Chapter 5 #2
“Maybe someone should,” she replies.
Her tone isn’t defiant. It’s honest. And somehow that makes it worse.
I find myself watching her longer than I should, the calm blue of her eyes a strange contrast to the chaos she’s brought into my life.
“You should go,” I say finally.
She nods and turns toward the door, but before she leaves, she glances back at me. “For what it’s worth… I think she just wants her dad. Not the Don.”
Then she’s gone, the soft click of the door the only sound left behind. I stare at the empty doorway for a long time, her words replaying in my head like an echo I can’t shake. And for the first time in years, I wonder if maybe someone’s finally seen me.
The rest of my day goes by in a blur of phone calls, meetings, and numbers that stop meaning anything after the first few hours. Through it all, Elizabeth’s words keep looping in my head. She just wants her dad. Not the Don.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Sienna’s face.
The flash of betrayal. The way she looked at me like I’d become someone she didn’t recognize.
But she understands the world we live in.
One where it does make a difference if an heir is male or female.
And if the Conti Mafia is to continue, then my heir needs to be a male.
Around three, I get a report that the girls are back at the penthouse.
They spent nearly a hundred thousand dollars in two hours.
Well, Sienna did. Elizabeth only got a few items. That’s Sienna’s way of trying to make a point.
She’s never reckless just deliberate in her defiance.
And this isn’t the first nor last time she’ll pull this stunt.
It’s fine. I’ve always preferred her anger to her silence.
By six, I’m done for the day. I head back to the penthouse to shower and change before dinner, expecting the usual chaos the Sienna brings to the house. Music, laughter, and maybe the faint smell of Rosa’s cooking.
Instead, the penthouse is quiet.
I find Elizabeth standing in the living room, gazing out at the city.
The last of the daylight glints off the windows, tracing a soft glow along her profile, making her blonde hair glow.
She doesn’t hear me at first which means I get to watch her.
She’s still in the same outfit I had Rosa send up this morning—the ivory sweater, black leggings, bare feet against the polished floor.
For a moment, it feels almost intimate, like I’ve walked into something I shouldn’t have.
“Why haven’t you changed for dinner?” I ask.
She spins around, startled. “I thought maybe you wanted it to be just the three of you.”
That would make sense. But I shake my head. “I want you there too.”
I mean it, too. I need her calmness there and not just for Sienna’s sake but mine, too.
Her brow furrows slightly. “Oh.” Then, quieter, “What should I wear?”
“Did you get any dresses today?”
“Yes,” she says, hesitating.
I nod once. “Wear a dress. See you at eight.”
I turn to leave, but something about the way she stands there unsure and out of place in a home that isn’t hers makes me pause.
Her voice breaks the silence first. “Mr. Conti?”
I glance back. She’s still watching me, cautious but curious.
“Why?” she asks. “Why bring me here instead of letting me go?”
For a long moment, I don’t answer. Because the truth is, I’m not sure I can. It would have been easier to just leave her behind. I’ve never cared about Sienna’s friends before. But seeing her in that hospital bed did something to me. It made me care, and that is dangerous.
Finally, I say, “Because you were there when Sienna needed someone. And because…” I stop, choosing my words carefully. “You don’t scare easily. That’s rare.”
Her expression softens, but her eyes search mine like she’s trying to find something I didn’t mean to reveal.
I clear my throat and straighten my cufflinks, breaking the moment. “Eight o’clock,” I remind her, before walking away.
But even as I head upstairs, her question follows me.
Why did I bring her here?
And why do I keep finding reasons to keep her close?
Dinner is supposed to be simple. A chance to smooth the edges after the morning’s chaos.
I tell myself that as I adjusted my cufflinks and step into the dining room, where Rosa has outdone herself.
Candlelight reflecting off crystal, the faint scent of lemon and rosemary lingering in the air, and the city glittering beyond the glass walls.
Fran stands near the head of the table, draped in a black satin dress that probably costs more than most people’s cars. Her hair is sleek, her jewelry understated and deliberate. She turns as I enter, smiling that soft, polished smile that photographs well.
“You’re late,” she says lightly to cover her irritation.
“I apologize,” I reply, though my eyes are already searching the room, waiting for my daughter to arrive. And Elizabeth…
Sienna appears a moment later wearing a white dress that I’m sure she purchased today, her chin high, a clear signal she’s still angry. She doesn’t kiss my cheek this time. She barely looks at Fran.
“Nice dress,” she says with a sugary tone that could rot teeth. “I saw it on clearance last year.”
Before I can intervene, I hear the sound of heels against marble.
Elizabeth steps into the room, hesitant but composed, and for a moment everything else just—stops.
The soft gold light catches on the deep green of her dress, on the delicate line of her collarbone, on the faint shimmer in her hair. It’s simple, modest even, but she wears it like she doesn’t realize she’s breathtaking. And she is breathtaking. Fuck. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman.
Fran says something to me but I don’t catch it. My gaze is locked on Elizabeth as she moves closer, every line of her body tense and uncertain, but dignified. I hate that she’s nervous.
“Good evening,” she says quietly.
I find my voice. “You clean up well, Miss Miller.”
A hint of color rises in her cheeks, and she glances down like she’s not used to compliments. “Thank you.”
Fran steps forward then, her perfume cutting through the air like a blade.
“You must be Birdie,” she says with that practiced sweetness that makes my jaw clench. “Lorenzo mentioned you were staying with them for a while.”
Funny. I never told her shit about my guest. And she already knew Elizabeth was here when she met her earlier today.
Elizabeth offers a polite smile. “Just until I can go home.”
The words hang there, sharp enough to draw blood. Sienna smirks into her wineglass while Fran’s smile tightens.
“Of course,” she says smoothly. “I’m sure it’ll be no time before you can leave. Lorenzo’s very efficient.”
“I’ve noticed,” Elizabeth replies before she can stop herself.
For the briefest second, our eyes meet across the room. I can see it in her expression. She hadn’t meant to challenge Fran, but she isn’t backing down either.
Rosa appears then, saving the moment by announcing that dinner is ready.
We take our seats. Instead of taking my spot at the head of the table, I sit in the chair to the left.
Fran slides into the chair beside me and Sienna plants herself across from her like she’s preparing for battle.
Elizabeth ends up at the other end of the table, the candlelight painting her face in soft gold.
Why did she sit so far away instead of sitting across from me?
I tell myself to focus. To listen to Fran’s chatter about upcoming charity galas and the opera. To keep the peace. But my attention keeps drifting to the quiet woman at the far end of the table who doesn’t belong here and somehow feels more real than anything else in the room.
Fran laughs at something I didn’t hear and rests her hand on mine. I murmur a polite response, but my gaze slides back to Elizabeth, who’s pretending not to notice that I’m watching her.
And in that instant, I realize something I hadn’t planned for.
Fran is the life I chose.
Elizabeth is the complication I never saw coming.