Page 94 of Silence and Surrender

“We’re thinking of naming him Dillion,” Ashlynn said, her hand linked with Steele’s.

“It’s perfect,” Isabella smiled. “Though I bet Ember had other suggestions.”

“She wants to name him Sparkles,” Steele said dryly.

“Still better than Clara’s suggestion of Grape,” Cooper chuckled, kissing his daughter’s head.

I watched Isabella throughout the evening, saw how she fit so naturally into this world we’d created. How she smiled at Allegra’s stories and answered Ember’s endless questions. How she seemed to glow in the candlelight, one hand occasionally drifting to her stomach in an unconscious gesture of protection.

When Clara finally fell asleep, Cooper carried her to bed with Allegra following. Steele and Ashlynn excused themselves soon after, taking a drowsy Ember back to the guest house that had replaced the old groundskeeper’s cottage.

Isabella and I moved back out to the terrace, watching the stars emerge over the vines. She settled between my legs on the lounge chair, her back against my chest, and I wrapped a light blanket around us to ward against the cooling air.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“For what?”

“For this. For them. For giving me a family again.” Her voice caught slightly. “When my father died, I thought...I didn’t think I’d ever have this again.”

I tightened my arms around her, one hand splaying protectively over our child. “They’re yours now. All of them. The good, the bad, the slightly insane.”

She laughed quietly. “I love them.”

“Even Cooper?”

“Especially Cooper. He’s your twin…he’s a part of you.” She turned her head to kiss my jaw. “Like a particularly persistent vine. The way he and Allegra took care of me these past few weeks...” She trailed off, emotion thick in her voice.

“They love you too. You’re part of us now. Forever.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the night sounds of the vineyard. Crickets chirped in the herb garden. A night bird called from the cypress trees. Everything was peaceful.

“I love you,” I murmured into her hair. “Both of you.”

She snuggled closer, guiding my other hand to where our child grew. “We love you too. Though your child is currently making me debate whether I want to throw up dinner or not.”

“My child, is it? Not ours when they’re misbehaving?”

“Definitely yours. I recognize that stubborn streak.”

I chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Get used to it. Moreaus are notorious for being difficult.”

“Mmm.” She was getting sleepy, her words softening. “Good thing I like difficult. And complicated. And impossible.”

“We’ve had enough impossible,” I said softly.

She turned in my arms, facing me. In the starlight, her eyes held that fierceness I’d fallen in love with. “No more impossible missions after we take down the bank?”

“No more.” I brushed my thumbs over her cheeks. “Just family. Just love. Just watching our child grow up safe.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

I held her until her breathing evened out, memorizing the weight of her in my arms. The scent of her hair. The way she fit against me like she was made for it.

The stars shone overhead, ancient and unchanging. Somewhere in London, the bank’s crimes continued. Somewhere, there were still battles to fight and wrongs to right.

But here, in this moment, there was just us. Just family. Just love.

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