Page 61 of Take A Chance

34

Blake

As I turned onto the long, winding driveway that led up to my sprawling mansion, the weight of the week’s events began to lift off my shoulders. The stress of the past few days seemed to melt away as I gazed out at the perfectly manicured grounds, the towering oak trees, and the pristine pool that shimmered in the sunlight. For a moment, I allowed myself to bask in the luxury of it all, to feel the familiar comfort of my own wealth and power.

But as I parked the car and stepped out onto the marble steps that led up to the front door, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. I knew Emma had no family now, and despite that having nothing to do with me, I still felt bad for her. My experiences with the mafia were only a drop in the bucket compared to what she must have experienced in her life.

Shaking off the feeling, I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. The cool air-conditioned air hit me like a refreshing wave, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to be home—a home where I could build a future with my family.

“Why don’t you go put your things away and I’ll make us some tea while we wait for Greta and Katelyn?” I told Emma, kissing her forehead. She happily obeyed, heading up the stairs.

In the kitchen, I stirred the pot of boiling water and added in the tea leaves, inhaling the fragrant aroma. Emma returned to the kitchen and hopped up onto one of the stools at the breakfast nook. I poured her a cup of tea and then sat beside her, my gaze moving over her delicate features.

"You must be tired," I said softly.

She shrugged. "I'll be okay."

I reached over and took her hand, rubbing circles over her palm with my thumb. The idea that life was growing inside her made my heart swell. I hadn’t been able to be a part of things with Katelyn. I was looking forward to being with Emma every step of the way. I had no idea what a pregnant woman needed, but I would provide only the best for her.

“I can’t wait to meet our new little one,” I told her, squeezing her hand. She smiled at me.

“Me neither. And I can’t wait to see what Katelyn thinks about being a big sister.”

I heard the front door open and then Katelyn called, “Emma?” She sounded both happy and anxious as she called out, “Emma?”

Emma slid off the stool and turned just as Katelyn ran into the room. Her hair was down, soft ringlets framing her face. She raced up to Emma and nearly tackled her in a hug around the waist. Emma bent and held her, kissing the top of her head.

“Oh, Katie, I missed you so much.”

Katelyn pulled away, tears in her eyes, and asked, “How was your trip?”

Emma glanced at me, and I nodded. I hadn’t even taken time to explain how we'd had to lie to protect Katelyn, but Emma understood. “It was really good. I got to see my dad, and I ate some really good pancakes.”

My heart squeezed a little at the mention of her father, my shoulders tightening, but I pushed the feeling aside and rose to accept a hug Katelyn offered. She wiped her eyes before wrapping her arms around my legs, and I picked her up and kissed her rosy cheeks. I knew the past few weeks had been hard on her, especially the last few days being away from everyone.

“Did you enjoy your visit with Nana and Pop-Pop?”

She nodded and wiped her eyes again. “I don’t want Emma to take any more trips.”

Emma rubbed her back and smiled. “I don’t plan to take any more trips for a while, kiddo. Except for a trip to the pool. How does that sound?"

Katelyn’s face lit up, and Greta walked into the kitchen. “Yes! I want to swim.” I set her down.

“Go on and get changed, then. Emma, would you help her get ready? I’d like to speak to Greta for a moment.” I wanted to ask how Katelyn had been and if there was any trouble with the drive. Greta looked nervous, though, fearful maybe.

“Sure,” Emma said, taking Katelyn’s hand. When she passed Greta in the doorway, she whispered something, then stepped out, leaving me and the maid alone.

“Sir, I think we should talk,” Greta said, hesitantly walking toward me. I sat back down and rested my elbow on the table.

“Of course. Have a seat.” I gestured across from me and she sat. Her hands shook, folding and unfolding in front of herself. “What is it?” Nothing she could say would shock me as much as the way Emma’s true identity had. I assumed she would tell me how Katelyn had eaten too many cookies or refused to do her studies. When she opened her mouth to speak, though, I was floored.

“Sir, if Amelia can be brave and truthful, then I owe to you to be honest too.” Her lip quivered, and I tensed, preparing for whatever news it was that she had to give me. She knew Emma’s real name, so for starters, that was a shock. I’d seen them at times acting chummy, talking secretively when they thought I wasn’t looking. They’d been that way since Emma arrived, but I was only now putting those pieces together.

“What do you mean?”

“My name is not Greta Vantilburg. My name is Giada Luccino. I worked for Signore Bonetti for many years. I helped his wife before her very unfortunate death. My husband, Alberto, worked for him too, as a caporegime.” She took a deep breath, eyes filled with tears, and I waited patiently for her to continue. This news came as a complete surprise, but it made sense.

Greta wrung her hands as if she were afraid to keep going, but bravely, she looked me in the eye and said, “He was murdered in cold blood, right in front of me. Joseph Bonetti had his men kill my husband for ratting. He built a relationship with the police and wanted to get us out, me and my two sons, before it was too late. Bonetti found out and had him killed, then my sons turned on me. They were afraid of him. They were only just barely adults, but they were loyal to him.

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