Page 67 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
The girls are in our arms instantly.
Arietta flings herself onto Dante like she has always known him, laughing, calling out how pretty everything is.
Alessia insists I twirl her once in my dress, clapping with delight as the skirts billow.
I do it once, but only once.
I am not in the mood to dance.
Valentina supervises the photographs, ensuring everything is properly documented for both records and appearances.
She kisses my cheek and whispers something in my ear I barely register.
I think it is a wish for peace.
Or strength.
Or both.
We move to the dining area, where a beautiful meal is served beneath a canopy of glass lanterns.
Guests speak softly, analyzing power shifts between bites of filet and spoonfuls of saffron risotto.
Toasts are made, all brief and political, with little warmth.
Later, when the children begin to yawn, I excuse myself and take them back to the suite.
Dante follows behind me, even though I don't ask him to.
And when Arietta stumbles against her own sleepiness, he lifts her before I can bend down.
She wraps her arms around his neck without hesitation.
His eyes meet mine as he holds her.
"I’ll carry her," he says, voice subdued so as to not wake her.
I nod, suppressing the wistful way his voice makes my heart clench.
Alessia trails behind us, clutching the hem of my dress, her eyes already heavy-lidded.
The halls are dim, the estate quieter now that the guests are leaving or retiring to the guest wing.
At the door to our suite, I open it and hold it wide for him to step through.
He does so without speaking.
Gently, he lays Arietta down on the bed in the twin’s bedroom , brushing her curls away from her face.
For a moment, he just stands there, looking at her like he still cannot believe she is real.
"She looks like you," I murmur.
He does not answer, but I can see the shift in his expression.
The awareness.
The slow acknowledgment of something that looks so much like love.
