Femme Fatale Loved (Pericolo #3) (12 page)

“Then it’s time we sorted that out,” he says, slapping his hands to his lap as he sits forward. “Right, so what do you want to watch?”

I laugh as one thing comes to mind. “
Godfather
.” It’s a personal joke between us. We used to watch these Italian films and do nothing but complain that our lives weren’t anything like that – I wasn’t doted on and fiercely protected from the horrors, and Dante wasn’t groomed to be a don, he was thrown in at a young age. “Alessa has it on the shelf.”

“Once in a mafia family, never out of a mafia family,” he comments, grabbing the DVD. “You just can’t take the Italian out of some people.” He then looks wicked as he grins. “Or some people, you just can’t wait to put the Italian in.”

I catch on immediately at what he’s trying to insinuate, and I groan.

“Ew,” I say, scrunching my face in disgust. “That’s my brother!”

I watch him make quick work of the DVD player and take a seat beside me. He pulls me in close, allowing me to snuggle, and I know it’s not for comfort, it’s to make me sleep, but right now, I don’t want to miss a single moment of the good life.

Between the baby news, Alessa, and Dante, I finally feel like the fight was worth the wounds.

***

“
Mia Regina
.” Dante’s voice penetrates my light sleep. I open my eyes sleepily as he wraps his arms around Ryleigh and kisses her a welcome. “You took your sweet time getting back to me.”

“I like making you wait for me, Mr. Valentino,” Ryleigh replies, her voice small, almost as if she’s not used to an audience with this display of affection. “It makes coming home better.”

“I see you found my mafia collection.”

“We did, but she didn’t make it thirty minutes before she fell asleep. I left her because I thought she could use it.”

“She is awake,” I say, hiding my yawn behind my hand. I groan as I sit up, my head pounding again. “How hard did I hit my head on the way down?”

“Quite hard,” Alessa notes, setting my suitcase down before coming to sit with me. “I was shocked when they said you didn’t have a concussion. Do you need anything?”

“No, I should be fine,” I say, extending my hand out to pick up my glass of water. “Thank you for today.”

“You’re welcome,
tesora bello
. I’d do it over and over for you.” She grins at me, and I know she means it. “Right, we leave first thing in the morning. Flight’s at nine AM, and we land early afternoon. The first thing you’re doing is telling that man he’s going to be your baby daddy,” Alessa orders, but I can see the subtle excitement in her eyes. “That is our first port of call. Enzo is our second.”

“I have a third,” Dante says, still standing with his arm around Ryleigh. “I wouldn’t half mind going to the Abbiati mansion and checking in on the great Salvatore.”

“To gloat clearly,” Ryleigh teases, poking Dante in the ribs. “Can’t you just stick with Amelia and stay away from the old kind you used to run with?”

“I will after I’ve seen what’s become of the man who tried to destroy his daughter.”

I watch as Ryleigh sighs before they enter a muffled lover’s quarrel. She doesn’t have to worry; I won’t put her or him in any danger – not now, not after all this time.

“You’re not going there,” I state dryly, breaking into the minor dispute. “That man deserves to rot alone, not with some sort of peanut gallery popping for quick viewing.”

“He really did a number over you didn’t he, piccola?”

“Something like that,” I state, albeit gruffly as I feel a protective streak I never knew start to build in me. “I want him nowhere near my child. I won’t risk its life because that’s all that will happen if he catches wind. He will seek a way into the family, and I won’t allow him that. He destroyed his hope the moment he didn’t seek retribution for my brother. Even now, he’s nothing but a lowlife.” My gaze flicks back and forth between them all. “If you come back, you have to realize that we aren’t the same.”

“I can already tell you’re not the same Amelia I met,” Ryleigh begins to say before turning nervous on me. “The one I was jealous of, that is, and who seemed to understand Dante more than anyone did.”

“Hey, we were both two different people back there,” I acknowledge and put my hand out to her. “Truce before we head back to Manhattan?” I ask, in the hope she’ll agree, which she does without much thought, shaking my hand.

“Can’t wait to go back to Manhattan,” Dante cheers, pulling Ryleigh close after she agrees to my pact for a fresh start. “We can go back, and it be a free man’s state.”

“Mmm, I like the thought of that, baby,” Ryleigh agrees, kissing him. “There’s one issue, though.”

“Which is?”

“Jackson,” Ryleigh says, placing a hand on Dante’s hand. “He still thinks you died. It’s time you went to him and got him back in your life.”

“I can’t,” he replies, solemnly.

Turning in his hold, Ryleigh faces him and presses her forehead against Dante’s, catching his attention even with his defeated posture. “He and Jodi deserve to have you back, just like Amelia.”

“Seems I’m causing all sorts of reunions across the board, so why not you and Jackson?” I ask, tilting my head to the side to watch him intently. “He’s your brother.”

“Who will hate me ...”

“No!” Ryleigh states firmly, putting her small, tender hands on the side of Dante’s face. She holds him still, looking at him, and I get comfortable watching what’s about to unfold. “He is your brother. He will understand. You miss him like crazy, Dante, just like you did Amelia. I love you for choosing me, for giving me a family when I had none. I thank every day that you did what you did back then, even when it got really bad, and I love you for it. But it’s time to step out of the shadows. It’s time we found our family and started to mend bridges.” She lets her hands slip away from his face to set on his shoulders. “I don’t want to hear anything negative from you. You’re Dante Valentino; you fight for what you believe in. I’ve seen you do it once; I’ll watch you do it again.”

“God, how I fucking love you,” he growls, returning her gesture by framing her face and kissing her heavily. “This is why I need you. You make me see sense. I don’t know how you did it, but I love that you keep doing it, Mia Regina.”

“It’s because I got under your skin and keep you on the straight and narrow.”

I decide to give them both some peace and look at Alessa. She’s watching the pair, but there’s sadness in her eyes. Almost a resentment of such. She’s watched their love story blossom while hers turned to ashes and dying ember. I hate that she has missed so much because of my family. Like most, she became collateral damage and has lived that way for years. I want nothing more than to give her Enzo and their lost time back. I want them to reconcile so they can both seek that happiness they used to feel, but I panic it won’t be that easy. I worry it’ll take too much time for them to find forgiveness.

“It’ll be you again,” I say without thought. The moment the words tumble out, Alessa looks at me stunned, and I feel my eyes widen. I realize I can’t take it back, so I decide to continue with my big fucking mouth. “Having that sort of relationship will be yours again.”

“We’re too old for the young and in love routine,” Alessa defies my comments, smiling sadly at me.

“Are you?” I ask, scowling at her. “You have lost time to make up for, lost years. Don’t give up before you’ve even been back in a room with him. You’ll see things differently when you’re back with him.”

“I’m going back to talk some sense into that idiot man and sort his head out ...”

“And kiss and make up,” I intercept her battle plan, grinning wildly. Before she can reply, my phone starts to ring. I see Zane’s face on the screen and get up quickly. “Excuse me,” I say, pushing answer on my phone as I head for the open back doors that lead out onto the patio of the backyard. It’s almost nine PM here, so the heat still lingers in the air, but a cool breeze now makes it bearable. I sit down on one of the chairs and finally speak. “Hey,” I say down the line.

“Hey yourself, sweetheart. You’re an impossible woman to get hold of sometimes. Is California living that much better than New York?” he teases, but it makes my heart pang – if only he knew. “Hey, you there, Lia?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“You okay?” he asks, his worry filling the line. “You can’t leave a guy hanging when he’s over two thousand miles way.”

“I’m okay, just tired. The heat here is unbearable.” I feign when really I want to scream down the phone
I’M PREGNANT
. I refuse to break this news over the phone. It’d be unforgettable, that’s a definite, but I want to see his face.

“You sound tired, sweetheart.” There’s a small pause between, a deliberation of sorts. I have so much I want to tell him, but I can’t. “Enzo wanted you today.”

“Shit, does he know?”

“Of course not! Your stealthy boyfriend took him right off the scent. He went to the bar, and you weren’t there. He came to me and asked where you were. I lied, told him you were shopping for stuff for the house with Allana. Texted her the heads-up, he called her, and voila, Enzo was just upset he keeps missing you.” I feel bad that we’re lying to him, but it’s for the greater good. “Here, I learned some new Italian while you’ve been gone,” he starts to say excitement driving straight into his tone.

“It’s been two and a bit days; how are you still so hell-bent on upping your Italian?” I ask, laughing at his ridiculousness to master my native language.

“So that one day I can serenade you in my fantastic Italian.”

“You already do,” I admonish, teasing him relentlessly.

“Fine, it’s just something I think I’m going to say to you more often,” he says, and I can almost see his face, that grin so large it’s like the cat that got the fucking canary. “Plus, I love how you blush when I speak Italian to you.”

I grin like a lovesick fool when he says that. I love how it makes me feel when he speaks Italian. “What is it, then?” I ask, intrigued now.

“Vita mia,” he whispers down the line, his Italian accent near perfect. “Because that’s what you are, Amelia. You’re my life. Vita mia.”

“Oh,” I manage, left completely speechless as my eyes water.

“I know we had that stupid argument, but I’ve been thinking about it long and hard,” he says, sighing down the phone as he pauses. “I’m crazier about your crazy ass than the first day you tried to neuter me, Amelia. It’s not something I can shake; it’s not something I want to. I want to marry you so I can spend the rest of my life a happy, happy man. But it’s not only you spoiling that but me too. I keep pressuring you, and it’s not fair.” There’s another pause, and my breathing goes shallow as I wait to hear what he has to say. “But with you gone, I’ve realized that I will wait for you. I’m waiting for you to come home to me, Amelia Abbiati, and it’s killing me, but I can’t wait to have you in my arms again. I can’t wait to feel you against my body. I can’t wait to touch you again, and kiss you, and tell you how beautiful you look. But I can wait for you to say you’ll marry me because just having you by my side is well worth it.”

“You won’t have to wait forever,” I say, my eyes well with more unshed tears. My hand comes to my stomach. “I can promise you that, Zane. I won’t make you wait.”

“I’ll wait however long you want me to,” he says, showing he’s drawn the line on begging me into a marriage proposal. “It’ll always be the right moment to marry you, but I will wait. That’s a promise, promise me you won’t make me wait until I’m gray, and my physique isn’t quite so buff.”

I laugh, a sob hiccupping around it. “I promise you now I won’t make you wait until you’ve gone downhill with your looks.”

“Good,” he starts, a mirthful tone to his force. “... because I want to carry you over the threshold without my back giving out.”

“Trust me, it’ll happen before then. I know it will.” That’s the God’s honest truth, too.

“Good,” he replies, this time with a yawn, and I gaze back over my shoulder for the time. New York is three hours ahead of me here, so I know I can’t keep him up any longer.

“I know it’s nearly midnight there,” I comment, a pout developing on my bottom lip. “You should get some sleep, handsome. We can continue this chat tomorrow. You get to bed before you have to be up at the crack of dawn.”

“You’re right; I have a long day at work tomorrow.” Another yawn follows his comment. “Don’t make me wait forever to have you back, sweetheart. I can’t take the lonely nights.”

“I’ll be home before you know it,” I muse, hearing a mew of pleasure over that. “Love you, Zane. Sweet dreams.”

“Love you, too. Good night,
vita mia
,” he says before ending the call.

I swear I feel like my heart releases a happy sigh as I go back into the house.

I’m happier just for hearing his voice, just for knowing he’s waiting, and just for being aware that I’m going home with the best news possible.

***

Waking up the next morning, I feel nauseated, and I don’t know if it’s the onset of morning sickness, or if I’m just that nervous to get home. It sounds stupid, but so much is riding on my arrival home that I could honestly vomit over the thought of it. But then I was also told to expect morning sickness to be at its worse in my first trimester. How I had evaded any bouts of it so far were beyond me.