31. Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty One
Lorenzo
Rain still taps lightly against the windows when the SUV turns through the gates at Mario’s house, though the steady downpour from this morning has faded to a mist that blurs the lights along the drive.
Donna sits beside me in the back seat with one hand resting on Mocha’s head. He is stretched across the floor near our feet, occasionally lifting his nose whenever the vehicle slows or turns.
Another SUV follows behind us with security.
“He's going to be okay being bombarded with so much family, right?” I ask as we approach the house.
Donna scratches behind one of Mocha’s ears. “Yeah, he loves people.”
“Babies too?” I ask, remembering my conversation with Mario this morning.
I assured him everything would be fine, but I guess I was just assuming because Mocha seems so great with everyone else; now that the moment is impending, I'm having second thoughts.
Donna catches my wary expression and gives me a look.
“I told Mario he would be,” I explain.
She looks amused. “You discussed Mocha in your family meeting?”
“He came up.”
“That's adorable.”
“My brother is concerned about introducing a German shepherd to his infant son.”
“That's even more adorable. Mario Conti, afraid of dogs.”
“Mocha can be…” I eye the giant dog at our feet. “Intimidating.”
“You're both adorable.” She leans over and gives me a smacking kiss before laughing. “Mocha loves babies. He'll be perfectly fine. They'll be perfectly fine. He will not eat them, I promise.”
“I wasn't the least bit worried,” I say with dignity.
The SUV rolls to a stop near the front entrance. The vehicle behind us pulls in several yards back, and one of my people is already stepping out before Rinaldi comes around.
Mocha sits up immediately.
Donna looks down at him. “You are about to meet a lot of people, buddy.”
“He has met several of them.”
“Not all at once.”
“I suppose that is different.”
“Exactly.”
Rinaldi opens Donna’s door, and she steps out while I come around from the other side. Mocha hops out beside her, shakes himself, then looks around the house in curiosity, no doubt prepared to sniff every inch.
Donna points at him.
“Mind your manners.”
Mocha looks at her.
“I mean it.”
His tail wags.
I glance at her. “Did he just agree with you?”
“He knows.”
“That is unsettling.”
“He’s smarter than most people.”
I can’t disagree.
They have an odd connection, these two.
She reaches for my hand as we start toward the house.
The simple gesture still catches me off guard.
It should not. She has been touching me freely for weeks now. She has slept in my bed, eaten in my kitchen, left things in my bathroom, taken over sections of my house as if she has always lived there.
But there is something different about this.
Walking into Mario’s house with her hand in mine feels more permanent than any of the rest of it.
I squeeze her fingers.
She glances at me. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That was definitely something.”
“You are suspicious.”
“I’m an investigator. I'm always suspicious.”
“Nothing to be suspicious of here.”
“Mhmm,” she says, not convinced.
“You use that excuse for everything.”
“It’s a very versatile position.”
The front door opens before we reach it, and Matteo stands there.
He looks at Donna first, then at me, then down at Mocha.
“Good. You brought the dog.”
Donna smiles. “Nice to see where I rank.”
“You’re welcome too.”
“How generous.”
Matteo steps aside to let us in, and the noise hits us immediately.
Mario’s house has become considerably louder over the past year.
There are more of us now than there were over a year ago, with the addition of Victoria, Julia, and the babies.
More voices trying to compete to be the loudest.
Add Donna and a dog to the mix, and we’re likely to take the roof off one of these nights.
I can hear Tomasso somewhere deeper in the house arguing with Dante about something. Diego’s laugh comes from the family room. I hear Alessio say something that makes Edoardo tell him to shut up, followed immediately by Alessio laughing hard.
Donna looks toward the sound. “All of you in one place,” she says a little nervously.
Donna grew up in a big Italian family as well, but based on what she's told me, it was nothing like this.
“You knew what you were agreeing to,” I say, deciding not to mention it.
“I don’t think anyone could adequately prepare for this.”
Mocha walks in beside us and pauses.
Every conversation within sight seems to stop at once.
He looks around.
Then his tail begins wagging.
“There he is,” Alessio says from the family room.
He crosses toward us before Donna has even taken off her coat and crouches to greet Mocha.
Mocha immediately accepts the attention. He's gotten very acquainted with my sons the past few weeks.
“Traitor,” Donna mutters.
“You say that every time he likes someone.”
“He’s supposed to be discerning and intimidating.”
“He is,” Alessio says, rubbing both hands over Mocha’s neck. “He just loves me.”
Edoardo comes up behind his brother.
“Move.”
“I got here first.”
“You’re blocking the hallway.”
“I’m greeting him.”
“You’ve met him.”
“So have you.”
Edoardo ignores him and reaches down to scratch Mocha behind the ears.
Mocha looks delighted by the entire situation.
I watch my sons for a moment as they fawn over the dog. As all young boys do, they begged for one of their own as children, and Gemma and I always found a reason to put it off.
First Edoardo was too young, then Alessio was on the way, and after she died, getting a dog somehow fell permanently off the list.
Watching them now, both grown men crouched in Mario’s hallway while Mocha happily divides his attention between them, I feel a stab of regret at depriving them of one when they were boys.
Donna glances at me. “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing important.”
Her eyes narrow with immediate suspicion, but before she can press me, I distract her by taking her coat and putting it away with mine.
Mario appears in the doorway leading from the family room.
His gaze goes directly to Mocha.
I grin.
He notices.
“Do not start.”
“I said nothing.”
“You were about to.”
Donna looks between us. “He's already had his fill of babies tonight.”
Mario’s eyes narrow.
Donna pats Mocha’s head. “So yours should be safe.”
I bite back a laugh as Mario stares at her.
“He can’t possibly eat another one. Look at him. He’s stuffed.” She gestures at Mocha, who is gazing up at Mario, completely unaware.
“Donna,” I say, losing the battle with my laughter.
She looks at me innocently. “What? I’m trying to make him feel better.”
“You are failing spectacularly.”
Mario shakes his head. “I am beginning to understand why the two of you get along.”
He steps aside and gestures us into the family room, where everyone else has already settled in with the comfortable sprawl that comes from being together often enough that nobody bothers with formality anymore.
Victoria is curled into one corner of the sofa with Leonardo in her arms, while Julia sits nearby with Cecilia tucked against her chest. Ricardo occupies the chair beside her, Diego is stretched out at the opposite end of the sofa, and the younger generation has claimed nearly every remaining seat.
Donna slows for half a second when she takes in the entire room at once.
I lean closer. “Still think you were prepared?”
“I never thought that,” she murmurs, though the smile tugging at her mouth says she does not mind.
Mocha, meanwhile, appears delighted by the sudden abundance of people and attention. He trots ahead of us with his tail wagging, drawing several greetings at once as Victoria looks over and smiles.
“So this is Mocha.”
Donna nods. “In all his baby-eating glory.”
Mario sighs behind us as Victoria laughs. “Please do not encourage her.”
The babies have changed considerably even in the short time since they were born. Leonardo is nearly six months old now and increasingly interested in everything happening around him, while Cecilia is still small enough that she spends much of her time tucked contentedly against Julia.
Donna has met Victoria and Julia before, but only for interviews, not in a setting where the babies were present, so her entire being softens when she sees them.
I notice because I notice everything about her now.
Victoria notices too and says, “You can come closer.”
Donna crosses toward her. Mocha starts after her automatically, then stops when she glances back and lifts one finger.
“Stay.”
He sits.
Mario watches that.
I lean closer to him. “Feeling better?”
“A little,” he says, begrudgingly.
Donna bends beside Victoria and looks down at Leonardo.
“Well, hello,” she says softly.
Leonardo stares back at her with the solemn concentration of babies meeting someone new. Then he lifts his hand toward her.
Donna looks apologetic. “I haven't washed my hands,” she says.
“That's all right, maybe later,” Victoria says, taking his finger instead.
Donna’s smile changes, going soft.
Something inside my chest tightens. The conversation with Mario this morning returns before I can stop it.
Have you ever thought about having more children?
I force the thought away almost immediately. This is exactly what I told him I would not do.
Donna and I have barely just said we love each other. I am not going to stand here and imagine babies.
That would be insane.
Victoria looks toward Mocha.
“Can he come closer?”
Donna glances back. “Sure.”
She gives a small motion with her hand. Mocha rises and walks over.
Mario shifts almost imperceptibly.
Ricardo sees it too, apparently, because he makes a small sound of amusement from where he is standing near the fireplace.
Mario glares at him, and Ricardo suddenly becomes very interested in adjusting the cuff of his shirt.
Mocha approaches Donna and stops beside her, leaning forward just enough to sniff Leonardo while keeping a respectful distance. The baby watches him with wide-eyed fascination, and after a moment, Mocha gives one slow wag of his tail before settling onto his haunches beside Donna.
Victoria smiles. “Oh, he is beautiful.”
Mocha turns his head toward her as if he understands the compliment.