Page 75 of Angelo

He stared at her for a good, long while before responding, "I already miss you,cuore mio."

Alessandro caught her cheek in his palm and dipped his head down to kiss her. His arms came around to pull her flush against his chest as he deepened their kiss. He stole her breath away.

When they finally pulled apart, Elyse muttered breathlessly, "Don't get yourself killed while I'm gone, okay?"

The corner of Alessandro's mouth twitched with amusement, though, his eyes remained sad. "You said something very similar to me when we first met. Do you remember?"

A blip of a memory flashed before her. "I do."

You take your job very seriously.

What a long way they had come since then.

No, I take my life very seriously. Don't die while I'm gone, okay?

Damn.

Alessandro laughed quietly. "You should not worry about me,cuore mio. I am impossible to kill. I want you to focus on whatever it is you need to do in New York. Do not look back. Find peace and be happy."

Be happy?About what? Her father's funeral? Again, something felt amiss. Elyse's heart filled with love and anguish as she studied him with a faltering expression. "Is everything okay, Alessio?"

He didn't answer her question. Alessandro brushed her off and said instead, "Make sure to check your documents again once you land in New York. Call Mr. Schmid if you need anything."

Her husband's walls were still up. She sighed in frustration. "I'll do that."

Elyse grabbed her bags from Alessandro and turned away from him. It was time to board her flight. Elyse could sense the weight of his gaze boring into her with every step she took toward her gate. The bastard was driving her crazy with this fucking nonsense.

She narrowed her eyes.Ten fucking days. She’d be back in just ten days to sort this shit out with him.

The flight from Palermo to New York City took a total of thirteen hours with a layover in Paris. There was so much time to think. Too much time. When Robbie Romero was alive, all Elyse could focus on was the havoc he hadwrought upon their lives. Now that he was gone, Elyse only wanted to hold onto the good times they shared as father and daughter. Childhood memories played and replayed themselves like sweet, melancholy melodies forever stuck in her head.

Recollections like the first time he taught her how to play poker, exuding the patience and gusto of a sage, old master taking on a prized pupil.

Moments like the first time he took them on an impromptu trip to Disney World for a week after a particularly lucky winning streak in Vegas. Her father had spoiled her rotten, then, and they had the time of their lives.

Flashbacks like the first time she got her period in sixth grade. Elyse had been convinced that she would bleed to death by morning. Her father promptly took her to buy pads and cookies and chocolates and assured her, awkwardly but confidently, that she wouldn't die, that she was becoming a young woman, and that she had nothing to be afraid of because—

Papá está aquí. No te pasará nada mientras esté aquí. Dad is here. Nothing bad will happen to you as long as I'm here.

Throughout the flight, Elyse struggled to hold back the tears during this onslaught of nostalgia. These hours on the plane became her time to grieve.

Once Elyse landed in JFK, she hit the ground running. Elyse barely spent any time in her hotel. Jet lag be damned. There was too much to be done. Her father's body needed to be collected from the morgue. The funeral arrangements were a fucking mess. She was constantly emailing and calling lawyers and insurance reps.

Not everything was terrible, though. Despite the constant turmoil she felt, there was also something comforting about being back in New York. The sights and sounds and smells of the city returned Elyse to a time when she wasn'tSignora Vitale. The grit and glamour of it all filled her bone-deep sense of familiarity. Coming back to her old stomping grounds made her feel almost like Dr. Romero again.Almost. But not quite.

Because the past was dead and gone.

Every time Elyse stared down at the glinting diamond ring on her finger, she was reminded that New York was no longer her home. Home was with her husband. A powerful yearning seized her chest as she thought of Alessandro. She missed the beautiful bastard.

What was he doing right now? Did he miss her as much she missed him? Elyse often had to remind herself tostopobsessing over him. Just to stay focusedon the tasks at hand. But,Dios, time was moving so fucking slowly here. She couldn’t wait to return to Palermo.

Robbie Romero's funeral took place on Elyse's fifth day in New York. The service was held at a small Catholic church near Greenwich Village. Elyse and her stand-in bodyguards were the only ones in attendance. Monte and Luca had stayed behind in Sicily to assist Alessandro.

Toward the end of the service, much to Elyse's shock, one more guest showed up. An older woman dressed in all black entered the chapel. She wore a pair of oversized sunglasses. Her blackish-brown hair carried streaks of white and silver. Elyse assumed that the newcomer might have wandered in on accident. The stranger looked far too expensive, elegant, and aristocratic to be from her father's social circles.

"Sorry, ma'am, but I'm holding a funeral service for my father at the moment," Elyse called out to her. "We'll be finished shortly if you want to wait outside."

"Is this service being held for Robert Romero?" the woman inquired softly. Her English carried a hint of an Italian accent.

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