21. Amara
AMARA
HIS WORLD MY WAR
F amily day at the Borrelli mansion is nothing short of chaos wrapped in warmth with an endless number of hugs, numerous jovial greetings, and barbed one-liners that are affectionately given. The conversation never stalls. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of this family?
The scent of fresh bread wafting in from the kitchen makes my mouth water. The fireplace crackles now and again, casting a golden glow over the space where everyone has gathered. It’s overwhelming, but in a way that makes me feel… something I shouldn’t.
Like I belong.
I sit on the plush couch with a glass of wine in my hand, watching the madness unfold. Lorenzo, Matteo, and Alena’s son is over a year old but has already mastered the art of getting into everything. He toddles forward with his chubby arms outstretched and aims straight for Pietro’s leg.
“Look at him go,” Bianca grins from across the room. “Already making moves like a true Borrelli.”
Pietro smirks, scooping his nephew up into his arms, and they rub noses until Lorenzo laughs. He does this with an ease that makes my chest tighten. “Are you causing trouble already, little man?”
Lorenzo babbles something unintelligible, reaching for Pietro’s face. He catches the tiny hand in his, and the sharp contrast in size is noteworthy. “Gotta learn some words first, kid. Then we’ll talk,” he jokes.
Marcella, Niccoló, and Siobhan’s daughter is nestled in her mother’s arms, only stirring when someone gets too loud.
Siobhan bounces her gently, smiling down at her daughter before glancing at me.
I pick up on the fact that she cautiously keeps an eye on her son, Massimo, who sleeps in a Pack and Play in the corner of the room. It’s obvious they are twins.
“Is this your first real Borrelli family day?” she asks in a low tone.
I nod. “I think so.”
She smirks. “Let me guess—you’re wondering how the hell I ended up in this insanity.”
I laugh softly and smile. “Something like that.”
She tilts her head toward Pietro, who is now trying to dodge Lorenzo’s attempts to grab his ear. “You get used to it. And then, one day, you don’t want to be anywhere else.”
I swallow, but have to look away. The idea of that—of wanting to stay is too dangerous to entertain.
Alena walks in from the kitchen with appetizers, and she rolls her eyes at Federico, who’s standing over the bar like he’s conducting a damn symphony. He turns to walk outside to check dinner.
“The lamb is ready when you stop micromanaging it, Federico,” she says sternly, but she can’t pull it off. The camaraderie between them is genuine.
Federico scoffs. “Do you want it perfect, or do you want it fast?”
Matteo grins as he nudges Niccoló. “He’s been saying that for years.”
Pietro walks over to where I’m sitting with Lorenzo in his arms, his tiny hand holding onto his shirt. He drops onto the couch beside me, and the warmth of him immediately seeps into my body. He’ll make a great father one day.
“Looks like I’ve got a new shadow,” he says, nodding at the toddler who is trying to grab his neck .
I smile, reaching out to tickle Lorenzo’s foot. “He’s obsessed with you.” Then he surprises me when he hands him to me.
Lorenzo is an energetic child, and I melt under his bright blue eyes, as drool seeps from his mouth. “He’s teething.”
“Yes, and it’s miserable for him,” Alena interjects from across the room.
Pietro hands Lorenzo to me. “Do those little teethies hurt you?” I don’t know why I’m speaking babyish gibber like an idiot.
Lorenzo warms to me and begins to babble.
“I’m listening,” I reply, speaking to him like he’s an adult. He blows a raspberry and reaches for my nose.
Pietro observes me and says, “You’re good with him.”
I shrug, trying to keep my voice casual. “I like kids.”
“Would you want one?”
I pause, glancing up at him. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something serious beneath the surface.
“Yes, someday,” I say softly.
His fingers brush mine, just barely, but I feel the weight of it—the unspoken words, the possibility of our future unfolding.
And it breaks my heart a little more knowing that I must leave this behind.
Longing, wanting, and desiring a loving family is something that I’ll never know. Just being here is playing with fire. The two of us, our warring families—it’s dangerous.
“We’ll have to make that happen,” he whispers into my ear. “I’m going to get you pregnant.”
My pussy clenches. I’d love to have his baby.
“That’s a dangerous vow you’re making,” I add wistfully.
“I thrive on danger.”
Niccolò, upon hearing us, states, “Before you get carried away, remember we had twins.” He chuckles.
I didn’t realize he overheard us. To me, the Borrelli family is loving and oddly normal. This mansion isn't just a structure of stone and opulence—it's a sanctuary. A place where the word home carries weight, and it’s stitched into every corner like an unspoken promise .
The walls echo with banter, the kind that only comes from souls who know each other down to the bone—all their quirks and deepest desires.
Laughter spills like sunlight through elaborate curtains.
It’s effortless and unrestrained. It’s not light is not from the marble fireplace that glows, or the sparkling chandeliers, but from the people who warm the halls.
They argue. They tease. They protect.
And in between it all… There is love. Fierce, messy, undeniable love—the kind that doesn’t flinch when the world outside turns cold.
This place… this family ... It’s more than bricks and blood.
It’s everything.
And I long to be a part of it.
But it’s not meant to be my world. Life is cruel for me to get a glimpse of the perfect life before I submit to my father’s demands. It’s just not fair.
None of this is fair. But I find solace in the fact that I’ll spare Pietro’s life, even if it costs me mine.
Matteo sets the tone for the family, and even though I know he’s a dangerous man, one wouldn’t know it by how he interacts with his family. This home is a testament to that. It’s a haven where they come together regardless of what might be happening in the dark world beyond its walls.
I observe Matteo as he looks at his wife. There’s so much love in his eyes that I avert my eyes because I feel I’m an intruder. I turn to Pietro, and he’s looking at me the same way, like I’m his. And it takes all my willpower to hold back tears.
They accepted me and welcomed me with open arms. No one mentions my father, and no one is judging me. This is the life I wanted for myself, but that’s not going to happen. Today is the only day I have with them.
I’m relieved when dinner is announced, as the endearing family moments overwhelm me. We gather around a huge family table. Matteo uncorks champagne. But that’s not all, the middle of the table is punctuated with numerous bottles of wine that cost a fortune.
The long dinner table is a place where the family continues to banter, and the camaraderie between the siblings is evident in the way they nudge each other and make jokes at each other’s expense.
The platter of rosemary lamb circles, and I pile my plates with roasted lamb, cornbread stuffing, and mashed potatoes. The side salad mocks me. I plan to save room for the warm apple pie that sits on the buffet table.
Matteo says grace, and we all dig in, and if the day couldn’t get any better, Federico joins us. He’s not just a hired butler and chef, he’s family.
After dessert, everyone retires to the solarium where Grappa and Frangelico are served.
By evening, my belly is full and I’m exhausted. There were so many warm moments that warmed my heart in ways I couldn’t have imagined. I’m happy but tired, and I lean my head against Pietro on the way home and drift into a peaceful slumber.