Page 64 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
But those kids don’t need that man, and neither does she.
They deserve someone who doesn’t flinch when he’s needed.
Someone who doesn’t see responsibility as a trap.
I’m not sure I can be him, but I want to be.
"I’m not good at this," I admit. "But I want to be."
Gianna’s mouth presses into a line.
I don’t break character.
There’s a lot riding on this, because I need this woman in front of me to trust me enough to let me spend some time with my kids.
"I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m not even asking for trust. But I want to be part of their lives. And I want to make this easier for you, not harder."
She watches me for a long time.
Her eyes are tired, but not cruel.
"I don’t expect much, Dante," she says finally. "Just don’t break their hearts."
"I won’t."
And hell, I mean it.
There’s a mess of things I could say, but none of them feel like the kind that fixes anything.
So, I go with the only thing that’s been circling in my head since I saw them.
I never thought I’d have it in me to be anyone’s father—but I’m here now, and I’ll damn well figure it out.
11
GIANNA
The next morning brings out a pale sun, filtered through heavy clouds that threaten rain but never follow through.
A hush seems to hang over the estate, as if even the birds know not to sing too loud today.
From the south wing balcony, I can see the garden being set up with crisp white canopies, gold-rimmed chairs, and an arch of dark red roses climbing up two marble columns like they were born to bloom just for this occasion.
Every detail has been curated by Valentina’s staff, swift and efficient as always, but I can see the mark of her hand in the choice of colors, the restraint in the design.
This is not a Salvatore showpiece.
It is a Salvatore mandate dressed up in dignity.
Seven days have passed since I came to stay here, and today is my wedding day.
The suite feels balmy, but not overwhelming.
Arietta has found a ribbon in the shape of a crown and is now demanding that I pin it into her hair with the seriousness of a royal coronation.
Alessia, meanwhile, is pacing between the closet and the full-length mirror, twirling every few minutes in her ivory dress, the silk catching the light with every motion.
She giggles as she spins, little shoes tapping the floor in a rhythm all her own.
