Page 178 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
Dante nods.
Not because he agrees, but because he trusts me.
The next morning, a convoy leaves the estate.
Rafa is inside it.
He wears no restraints, but there are no windows.
The guards do not speak.
His destination is known only to three people.
He does not get to say goodbye.
But then again, neither do I.
And perhaps this how it goes down in history for my brother and me, even though the love still exists, even though it always will.
Sometimes, it’s easier and safer to love from a distance.
One month later, the house no longer feels like a place I borrowed.
The courtyard has been repainted, the stonework scrubbed clean of soot, salt, and smoke.
The fig tree is blooming again, late for the season, but persistent.
Alessia insists the fairies came back to help it recover.
Arietta just wants to know when she can climb it again.
The guards are less visible now, though I know they’re still there.
Hidden in the angles of the estate.
In the rhythm of footsteps that never echo without reason.
The nanny, Clara, walks the girls to their tutors every morning.
Valentina joins them on the balcony with a fresh journal, Luca by her side with a stack of reports and the same cup of black coffee he always forgets to finish.
They survived.
The poison took its toll.
There were days after we returned when I thought Valentina would never walk again without a tremor in her right hand.
But she does now, firm and straight-backed, sharp as ever.
Luca recovered more slowly, his voice rougher, his patience thinner.
But his gaze has softened when he looks at Dante.
And at me.
He never once asked what I saw in that room beneath the monastery.
Never once asked what I chose.
