Chapter 51
Nico
The kid hasn't said a word since we left the apartment.
In the building, she wouldn't shut up. Bunny this, Bunbun that, Sir Floppington the Third needs a seatbelt. But the second Liam opened the SUV door, she went silent. Pressed herself against Kristen's side like she was trying to disappear into her mother's oversized sweater.
Smart kid. Liam has that effect on people.
I watch them in the rearview mirror. Kristen's arm wrapped tight around Lily, her jaw set in that stubborn line of hers. The streetlights flash across her face as we drive and I find myself staring at details I have no business noticing.
Chestnut hair pulled back in a practical ponytail that's coming loose at the temples. Soft curves hidden under clothes that don't fit her—too big in the shoulders, too long in the sleeves. Borrowed, probably from someone twice her size.
She's beautiful.
Her beauty is soft. Is the beauty that even trying to hide it makes it imposible.
I only stare at her because I observe people.
It's what I do. I could tell you the eye color of every person in that apartment building lobby, the make and model of every car parked on her street, the exact number of steps from her door to the stairwell.
Noticing that Kristen Thomas has a body I'd like to see out of those baggy clothes is just data collection.
Nothing more.
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. Defiant. Annoyed. Like I'm the inconvenience here.
If it weren't for the kid clutching her stuffed rabbits, I would've handled this differently. A few choice words about what happens to people who refuse Sartori hospitality. A reminder that gratitude isn't optional when my family extends it.
But Lily looked at me and showed me her bunny collection like I was someone worth trusting. And kids don't trust easy strangers.
Fucking hell.
The gates swing open as we approach.
"Is this a castle?" Lily whispers. First words she's said since we got in the car. I turn back to look at her.
"No," I say.
"It looks like a castle."
"It's a house."
"A really big house." She clutches the rabbits closer to her chest. "Does a princess live here?"
Kristen's arm tightens around her daughter. "Lily, don't—"
"My sister thinks she's a princess," I say before I can stop myself. "But she's actually a pain in my ass."
Lily giggles. The sound is unexpectedly... something. I don't know. I don't have words for what it is.
Kristen stares at me like I've grown a second head. Fair enough. I don't make jokes. I don't talk to children. I don't do whatever the hell I'm doing right now. And I certainly can't talk to a toddler like that I guess.
The SUV rolls to a stop in front of the main entrance. Liam kills the engine and steps out, moving around to open Kristen's door. She hesitates, her hand finding Lily's.
She unbuckles Lily's seatbelt and lifts her daughter onto her hip, those three stuffed rabbits wedged between them. I exit my side and come around to escort them up the stairs.
The front doors open before we reach them.
And there she is. My mother standing in the doorway.
She's wearing the blue dress. The one she wore to Riccardo's funeral because he always said it was his favorite.
Jesus Christ, Ma.
"You came!" She claps her hands together, beaming at Kristen like she's a long-lost daughter instead of a stranger who tried to cancel twice. "And this must be Lily. Che bella bambina!"
Lily burrows deeper into Kristen's shoulder.
My mother has the softest heart of anyone in this family. She's the one who feeds stray cats behind the kitchen. Who cried for three days when Valentino's dog died. Who still lights candles for my father every Sunday even though—
Even though he didn't deserve her. Not even close.
The thing people don't understand about Aria Sartori is that soft doesn't mean weak.
She raised six children in this world. Buried a husband.
Buried a son. Watched another one nearly die.
And through all of it, she held this family together with nothing but sheer will and the kind of love that refuses to break.
She also manipulates every single one of us like we're chess pieces and she's playing a game only she can see.
"Pietro, darling, I'm sure you're right about the security protocols. But wouldn't it be such a shame if I mentioned this to Father Dominic at confession? You know how he worries about me being lonely..."
"Nico, sweetheart, of course you don't have to come to Sunday dinner. I'll just sit here by myself, thinking about how quickly children forget their mothers..."
She fights for things. For people. For what she thinks is right.
Animal rights, workers' rights, the rights of the gardener's daughter to attend a decent school.
She marched in protests when we were kids.
Donated to causes that made my father pinch the bridge of his nose and mutter prayers for patience.
This is why we haven't told her about Giuseppe's other family. About the children he had with her while he was married to our mother.
She loved him. Completely.
Telling her would destroy everything in her and she won't rebuild.
But right now, watching her vibrate with excitement as she ushers Kristen and Lily through the door, I realize something else.
Since Riccardo died, she hasn't done this.
She hasn't tried to take care of someone new. Hasn't reached out beyond the family. Hasn't had this light in her eyes.
My mother is a Sartori. She shows kindness the way we show everything else—with overwhelming force and the expectation of compliance.
"Come, come! I made pasta al forno, Lily, do you like pasta? Of course you like pasta, all children like pasta. And there's tiramisu for after, but only if you eat your vegetables. Nico, don't just stand there, come!"
Kristen shoots me a look of pure panic.
Welcome to the family, I don't say.
You're not getting out of this, I also don't say.
I get closer to her.
"Relax," I murmur, low enough that only she can hear. "She's not going to hurt you. She's going to feed you until you can't move and then send you home with leftovers."
"That's supposed to be comforting?"
"It's the truth."
Lily is watching my mother with suspicious fascination, still clutching her rabbits like a shield.
"Bunny, Bunbun, and Sir Floppington," my mother says, crouching down to Lily's eye level. "What beautiful names. Did you choose them yourself?"
Lily nods slowly.
"You have excellent taste." My mother holds out her hand. "I'm Aria. Would you like to see my garden? I have a fountain with fish in it."
Lily looks at her mother. Then at me. Then back at Aria.
"Real fish?"
"Very real. Orange ones and white ones and one grumpy black one who doesn't like anyone."
Lily considers this. Then she reaches out and takes my mother's hand.
Kristen makes a sound. Small, strangled, somewhere between relief and terror. Her daughter just willingly went with a stranger into a house that might as well be a fortress. A house full of people who do terrible things.
I should feel guilty about this.
I don't.
"She'll be fine," I tell Kristen. "My mother would die before letting anything happen to a child."
"I barely know your mother."
"You saved her life. That makes you a member of the family for her now."
Kristen's eyes snap to mine. "I don't want to be family."
"Too bad." I gesture toward the hallway where my mother and Lily have disappeared.