Page 84 of Mafia Don's Secret Heir
She’s the Salvatore queen.
The silenceafter war is almost louder than the chaos itself.
Bodies litter the estate grounds, both Rossi and Salvatore alike, their blood seeping into the soil. Smoke lingers in the air, the acrid scent of gunpowder mingling with the metallic tang of spilled life. My men are regrouping, the survivors moving like shadows, picking through the wreckage and securing the perimeter.
I stand in the center of it all, my hands still slick with blood, my chest heaving from the fight. Marco approaches, his face grim, though his eyes glint with the satisfaction of survival.
“It’s done,” he says simply, gesturing toward the bodies being loaded into trucks. “The Rossis are finished. Their strongholds will crumble by morning.”
My jaw tightens, but I nod. The victory is hollow. We’ve won, but at a cost. Men I’ve fought beside for years are gone, their loyalty snuffed out like candles in the wind.
“Call the housekeeper,” I say, my voice low but firm. “I need to know Leo’s safe.”
Marco pulls out his phone without hesitation, his usual quip absent as he dials. My fingers curl into fists as I wait, the seconds stretching into eternity.
“Mrs. Lanza,” Marco says after a beat. His voice softens slightly, a rare show of respect. “Is the boy all right?”
He glances at me, nodding. “Yes, we’ll send someone to fetch him tomorrow morning. Keep him close tonight.”
Relief washes over me, but it’s brief. The war is over, but the scars it’s left will take much longer to heal.
By the time the next day rolls around, the estate is already buzzing with activity. Repairs are underway, shattered windowshave been replaced, and bullet holes are patched, as if the battle was nothing more than a passing storm.
Valentina is in the dining room when I finish overseeing things—it’s late evening by this time. Her face is pale.
Leo is sitting beside her, his little hands gripping a fork as he digs into his plate of pasta. He looks up when I enter, his face lighting up with a smile that’s brighter than anything I deserve.
“Daddy!” he calls, waving me over.
I walk to the table, ruffling his hair before taking the seat beside him. Valentina’s gaze flickers to mine, her lips parting slightly as if she wants to say something, but the words don’t come.
Dinner is quiet. Leo chatters happily about the toy car he left at the hotel, oblivious to the storm we’ve just weathered. I glance at Valentina again, and this time, she holds my gaze.
After dinner, Leo’s energy finally gives out. His head droops forward, his little hands clutching the edge of the table as sleep claims him.
“I’ve got him,” Dante says, rising from his seat with a wink. He scoops Leo up effortlessly, cradling him in his arms.
As he turns to leave, he throws a glance over his shoulder. “You two lovebirds deserve some privacy.”
Valentina’s cheeks flush, and she looks away, but I don’t miss the faint smile that tugs at her lips as I pull her to me.
Her body softens in my arms, her breath steadying against my chest. I brush my hand gently over her back, letting her know without words that I’m here, that I won’t let her go—not now, not ever.
“Come with me,” I murmur, tilting her chin up so her tear-bright eyes meet mine.
She nods without hesitation, and I lift her effortlessly, cradling her against me. Her arms wrap around my neck as Icarry her out of the suite and through the quiet corridors of the estate, to our bedroom.
The dim light catches the curve of her cheek, the swell of her lips, and I can’t resist. Leaning down, I brush my mouth over hers, a kiss that’s soft, deliberate, and filled with all the things I can’t quite put into words. She sighs into me, her fingers threading into my hair as she pulls me closer.
I pull back just enough to whisper, “I’m not done with you yet.”
Her breath hitches, her lips parting, but there’s no hesitation in her eyes, only trust and a simmering desire.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, letting my fingers trail down her cheek, her neck, the line of her collarbone. “Every part of you, Valentina. Every inch.”
Her hands slide up my chest, her touch light but insistent. “Show me,” she whispers, her voice low and filled with a need that matches my own.
“I intend to.”
