Page 151 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
"I am sorry for the intrusion," he says, voice gravelly. "But I thought it was time we spoke."
He shrugs one shoulder, the movement slow.
"I worried for you. The news reaches even the quieter corners of the city. I heard...something happened."
I nod. "There was a breach. We’re still securing the grounds."
His gaze flickers, not with surprise, but with concern.
"The girls?"
"They’re safe."
He exhales softly.
"That’s all that matters."
I study him for a moment.
His face is thinner, the lines around his eyes deeper than I remember, but his expression is still the same one that greeted me in the halls of the old Rossi estate every morning before school.
There’s comfort in it, even if I can’t afford comfort right now.
"Would you walk with me?" he asks. "If there’s time."
I hesitate only a moment before nodding.
"Of course."
He smiles gently, the kind of smile that carries too many years behind it.
Wistfulness wrings my heart raw as I notice how it isn’t the polite stretch of lips that he always reserved for strangers, butthe kind worn by men who watched you grow from nothing and still see the child in the shadow of the adult.
I lead him through the western corridor garden, where the architecture softens.
Here, the estate forgets its angles.
The stone arches blur into trellises, and the gravel path is narrowed by moss.
Two guards are stationed at the far end, near the old sundial.
They straighten when they see us, eyes flicking to the man at my side.
I give a single nod, and they ease back into the hedge without question.
The corridor opens to an arcade of vines.
Moonflower and winter jasmine trail across wrought iron, already heavy with scent.
The air is cooler here, holding the echo of water from a nearby fountain I can’t yet hear.
It smells of rosemary and lime bark, damp mulch, and split citrus peels from earlier in the day.
Renato walks slowly.
His cane taps gently against the crushed stone path, a rhythm unhurried.
He does not fill the silence, and neither do I.
