Page 23 of The Satyr Next Door
Screw that.
The clarity snapped into place so suddenly it left me breathless. I wasn’t going to lie anymore. Not to my children, notto myself. If this was real, and God help me, it already was, then it couldn’t just be stolen hours in his bed.
It had to be all of it.
I waited until the house quieted, until Aria’s music cut off and Luca’s video games went silent. Then I pulled on a jacket like armor and walked out the back door.
The night was thick with crickets and humidity. My heart pounded, not with guilt this time but with resolve. The gate creaked softly as I pushed it open, lantern-light spilling across paths I was already beginning to know by heart.
And there he was. Pacing like a caged thing, shirtless, curls disheveled, tension in every line of his body. His head snapped up the moment I entered.
“Gina—”
“Tomorrow.” My voice cut clean through the humid air. “Dinner. At my house. With my children.”
He froze. For one beat he looked stunned, then the slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Ordering me around now, Bella?”
“Yes.” My chin lifted, every nerve alive with the risk. “If you want more than a tryst in your garden, and I do, then you’ll sit at my table. You’ll eat with my kids. You’ll let them meet the man who’s been making their mother smile.”
Something flickered in his eyes, shock, awe, hunger, maybe all three. “You’d have me meet them? Your children?”
“I’m not hiding you. I won’t pretend you’re something to be ashamed of.” My throat tightened, but the words came steady. “I want this. I want you. But if it’s real, it has to be all of it.”
For a long moment he just looked at me, like I’d offered him the sun. Then he crossed the garden in two strides and pulled me against him, mouth crashing to mine in a kiss.
When he finally broke away, his forehead rested against mine, breath hot and uneven. “Bella,” he murmured, voice rough. “You don’t know what you’ve just given me.”
“I gave you dinner plans,” I tried, though my voice cracked with how much I meant it.
His laugh rumbled against my chest. “Then I’ll bring wine. And fruit from the garden. And everything else you’ll let me give.”
I smiled against his skin, lighter than I had all night. This wasn’t a secret anymore. It wasn’t shame.
It was a beginning.
Chapter 14
Gina
I wasn’t sure which of us was more nervous.
Aria had been tapping her fork against her water glass for ten minutes, suspicion practically steaming off her dark eyes as she glanced between me and the extra place setting I’d arranged at the head of our little dining table. The good plates inherited from Nonna, only used for holidays and other special occasions, gleamed under the overhead light I’d dimmed in a desperate attempt to make things feel cozy instead of clinical.
Luca sprawled in his usual chair like he didn’t care, but his shoelaces were actually tied for once and he’d changed out of his ripped jeans without me nagging. Dead giveaways.
As for me? My palms were damp, my stomach in knots, and I’d refolded the same dish towel so many times it looked ironed. Dinner was way too much for a Wednesday. I'd made roast chicken, crispy garlic potatoes, sautéed green beans, andhomemade bread I’d slaved over like some 1950s housewife auditioning for sainthood.
Like food could prove to my kids that inviting a satyr to dinner wasn’t proof I’d lost my mind.
“Mom.” Aria’s fork tap-tapped, sharp with impatience. “Who’s coming to dinner? And why are you acting like you’re about to throw up?”
“I’m not—” I caught sight of my reflection in the window. Pale, jumpy, and sweating like a woman about to be executed. “I’m fine. I just want everything to be… nice.”
“Since when do you care about nice?” Luca finally looked up from his phone, squinting at the spread. “What is this? Did you rob a restaurant?”
Before I could answer, a knock came. Soft but steady. Exactly at seven.
Aria’s eyebrows shot up. “You actually invited someone? Like… a date?”
