Page 59 of Dangerous Vows

One of the kids—Lorenzo, Matteo’s son—climbs into Amara’s lap without hesitation, showing her a wooden plane. “Oook!” he says.

Amara takes it, inspecting it seriously. “This is incredible. Do you fly it?”

Lorenzo shakes his head. “No.”

“Not yet,” Matteo’s voice chimes in from where he’s stroking the fire in the fireplace. “I’m working on a prototype.”

Amara laughs, and I watch as she stands and hoists the boy onto her hip like she’s been doing it forever.

Something settles deep inside me. I lean down, my voice low, murmuring, “You’re good with them.”

She looks up, her expression unreadable. “I like kids.”

“Would you want one?”

She hesitates, then nods. “Yes.”

That one word—yes—slips from her lips like a secret, and it strokes something warm deep inside me. Something ancient stirs, something dangerous and undeniablymine. A possessive heat anchors itself in my chest, swelling with every beat of my heart.

She said yes—not to me, not to now, but to someday, to the idea that our future will have the presence of a newborn, with a face and personality that will carry pieces of us both. That’s prolific.

It isn't just hope that settles into my bones. It's a vow. A silent, ruthless promise that I will protect the future that will one day be ours.

And now I don't just want her.

I wantforever.

Across the room, Matteo raises a brow. “You look like you’re plotting something,” he says as he looks at me.

I smirk, sipping my whiskey. “Always.”

The conversation drifts into teasing and easy banter as the fire crackles. Federico enters the room, declaring dinner is ready, and we all gather around the large table worthy of the Queen of England. Dinner plates are passed amid the quiet conversations, and fine wine flows freely.

I watch Amara move amongst my family, talking to everyone, and she’s smiling. God, who knew a woman’s smile was such a turn-on?

After dinner, we relax together once again. This day is sublime, and I never want it to end, and that’s when my nephew stumbles over Amara’s feet. My heart skips a beat as her eyes meet mine, and she giggles with him before sinking to the floor, pulling Lorenzo into her lap, and tickling him. My heart melts.

She belongs here, with me and with us.

AMARA

HIS WORLD MY WAR

Family day at the Borrelli mansion is nothing short of chaos wrapped in warmth with an endless number of hugs, numerous jovial greetings, and barbed one-liners that are affectionately given. The conversation never stalls. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of this family?

The scent of fresh bread wafting in from the kitchen makes my mouth water. The fireplace crackles now and again, casting a golden glow over the space where everyone has gathered. It’s overwhelming, but in a way that makes me feel… something I shouldn’t.

Like I belong.

I sit on the plush couch with a glass of wine in my hand, watching the madness unfold. Lorenzo, Matteo, and Alena’s son is over a year old but has already mastered the art of getting into everything. He toddles forward with his chubby arms outstretched and aims straight for Pietro’s leg.

“Look at him go,” Bianca grins from across the room. “Already making moves like a true Borrelli.”

Pietro smirks, scooping his nephew up into his arms, and they rub noses until Lorenzo laughs. He does this with an ease that makes my chest tighten. “Are you causing trouble already, little man?”

Lorenzo babbles something unintelligible, reaching for Pietro’sface. He catches the tiny hand in his, and the sharp contrast in size is noteworthy. “Gotta learn some words first, kid. Then we’ll talk,” he jokes.

Marcella, Niccoló, and Siobhan’s daughter is nestled in her mother’s arms, only stirring when someone gets too loud. Siobhan bounces her gently, smiling down at her daughter before glancing at me. I pick up on the fact that she cautiously keeps an eye on her son, Massimo, who sleeps in a Pack and Play in the corner of the room. It’s obvious they are twins.

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