Page 61 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
Her sister leans forward, whispering loud enough for me to hear, "He looks like the picture."
"What picture?" I ask, not moving from the doorway.
Their eyes widen, unsure whether they’ve said too much.
"The one in Mama’s drawer," the first girl mutters, then adds with stubborn pride, "I wasn’t snooping. It was already open."
I huff through my nose.
Not quite a laugh.
Not quite judgment either.
She takes a step forward, inspecting me.
"What’s your name?"
"Dante."
They repeat it in unison.
One tests the sound like it’s a new word she needs to try out a few more times.
The other just tilts her head.
"I’m Alessia," says the girl with the basket. "She’s Arietta."
"Are you here for dinner?" Arietta asks, chewing her bottom lip. "Mama says we’re not supposed to ask too many questions, but she didn’t say anything about guests."
I step into the courtyard, unsure why I’m still here.
I should walk away.
I should let Valentina or someone else who is gentler step in.
I don’t belong in this picture.
"No," I say, quieter this time. "I’m not here for dinner."
A silence falls between us, and then Alessia points to a cluster of mud-covered leaves beside the tree.
"We’re building a city," she says proudly. "That’s the library. It fell over twice but we fixed it."
I glance at the pile.
"Strong foundation?"
She nods like I’ve passed a test.
"You can help if you want," Arietta offers. "But you can’t touch the palace. That part’s finished."
My body lowers without thought.
I kneel beside their masterpiece and pretend to understand its blueprints.
They explain it with the confidence of engineers, pointing out stick bridges and leaf roofs, naming bugs that have taken up residence as if they were tenants.
It’s absurd and messy and beautiful in a way I was not prepared for.
