Chapter 13
Rory
I frowned up at the mansion set before us as we drove through the front gates. “Is this a different house?”
My memory might be fuzzy after seven years away, but I could have sworn Matteo lived in a chateau-style house with distinctive turrets—something you’d expect to belong to an aristocrat in the French countryside.
This structure, however, had a stone facade that gave off a cottage feel.
And if I wasn’t mistaken, it was situated right on the lake.
“Mmm.” Gio shifted the SUV into park. “Old place burned down a few years back, from what I’ve been told.”
My eyes grew wide. “Burned down?”
He turned to me with an arched eyebrow. “Have you been away so long that you’ve forgotten how dangerous this life is? How there’s always someone aiming for the target on our backs?”
I shook my head. “Of course not. I just didn’t think—”
“Think what? That there aren’t monsters currently lurking in the shadows, trying to take power for themselves?”
Swallowing thickly, I rasped, “What happened to wives and children being off limits?”
Gio scoffed. “You can’t expect a man who abused his own wife and children to care much about putting anyone else’s in the line of fire. Literally in this case.”
Lips parted in shock at his revelation that the family was currently under attack, I managed to ask, “Who?”
As his head dropped back against the seat, my husband’s eyes slid shut. “Fucking Dario.”
I couldn’t contain my gasp. “Your uncle?”
This was worse than I thought. A rival organization was one thing, but an insurrection from within meant bloodshed.
Lots of it. Gio’s head wouldn’t be the one they wanted, and with his brother next in line, it made sense that Dario would come after his family, too.
Any and all opposition or claims to the throne had to be eliminated for him to take over—including my baby boy.
Icy tendrils of fear tightened around my heart, and my eyes darted around, searching for assassins hidden in the elaborate landscaping. “M-maybe we shouldn’t be here.”
Gio did the absolute last thing I would have ever expected him to do: he grabbed my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “My men are on high alert; every Bellini residence has been heavily fortified. Outside of our estate, this is the safest place in the city. Trust me.”
Wry laughter filled the cabin. If trust had ever existed between us—which I highly doubted—it was irrevocably broken after he’d gotten plastic surgery to trick me into believing he was someone else so he could get me pregnant and drag me back home.
How in the hell did he expect me to ever believe another damn word he said, let alone believe that he could keep me safe when there were dangerous men out there who viewed the innocent life I carried as a threat?
I wasn’t na?ve. I’d grown up in organized crime. For the next few months, it would be as simple as: kill the mother, and in turn, kill the heir.
My life was on the line just as much as Gio’s.
Releasing his hold on me, Gio hopped out of the SUV, rounding the hood to help me out. On shaky legs, I walked beside him to the front door, and together we waited for someone to answer after ringing the doorbell.
When the door was pulled open, it was Matteo who stood on the other side, a genuine smile on his face. “Hey! You made it. Come on in.” He stepped aside to grant us entry, then took our coats.
“Where would you like the present?” I held up the brightly colored gift bag in my hand.
“I can take that.” He eased it from my grasp. “Summer’s in the kitchen doing some last-minute prep before the guests arrive. I have to steal Gio away to sign some documents, but I can introduce you first.”
“Sure, sounds great.”
Matteo led us through an open archway beneath the staircase in the foyer, past what appeared to be a playroom filled to the brim with toys—and if I wasn’t mistaken, an inflatable ball pit—and several other living spaces, until we reached the open-concept kitchen where a blonde woman was bustling about.
“Dolcezza.” The single word uttered in Italian by my brother-in-law was enough to get her to pause her frantic motions.
Big blue eyes lit up when they landed on us. “Oh! You’re here!” Then she rounded the large marble island and threw her arms around me. “It’s so nice to meet you!”
I stood there stunned, my arms hanging limply by my side.
She was far younger than I expected, maybe mid-twenties to Matteo’s mid-thirties, and way more chipper than any of the mafia wives I’d encountered in the past. Though, to be fair, all of them had been born into this criminal underworld and had seen more than their fair share of death and destruction.
There was a whole rack of black garments hanging in my closet meant for funerals.
By the time she pulled back, I’d found my voice. “Uh, hi. I’m Rory.”
She nodded so enthusiastically that she resembled a bobblehead doll. “Yes, I know!” But when she turned to the man standing by my side, her gaze grew wary, and she seemed to sober up. “And you must be Gio. I’ve heard a lot about you both.”
Despite her initial excitement at our arrival, it was easy to tell that much of what she’d heard hadn’t been good.
Matteo moved so that he could loop an arm around the blonde’s waist. “I want you both to meet Summer, my wife.”
The young woman’s cheeks pinkened as she brought a palm to her forehead. “I always forget to introduce myself.”
Gio chuckled. “It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who has my brother so smitten.”
As she turned to her husband, a dazzling smile lit up Summer’s pretty face. “Feeling’s mutual.”
Gesturing to the countertops overflowing with food, I asked, “Can I help with anything?”
Summer sagged in relief. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”
Gio spoke to his brother. “Those papers?”
Matteo dipped his chin. “Right.” Pressing a kiss to his wife’s temple, he murmured, “We’ll be in the office.”
Summer shooed the men with both hands. “Go bond over being big bad mafia men.” There was a hint of teasing in her voice as she downplayed the dangerous nature of the world she’d found herself in by virtue of marrying Matteo.
Once the men left, I surveyed the kitchen. “So what can I do?”
Pursing her lips together, my new sister-in-law’s gaze darted about the room. “Think you can handle placing cupcakes around the base of the cake while I set up the snack platters?”
“Sure.” Sounded easy enough.
Already busy creating individual veggie-and-dip cups on a serving tray, she replied, “Great. Everything you’ll need is in boxes by the fridge.”
Moving to where I’d been instructed, I paused. “Why are there two cakes?”
“Oh, the other one is for—”
“Up!” The demand from a tiny voice was accompanied by an insistent tugging on my pant leg.
When I peeked down, my heart nearly burst at the sight of a raven-haired toddler.
“Up!” she cried again, reaching for me with grabby hands.
My eyes lifted to Summer. “May I?”
Smiling warmly at the little girl, she nodded. “You’d better do as she says. Our tiny dictator runs the show around here.”
I bent down to scoop up who I could only assume was my youngest niece. Propping her onto my hip, I gave her a little bounce. “And who might you be?”
“That would be Aurora,” Summer answered for her daughter. “And the second cake is for her. She turns two a couple of weeks after Bianca, so we’ve turned this party into a double celebration.”
“She’s beautiful,” I remarked. “And her eyes . . . they’re so unique.” One was blue, and the other was brown.
Summer explained, “Heterochromia.” Then she laughed. “That one blue iris is about all she got from me. The rest of her is all Matteo.”
Aurora definitely favored her father, both in her features and in her coloring.
It struck me suddenly that if my little boy took after his daddy, he would look like Gio.
The old Gio, not the one who had transformed his entire appearance to masquerade as John.
That would be the ultimate mindfuck; raising a miniature version of the man I hated with one who would serve as a permanent reminder of the man I’d fallen in love with, but who’d turned out to be nothing more than a conniving liar.
“Who are you?” A young voice shook me from my thoughts.
Turning around, I found a much older girl who was a dead ringer for Matteo’s first wife, Allegra.
“Bianca, this is your Aunt Rory. She’s married to Uncle Gio, your papa’s brother.” Summer made the introductions.
Her little nose wrinkled. “Papa has a brother?”
“Mm-hmm.”
I smiled at my eldest niece. “I knew you when you were a little baby. You’ve grown so much since then.”
She eyed me with suspicion. “Where have you been all this time?”
The girl was direct; I had to give her that.
“I, uh, went on a long trip, but I’m back now.” It was the most innocuous explanation I could offer. She didn’t need to hear the dirty details of what led to my departure, or the shady circumstances that forced my return.
Seemingly satisfied, Bianca’s gaze dipped to my rounded stomach. “Are you having a baby?”
My free hand fell to my bump. “I am. A boy.”
Summer chimed in, “He’ll be your little cousin. Isn’t that fun?”
“Maybe.” Bianca lifted one shoulder. She didn’t seem too keen on the idea.
A third little girl ran into the kitchen. “I LOVE babies!”
“Serafina is our little mommy.” Summer smoothed a hand over the dark hair of her middle daughter’s head.
“Can I feel?” Though she asked first, Serafina had already placed both of her palms on my belly.
I laughed at her lack of impulse control. She couldn’t have been more than four or five, and at first glance I could have sworn she had a touch of Allegra in her—though not as much as Bianca—but now I saw more Matteo. She was the perfect blend of her older and younger sisters.
She stared up at me with a frown. “Why aren’t they kicking?”
“He’s not big enough to be felt on the outside yet. Maybe soon, and you can try again.”
“Okay,” Serafina chirped, removing her touch.