Chapter 11 Angelica
ANGELICA
Waking in bed with my daughter next to me is very different from waking with Dante's arm draped over my bare body.
The memory of his touch lingers on my skin.
The way his hands moved over my body.
The way he said my name like it was something sacred.
I let myself forget everything except the heat between us and I let myself get carried away.
It lingered all day yesterday too, every time we spoke or saw each other.
While we ate dinner with our little girl… Dante is the most addictive man I've ever met and I know I need to keep my distance or I'm going to be set on fire by nothing more than his smile.
It's toxic, and the world he's living in isn’t safe for me or my little girl.
Morning brings clarity like that, reminding me that Dante is a criminal.
That sleeping with him doesn't change who he is or what he does.
It only drags Sofia and me deeper into his orbit.
I slide out of bed carefully so I don't wake her, and I dress in jeans and a sweater and then gently shake Sofia awake.
She blinks up at me with sleep still in her eyes, and I smile at her warmly.
"Time to get up, Amore."
She yawns and stretches. "Do we have to?"
"Yes. We have things to do today."
She sits up and rubs her eyes.
Her hair is a tangled mess which I have to spend twenty minutes brushing and braiding.
Then I help her dress and we walk downstairs together.
The villa’s quiet this morning.
Marta's in the kitchen preparing breakfast and she smiles when she sees us.
"Good morning. I made fresh bread and jam."
"Thank you," I tell her, letting my mouth water over the spread. "It looks delicious"
"Can't I just have cereal?" Sofia whines, clearly not happy about being out of bed already.
"Sofia, please," I chide gently, noticing Marta chuckle.
"Children are so innocent, aren't they?" she asks, and I shake my head and smile.
We eat in the kitchen while Sofia talks about the cookies we made yesterday and asks if we can eat those for breakfast instead of jam and toast, but I encourage her to choose the breakfast Marta has already prepared.
I'm working up the courage to approach Dante and ask if I can have a trip to town for a bit of shopping when he enters a few minutes later.
He wears dark jeans and a black sweater that makes him look less intimidating than usual.
He looks at Sofia and smiles softly.
"Good morning," he says. It's such a striking difference from the way I picture him.
It feels foreign to imagine a man who can kill so easily and yet in the same breath be so gentle.
"Good morning," I reply.
He walks to the table and crouches down beside Sofia.
"What are you eating?"
"Bread and jam. It's yucky," she says.
She holds up the plate to show him. "See… Mama won't let me eat cookies."
"But it looks delicious…" His eyes flick up to meet mine, and I roll my eyes at him.
Sometimes, she just gets in a mood and all you can do is ride it out.
He'd know that if he weren't a Mob boss and too scary for me to have brought him into her world earlier.
She beams at him.
"Can I go see the Christmas tree?" she asks proudly, but I scowl at him, and he gets the point.
"Of course. Right after you finish eating," he tells her and winks at me, then stands while she starts sulking again.
He walks over to sit by me, and I notice that I’m not tensing or cringing the way I was a few days ago.
Then I rationalize to myself that we had sex, so it broke the ice, but that doesn't mean anything, right?
He's still him and I'm still me.
Worlds apart and not compatible at all.
But it's at least more comfortable being in the same room with him now.
"I wanted to ask you something," he says.
"What?"
"The weather's above average. It'd be good for Sofia to get some fresh air."
I study his face but I'm not catching on.
"Do you want to take a walk in the garden?"
Sofia hears that and cheers immediately, and I sigh and grumble.
I wanted to get permission to go to town, and that'd put us later in the day to get started, but if I get the guts to ask him while we're walking, maybe it will loosen him up a bit.
"All of us?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at Sofia, who's celebrating too much for the amount of breakfast she's eaten.
"Yes. All three of us."
I don't know what to make of this.
Dante proposing family traditions feels strange.
Almost manipulative.
But when I look at his face, I don't see deception.
I see sincerity and warmth.
And I hate myself for noticing.
"Alright," I say. "We can take a walk."
Sofia cheers again, louder this time, and slips off her seat without asking to be excused.
She runs upstairs to get her shoes while Dante and I walk to the living area waiting for her.
We don our jackets, but he's awkwardly silent, and when he moves closer and his arm brushes against mine, the contact sends a spark of heat through me.
I step away and cross my arms.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
"I'm fine."
"You don't seem fine."
"I'm just tired."
He doesn't press me, but his eyes are studying me.
It's like he thinks fucking me changed something between us.
It didn't.
Sofia comes running back down the stairs with her shoes on and Dante helps her into her jacket.
We walk through the villa and out into the garden where the air is warm for December.
The sun sits high in the sky and feels nice on my skin.
I can't remember such a warm start for winter before, but it's not unpleasant.
Sofia runs ahead of us and stops to examine the rosemary shrubs, picking a few sprigs.
She brings them back to show Dante.
"Marta says rosemary is good for cooking," she says. "Can we use these?"
"Yes. Give them to Marta when we go back inside."
Sofia squeals in happiness and runs away again, back to pluck more sprigs of Rosemary.
And Dante and I continue walking.
He keeps his hands in his pockets, and I keep my arms crossed.
"She's happy here," he says.
"She's a child. Children adapt quickly." I hate to admit that I've never seen her happier.
This is a life I couldn’t give her.
I feel bad for wanting to take her home.
"That's not what I mean. I mean she's comfortable. She's not afraid anymore."
"That's because she doesn't understand what you do. She doesn't understand the danger we're in."
He looks at me.
"Do you?"
"I'm starting to."
"What does that mean?"
I stop walking and turn to face him.
"It means I've been overhearing things. Conversations between your guards.
Phone calls you take in your den. I know you're fighting a war.
I know your enemies are closing in and we're not just guests here.
" Someone is trying to use us and I don’t care for it.
"I feel like we're nothing more than leverage. "
His jaw tightens.
"You're not leverage. You're under my protection."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference is that I would die before I let anyone hurt you or Sofia. Leverage is expendable. You're not."
The intensity in his voice catches me off guard.
He means what he's saying.
I can hear it in every word.
It's sort of moving the way he wants to defend us, and chivalrous in a way too.
I soften but I stop myself from smiling.
"Why do you care so much?" I ask.
"Because you're the mother of my child and I spent six years wondering what happened to you. Having you here feels right."
Sofia calls to us from farther down the path, breaking the trance I'm in.
She's standing in front of a stone bench near the fountain, and she waves for us to come see something.
Dante and I walk over together and she points at the bench.
"Look. Someone carved initials here."
I lean down to see.
The initials are faded but still visible.
Two letters intertwined with a heart around them.
I look at it curiously and wonder myself what it means.
This is Dante's private villa, but from what I can tell, it was likely his father's before him, and maybe his grandfather's before that.
"Who do you think they were?" Sofia asks.
"I don't know," Dante says.
"Maybe two people who loved each other a long time ago."
"That's so sweet," Sofia says.
She looks up at him. "Do you believe in true love?"
Dante looks at me and then back at Sofia.
"I believe in protecting the people who are important to you."
"That's not the same," Sofia says.
"You're right, Piccola."
He tousles her hair, and she scowls then shrugs and runs off to explore another part of the garden.
I watch her for a long moment and wonder if I have an answer for her that would satisfy her.
Love is a tricky thing, not something you choose, but something that springs upon you like the first rays of light in the morning.
You don't create it, but by it, you see clearly.
That thought warms my heart, and Dante clears his throat as if trying to get my attention.
We sit down on the bench and I sigh softly.
"She's getting attached to you," I say.
"Is that a bad thing?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Why?"
"Because if we leave, it'll break her heart. And if we stay, she grows up in a world where violence is normal. I don’t like the idea of that."
"I'm working on making it safer," he says.
"I'm working on ending this war before Christmas. If I can eliminate the threats, then Sofia won't have to grow up in fear."
"And if you can't?"
I turn to look him in the eye, wondering if he could actually pull it off or if this world will just suck him back in.
He doesn't just kill people.
He runs illegitimate businesses, trades in drugs.
It's all tied too closely together.
"Then I'll figure something else out. But I won't let her get hurt. I won't let either of you get hurt."
His profile is sharp against the sunlight as he watches Sofia run and giggle.
What I wouldn’t give to believe every word of that is true.
But I know all too well that life can take a turn you never want it to and you're just left to deal with the consequences.
"Your protection feels necessary now," I admit. "After everything I've overheard, I know we wouldn't be safe if we left. But that doesn't mean I like being here. It doesn't mean I'm comfortable with this situation."
"I understand that."
"Do you?"
"Yes. You want your daughter to have a normal life. You want to go back to Naples and forget any of this happened. But that's not an option anymore. My enemies know about you. They know about Sofia. Running won't keep you safe. Staying here will."
"For how long?"
"Until Christmas. Maybe longer. I'm working on it."
Sofia runs back to us with more rosemary in her hands.
She sits down on the bench between Dante and me and smells the herbs and makes a happy sound.
"These smell so good," she says. "Can we put them in the presepe?"
"What presepe?" I ask.
"The one we're going to make. Marta said every Italian home has one for the holidays. She said we could make ours together."
I look at Dante. He shrugs. "Marta mentioned it to me yesterday. I told her it was fine."
"So we're doing Christmas traditions now?" I ask, but Dante never answers me.
We sit in the garden for a while longer.
Sofia eventually returns to our side and talks about the Nativity scene and what figures she wants to include.
Dante listens and asks questions.
I watch them interact and feel my heart gradually opening up to the idea that maybe I could trust him to do as he says.
I am beginning to grow fond of the idea of Sofia having a father.
Even if that father is mixed up in the criminal underworld.
She deserves to know her father and have someone who looks at her the way Dante does.
Someone who listens to her chatter and responds with affirmation and affection.
But I don't know if I can accept the cost.
I don't know if I can live in this world permanently and watch Sofia grow up surrounded by Dante's evil aura.
Dante stands and holds out his hand to Sofia.
"Come on. Let's go inside and show Marta the rosemary you collected."
Sofia takes his hand and they walk back toward the villa together.
I follow behind them and watch the way Sofia skips beside him.
The way she looks up at him with trust and affection.
The way he shortens his stride to match hers.
This is what I feared, what I tried to prevent by keeping Sofia away from him for six years.
She's falling in love with the idea of having a father.
And once she loves him, she won't want to leave.
He wants us to stay.
He wants to build a family with a woman he barely knows and a daughter he just met.
And the terrifying part is that some small part of me wants it too.