughts and feeling had.

Ettore’s hand moved to the back of my neck, anchoring me in place as he closed the distance and pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was slow and languishing, a message of love beyond words. His scent, a mixture of gunpowder and spicy cologne, filled my senses, causing me to sink deeper into the kiss. His other hand found mine, fingers intertwining to anchor me to him further.

“Now let’s get cleaned up,” he said.

Forty-five minutes later, we were both laying in bed, all blood and remnants of the night washed off of us. Ettore’s arms snaked around my waist, pulling me closer to his bare chest. His fingers traced a lazy path along my arm, the gentle strokes causing goosebumps to erupt over my skin. I sank further into his embrace, reveling in the warmth and safety he provided.

“I wish we could find out who killed my father,” I mumbled into his chest.

“We will, someday,” he replied. “Whoever did it was a professional, and it won’t be easy to find them.”

His soothing voice calmed my restless thoughts as my heart echoed the soft rhythm of his breath against my ear. His fingers moved gently through my hair, tugging at the knots from our previous encounter with a gentle precision that never failed to lull me into tranquility.

“I was thinking,” I added, somewhat nervously. “Maybe we could move into my old house? I mean, we have the baby on the way now, and probably need more space.” I continued to babble, “We could totally redo it. It doesn’t have to look like the old-”

“Yes,” he said, interrupting my ramblings. His voice was steady and sure, a stark contrast to my nervous chatter. I could feel his eyes on me, the honey-colored hue now dancing in the dim light of the room.

“Really?”

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