Page 46 of The Marriage Contract

I look out the window, letting the sun blind me, ignoring her question.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DARIO

“Keep looking for Vincenzo,” I snap at the phone as I drive through the city, returning to the townhouse after a long day of work.

“We are,” Paolo replies. “The little rat might’ve fled the city.”

“Maybe, or he’s regrouping and getting ready for another stunt. Any news about the aunt’s place?”

“We’ve got around-the-clock security. Our men say the aunt isn’t too pleased about it. She has a real distaste for us Mafia types.”

Like aunt, like niece. “As long as she’s safe.”

When I get home, I wonder if it’s worth checking in on Elena again. She hasn’t even replied whenever I’ve knocked on her door these past three days. I wonder if it’s what she saw me do to that kidnapping lowlife. Perhaps it’s how eager I was to indulge in her body or a mixture of both. It might be everything else that’s constantly weighing down on us.

I walk through the house to her bedroom. The door’s open. That’s different. As I poke my head inside, panic grips me when I don’t see her. Where the hell is she?

“Elena,” I snap, rushing to the en-suite bathroom. “Elena!”

She’s not here, either. I raise my voice, my throat tight, devastation slamming into me. There’s no damn way I’m going to get lucky twice. We could only save her because we found that farmhouse. He won’t make the same mistake again. He’s going to hurt her.

Then I hear it through the open window—Elena’s laughter.

I rush to the glass and stare down in awe at my mother and Elena sitting on the back porch. My mother says something, and Elena laughs again. It’s a quiet laugh, though not carefree. It’s still sweeter than any sound I expected to hear from her after the chaos she’s experienced.

Heading downstairs, I join them on the porch. Elena has showered and changed into a loose-fitting dress, her hair wavy around her shoulders. Her smile falters when she sees me, but she doesn’t look away. Her eyes still hold some confusion and fear, but maybe not as much. Or perhaps that’s just my hope talking.

“I thought something had happened to you,” I whisper.

“I’m okay,” she murmurs. “Maria persuaded me to get some sun. I think it helped.”

“Yeah. You look better.”

Her lip twitches, eyes gleaming briefly. I almost think she’s going to sass me like she did before the kidnapping. But the experience has taken something from her, at least for now.“Maria told me how you used to play soldier and how seriously you took it.”

My mother’s smile is full and bright. I feel like I’ve walked into a different house. The atmosphere over the last three days has changed. The depression, a weightiness that reminds me of how much things have changed between Elena and me, seems to have dissipated. Not entirely, but enough to give me a jolt of foolish optimism.

“He’d march up and down like a little soldier,” Mother says. “If we didn’t play our roles correctly, he’d bequiteangry, wouldn’t you, Dario?”

I join them at the table, letting a fond smirk cover my face. When my leg brushes against Elena’s, and she doesn’t move away, I count it as a small, petty victory.

“I was a little tyrant,” I say, risking a laugh. “Wanting everyone to play my silly games with me. I won’t deny that, Mother.”

“Now you’re abigtyrant,” my mother says, and we all laugh.

“Your laughter is the most beautiful sound in the world,” I say, turning to Elena.

She bites down, her cheeks infusing with that tempting redness. Still, she’s holding something back or reliving what happened in real time. Yet she’s trying, and I’m so damn grateful for that.

“My son, the romantic,” my mother says lovingly.

“I’m right, though,” I say. “I’m tempted to ask you to let me record your laughter, Elena, so I can listen to it when I’m down.”

Her smile feels like a hard-fought victory. I caution myself against getting too hopeful.

Elena glances at my mother. “Should we tell him?”

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