Chapter 16
16
Valentine
T he three of us see the exact moment my overly passionate, slightly grandiose speech becomes too much for her to take.
I blame my Italian heritage for making my speech more dramatic than needed. At the same time, I think Ariana needs the pomp and ceremony. She needs the big, bold declarations and the huge reveals because she’s been mistreated and let down by life, time and time again.
She sways on her feet before crumbling. Dante does a superman leap, narrowly avoiding the snapping teeth of a protective Bella, to catch our wife. But, smartly, he recognizes how protective the Doberman is, and he positions himself so Bella can see he’s not harming her in any way.
Sudden scratching from dog nails gouging a path is the only warning we get that Edward is about to join the chaos. The whole situation is about to descend into bloodshed until Dante starts repeating “Jacob” over and over.
I shouldn’t laugh at my wife programming her protection dogs with the safety word Jacob , but once I start, it’s hard to stop. Considering the strange day we’ve had, the laughter spills out of me in relief. Sure, some of the drama from today I brought on myself, but I’ve been beyond stressed. There was a risk that despite us knowing she was our scent match, we might not have been hers. Although judging by her reaction, I think we all can safely assume, Layne feels the same way we do.
And we did know she’s ours. From the instant Matteo walked back into our home, stood in our elevator and infused the space with Ariana’s unique, barely concealed caramel scent, my brother—in name only—proved he had found the missing piece of my existence while also inadvertently confirming the concept that fate is as real as a heart attack.
Obviously fate has a dark sense of humor, because the twisted threads of destiny weaving Ariana’s and Pack De Luca’s future path together started years ago, when she was born to a family whose sole mission in life is to destroy ours.
Proving our loyalty and devotion to Ariana will be the test of our relationship. But that’s what guns and violence are for.
“Can we call Ronnie back to pick these dogs up yet?” Dante chuckles from where he sits on the floor still, our wife in his arms.
Ronnie is one of our own, having worked with our pack since he arrived from Sicily with one of our cousins years ago.
“Once she’s awake, maybe. But I want her to feel in control,” Matteo says quietly, his eyes roving over her, making sure she’s okay. Matteo, ever the diplomat. “Take her to her room, Dante, and don’t climb into her bed with her.”
“She needs to know she’s not alone,” my brother insists, voicing the words I was about to say. He looks at me and winks, because he knows I was thinking about it too.
“The dogs will do that.”
Dante rises effortlessly with her in his arms, despite the dogs pressing their muzzles into her. He whistles, and I shouldn’t be surprised my brother knows all the commands to control the dogs. But I still watch, amused, as the dogs take position, one at the front, one at the back to shadow each step he makes.
Matteo doesn’t follow. Instead, he goes to the fridge for a plate of food he already assembled—dry crackers, small slithers of apple, handmade chocolate truffles.
“You’re spoiling her,” I comment, merely me talking aloud, making an obvious statement.
“Correct. If it wasn’t me, it would be you. We really fucked up, Val.”
I rock back on my heels angrily.
But it doesn’t take long for me to mentally concede. In a lot of ways, she’s making us softer. She’s already made Dante more cinnamony than a roll from Cinnabon, but I also know there is nothing wrong with him becoming lighter for her.
We’ve done everything asked of us in our work life. Our illustrious career is full of deep scars, and there is no doubt my twin suffered the majority of Vitale’s cruelty. His only sin was being born after me, something Vitale has always held against him.
It’s lucky we were the babies of the family, because we got the unchecked attention of the De Luca women, the real drivers of our success. When Vitale and his sons were scheming and trading blood for turf and titles, our nonna was promising us, in whispered words, that she’d seen change coming and pushed us to be ready.
She also said land and money could be taken, but the other half of our souls, the love of our lives, is what we will go to war for.
I never got it, until now. Even in lust with my wife, I’m a goner. I’ll be a mess when that lust evolves into love. It’s inevitable, too, because Ariana makes me feel alive. She challenges me to be better, and our pack will become everything she needs because Ariana De Luca will need protection.
She will be viewed as a Trojan horse by every person in our universe and probably for the rest of her life. It makes sense that Matteo, Dante, and I will step up and be her Spartacus. I seriously don’t give a fuck that all my ancient histories are mixed up. The moral of my references are clear as fucking day—we will protect her with everything we are.
We just need to prove it to her before she either kills us or disappears without a trace.