39. Dom
Dom
The dorm room is smaller than I expected. Not that I’ve been in many college dorms in my lifetime, but for what Juilliard costs, I expected something more... substantial. Still, Poppy seems thrilled, bouncing around the space, pointing out where she’ll put her books, her clothes.
“This is perfect,” she says, spinning in the center of the room.
Caleb smiles at his daughter with unmistakable pride, though I catch the shadow of sadness in his eyes. I get it, it’s never easy letting your child go, even when it’s for something as prestigious as Juilliard.
Amara stands beside me, her hand resting on her still-flat stomach. The pregnancy is too early to show, but she’s been touching her belly more often lately, a protective gesture that makes my heart ache with so much love. And it’s so deep, I never thought I’d feel this way.
Poppy approaches Amara, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m really glad my dad has you,” she says, voice lowered but not enough that I can’t hear. “You make him so happy. But I’m still not going to call you mom or anything. That’s weird, right?”
Amara laughs, the sound rich and genuine. “God, I’d be concerned if you did. We’re way too close in age for that. Being best friends works for me.”
I watch Caleb watching them, the two most important women in his life finding their way with each other.
It’s still surreal sometimes, the three of us together like this.
If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be sharing the woman I love with my best friend, I’d have put a bullet in their head for the insult.
Now, I can’t imagine it any other way.
An hour later, we sat at our table at an upscale bistro a few blocks from campus. Poppy’s gone to meet up with some other incoming freshmen, giving the three of us some privacy.
“So,” Caleb says, cutting into his steak. “Are we going to tell Poppy that her future sibling will have the most complicated family tree in history?”
Amara pats her stomach. “I’d prefer this one has nothing to do with the mafia. I want to keep him or her away from that life.”
I understand.
Though the mayor was framed by Amara for her mother’s murder, he slipped through a legal loophole.
Using his insider information about Lucia Gallo being accused of trying to kill Amara, and then he persuaded everyone that Lucia was the logical suspect in her mother’s death.
I’m just relieved the blame didn’t circle back to Amara.
Now Eduardo Gallo and his daughter Lucia have warrants out for their arrest. They’ll be detained the instant they step back on Australian soil.
That’s never going to happen.
They’ve already been dealt with, along with Mayor Anderson. He made a fatal mistake when he double-crossed me and laid hands on my Amara.
So I understand why Amara wants no connection to the mafia.
“Me too.” I reach into my jacket pocket, touching the small velvet box I’ve been carrying for days. Now’s as good a time as any.
“Before we get too deep into that conversation,” I say, placing the box on the table in front of Amara, “I have something for you.”
Her eyes open wide. “Dom, what—”
“It’s not a ring,” I clarify quickly. “Though that conversation isn’t off the table for the future.”
She opens the box carefully, revealing a plain silver key attached to a delicate matching chain.
“A key?” She looks up at me, confusion clear on her face.
I share a glance with Caleb, who nods, pressing me on. We’ve discussed this at length, and he’s fully onboard.
“It’s the key to a home in the Bahamas,” I tell her, taking a deep breath before continuing. “My mafia life is done, Amara. Over. I’ve transferred everything to Dante. He’s ready, has been for a while now. I want us—you, me, Caleb, and the baby—to spend some time in the Bahamas.”
Her fingers close around the key. “Whose home is it?”
“It’s yours, actually. Yours and your sisters’. Your mother left it to the three of you.”
Amara’s face goes still, the way it always does when her mother is mentioned. The amnesia has cleared mostly, but the emotions are still raw.
“My mother had a home in the Bahamas?”
I nod. “I mentioned wanting to get away to Lia, and she suggested it. Nobody but her knows about it. It’s somewhere private where Caleb and I can watch you and our baby as it grows inside you.
Somewhere we can all really get to know each other without the past hanging over us.
But we’re still close enough to fly back to the US if Poppy needs us. ”
“And once Poppy is settled, we can go back to Australia whenever you want to.” Caleb reaches across the table, taking Amara’s free hand. “What do you think, bunny?”
Amara chuckles as she glances between us, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “That sounds perfect,” she whispers.
I should stop there. Let the moment be beautiful, untainted. But there’s more she needs to know, more that’s been burdening me.
“There’s something else,” I breathe. “Something about your mother.”
Her expression tightens. “What about her?”
“I knew her, back in Italy. I was one of the men who helped her escape the first time, when she was pregnant with Aurelia.”
Amara gasps. “You...you knew my mother personally?”
I nod, the old guilt rising. “I did. And I hated she came back to Italy. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was determined to face down the Syndicate, to beg for them to stop killing her family.”
A tear slips down Amara’s cheek. I hate making her cry.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” she asks, voice barely audible.
“Because I failed her,” I admit. “I couldn’t protect her in the end. But I swore I’d protect you and your sisters. It’s why I moved to Australia. It’s why I helped conceal your true identities all these years.”
“I don’t remember ever meeting you before,” she whispers.
“You never have. I only talked to your father.”
Caleb looks surprised; this is one detail I hadn’t shared with him yet.
“You’ve been protecting me all this time?” Amara asks.
“From a distance, yes. You see, there have always been threats, people who suspected that Aurora Moretti had children, and those children would be the rightful heirs of the Moretti line. I made sure those threats never got close. Until I had no choice but to pull your family into my life to save you all.” I reach for her hand.
“I couldn’t save your mother, and I let Lia get too close to my world and I had to take over.
I refused to fail Aurora’s daughters. Even if it meant I had to fake marry a woman I hated. ”
Tears roll down her face, but she’s squeezing my hand back.
“So this whole time,” she says shakily, “you’ve been my guardian angel?”
I actually laugh at that. “Angel is not a word anyone has ever used to describe me, piccola.”
“You’re my angel,” she insists, looking at Caleb. “Both of you are.”
Caleb’s eyes are suspiciously damp, too. We’re all turning into sentimental fools.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat. “The Bahamas. A fresh start. What do you say?”
Amara looks down at the key in her palm, then back up at us. “I say yes. To both of you. To all of it.”
And now I know that giving up the mafia life was the right choice. I had power, respect, fear—but none of it compared to the look in her eyes right now. And for the first time in my life, I’m fully at peace with whom I am and where I’m going.
And it’s all because of her.