Elena
I wake to a quiet home. The kids are with Roman and Isabella, so I can sleep in if I want to.
As I snuggle into my sheets, the scent of Luca envelops me and the events of last night return.
I shouldn’t have slept with him, and yet, how could I have refused him? Refused myself?
My hand reaches across the empty space beside me, finding nothing but wrinkled bedding where Luca should be.
Did I dream it all?
I sit up, drawing the sheet to my chest. It couldn’t have been a dream.
The dinner, his confession about planning to propose, the questions he asked about the triplets’ father, no way did I conjure that up.
"Did you love him?" he'd asked of the kids’ father. And I'd said yes, because how could I not love the man who fathered my children? But I didn’t tell him I was talking about him.
I rise from bed, my body pleasantly sore in places that haven't felt anything in years.
Every muscle remembers Luca's touch, insistent yet gentle, demanding yet giving.
In the bathroom, I brush my teeth and gather my hair in a scrunchie. Then I head to the kitchen.
Maybe it’s best that Luca left.
Our situation is complicated, just as it was seven years ago when the Vitale family accused Luca of betraying my father.
What would Aldo have done if he'd known I carried Luca's children?
The Vitale bloodline mixed with Monti blood without his blessing?
I'd made my choice to protect my children, to keep them safe from the world that killed my father.
And now Luca's back, determined to uncover truths that might still get us all killed.
And I've let him back into my bed, back into my heart, while still denying him knowledge of his own children.
I've spent years convincing myself I made the right choice.
But seeing him with the triplets yesterday, teaching them Italian, making them laugh, has brought uncertainty and guilt.
How much longer can I keep this secret?
How much longer should I?
Yes, Aldo is gone, but his loyal men are still here, still looking at Luca as if he’s the enemy. Still putting my children in the crosshairs of a family war.
As I reach the kitchen, I stop short when I see Luca in his slacks, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging loose to expose his broad, firm chest. He stands at my counter like he belongs, putting a pod into the coffee maker.
"You're still here," I blurt out, immediately regretting how surprised I sound.
He turns, one eyebrow raised. "Did you think I'd sneak out before dawn like some teenager?"
"I wouldn't have blamed you."
Luca presses the button to start the brewing process. “This is sacrilege, you know. What self-respecting Italian drinks this? Don’t you have a moka pot?” He references the metal espresso coffee pot.
“I have three kids. I don’t have time for anything but pods.”
He smirks as he takes the mug and slides it to me. "No milk, no sugar.”
“You remember.”
“I remember everything about you, Elena.” His gaze holds mine for a moment before he returns to the coffee maker, putting in another pod.
I look down into my coffee, wishing I could fix our past and we could have the life he said he’d been planning for us.
When his coffee finishes, he takes a sip and grimaces. "This is basically tar. How do you drink this every morning?"
"It keeps me alert for chasing three six-year-olds."
"I'd need something stronger." His smile fades slightly. "They're good kids, Elena."
The compliment warms me even as it ratchets up the guilt. "They are."
Luca sets his mug down and crosses the small space between us. His hands find my waist, drawing me against him.
"I missed waking up with you," he murmurs against my hair.
I should pull away. I should maintain distance. Instead, I let myself lean into him, breathing in his scent. "You were always like this. Romantic even in the morning."
"Only with you."
The intimacy of the moment threatens to undo me. This is what I've missed.
Not just the physical connection, but this easy affection most men in our world never show.
Dom, the soldiers, they're all hard edges and cold calculations. Luca has always been different.
It’s why I broke the rules and gave myself to him.
But then it all went to hell. The thought crashes through me, and I stiffen in his embrace.
I reluctantly step back from him, my hands pushing gently against his chest. The loss of his warmth leaves me momentarily unsteady.
"I should make some breakfast," I say, turning toward the refrigerator.
"I have eggs, maybe some bacon." It's a flimsy excuse to create distance, but I need space to breathe, to think clearly without his warmth clouding my judgment. His presence in my kitchen feels right, like something I could get used to again. But I can’t.
"Don't go to any trouble," Luca says, leaning against the counter as I pull ingredients from the fridge. "I actually have brunch plans with my dad and Gabriella and Marco."
The tension in his voice has me looking up at him. “It sounds like more than just a family meal.”
“It is.” He takes a sip of coffee, grimacing again at the bitterness. "I need to talk to him about retiring."
"And how do you feel about that?"
"Honestly?" Luca runs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "A part of me is excited, but mostly, I feel like I’m betraying my father by suggesting he’s not fit to lead anymore. But the business and La Corona need stability right now."
I nod, recognizing that he’s in a difficult situation. I want to hug him and make it better, but I resist the urge and instead sip my coffee.
“I never imagined that La Corona would want me here, all things considered. It shows how worried they are about someone trying to fuck things up for them.”
“Maybe they don’t believe what Don Vitale said about you.” I remember Dom’s theory that his father was behind my father’s downfall.
He arches a brow. “I’m not sure you don’t still believe it.”
I’m irked at the comment and yet I know where it’s coming from.
Yes, I slept with him, but I’m keeping him at a distance and he knows it.
“At the very least, you believe someone still believes it and therefore puts your kids at risk if I go poking around. Right?”
I turn away from him, going to make another cup of coffee. “What do you want?” I ask, changing the subject.
Luca moves behind me, his presence solid and warm at my back though he doesn't touch me. "What I want is to protect what's mine. My family. The people I care about."
I can feel he means me, and I want to turn to him and accept all that he’s offering.
“I can’t do that with the shadow hanging over me. I can't just let it go, Elena."
"I know." And I can’t blame him. "I want to support you, but my priority has to be keeping my children safe. Getting involved with you, with all this…" I gesture vaguely, encompassing the invisible threads of family business that surround us both. "It puts them at risk."
His jaw tightens. "I would never let anything happen to them."
"You can't promise that. Not if you're determined to dig into the past."
"So I'm just supposed to live with everyone thinking I betrayed your father? That I'm the reason he died in prison?" Frustration edges his voice. "Seven years, Elena. I've carried that for seven years."
“You’re not the only one who’s suffered here, Luca,” I snap as I whirl around to face him. “I lost my father. I lost you. Thank God Dom protected me.”
Luca’s brow furrows. “From who?”
I’m about to say too much. “I’m talking in generalities.”
I try to turn away again, but he catches my arm. “Who threatened you?”
I sigh. “Luca, you know how this world works. Vengeance. Hidden agendas. I’m just trying to keep my head down and my children safe. Bringing this all back up only brings back all the anger and thoughts of revenge.” I think of Gio and how he’d like to enact vengeance on Luca.
His expression shifts from annoyance to acceptance. He sees I’m not changing my mind about this.
"I should go," he says, checking his watch. "I'll call you later. How about I get pizza tonight?”
I’m surprised that he’s still wanting to come back. Does he think I’ll change my mind? He doesn’t wait for me to answer as he heads to the door, buttoning his shirt and grabbing his coat.
At the door, he pauses. "I thought after last night…" He shakes his head. "Never mind."
The annoyance in his voice is unmistakable, and I can't blame him. I'm pushing him away with one hand while clinging to him with the other.
As the door closes behind him, I sink against it, wondering how much longer I can keep my children's paternity a secret.
And what it will cost us all when the truth finally comes out.
I know I should tell him. For so long, I’ve been confident in my decision.
I still believe that it’s the only decision I could have made seven years ago.
But now, maybe it’s time to tell him.
Except, he wants to rehash everything again.
Would telling him the truth make him rethink his investigation?
Or would it push him even more, wanting to ensure his family, including his children, aren’t tainted by a false accusation?
It occurs to me that I should probably tell Dom about Luca’s determination to find who was behind my father’s arrest and murder.
I head to the shower, unable to wash away my confusion and guilt.
I dress for the cold winter air but try to be festive, pairing my dark jeans with a green sweater and holiday bell earrings.
The drive to Dom's gives me too much time to think.
What if Luca's right?
What if clearing his name is the only way forward?
But if Dom's father truly orchestrated my father's death, digging into this could endanger everyone I love.
As I enter Dom’s home, I’m reminded I still have a lot to do to prepare for the Christmas day festivities.
I wonder what, if anything, Luca will learn that could potentially create tension between the families on Christmas.
I find Dom in his study with Gio and two other men I recognize as captains. They fall silent when I enter, a conversation clearly interrupted.
"Elena." Dom's face softens slightly at the sight of me, though tension lines his forehead. "I didn't expect you today."
"I need to speak with you. Privately, if possible."
The men exchange glances before Dom dismisses them with a nod.
As they file past me, I catch a snippet of their previous conversation, something about increased security and watching the Monti borders.
Once we're alone, Dom gestures to the leather chair across from his desk.
“Why are you worried about the Montis?” I ask as I sit.
“I’m not.” He sits across from me.
“Then why did they—”
He waves my concern away. “Old guard bullshit.”
But it worries me. “Are you sure? If they think Luca was behind my father’s—”
“It’s fine, Elena. Now, how can I help you?”
I blow out a breath. “It’s actually about Luca.”
He doesn’t roll his eyes, but I imagine he’s thinking it. "What about him?"
"He's investigating my father's case."
“What?”
“He knows he’s innocent and doesn’t like walking around with the shadow of betrayal hanging over him.”
Dom's eyes narrow slightly. "And how, exactly, did this come up between you two? I wasn't aware you were… reacquainted."
Heat creeps up my neck. "Like I said, he’s investigating, and since I’m the daughter of the man he’s accused of betraying, he came to ask me questions.”
It's not entirely a lie, but the omission of our night together feels massive.
I can't tell Dom about our past relationship or how easily we fell back into each other's arms. I certainly can't tell him that Luca is the triplets' father.
“And this prompted you to come warn me? Do you think I’m in danger from this?”
“No. Maybe. You said you thought your father was involved. What if Luca figures that out? What do your men who are still loyal to Uncle Aldo do about that?”
He sits back as if he’s considering.
“Or what if his investigation attracts FBI attention? I know that’s something you’ve been concerned about.”
“Fuck. You’re right. We don’t need this right now. Luca should know better."
“You can’t really blame him. He’s been saddled with a lie.”
“We’ve all been lied about, Elena. You don’t do shit that could detonate a bomb within La Corona.” He stands and paces, his mind whirling with thoughts. Then he stops. “Could it be him?”
“Could what be who?”
“The one fucking with La Corona. The mastermind or puppeteer Roman has warned us about for years. This could be Luca’s revenge.”
“What? No.” Luca wouldn’t do that. Would he?
“Jesus, it makes sense.”
“No it doesn’t.”
“Think about it, Elena. He was wrongly accused and has had seven years to plot revenge. He knows all the players, but being in Italy, who’d suspect him?”
I shake my head. “Don’t do this, Dom. He’s been used as a scapegoat long enough.”
He tilts his head. “When did you grow fond of Luca? I always thought you blamed him.”
I look down, ashamed of how I’d treated Luca all these years. “I did at first. But like you, I had questions. If he was behind all this, why openly investigate my father’s death? Why bring attention and put a possible target on his back?”
Dom shrugs. “Fuck up La Corona.” But I can tell he thinks the reasoning is weak.
“Maybe it’s time for you to share your insights.” I didn’t come here to say that, but Luca has been carrying the burden and Dom can relieve it.
“Is that why you’re here? You want me to clear Luca’s name?” His brow furrows in intrigue more than annoyance as he sits across from me again.
“I came here to let you know what Luca was doing, but now that we’re discussing it, it seems only right.”
“What we need is peace and calm. Not just for La Corona but the families. That includes you and the kids. I made a vow to keep you and your children safe.”
What would he do if he knew they were Montis?
"I need you to stay away from Luca," Dom says, his tone shifting from protective to commanding.
"Whatever he thinks he's doing, it puts all of us, including you and the triplets, at risk.
The FBI would love nothing more than to approach you, make you seem complicit. They'd use your children as leverage."
Fear spikes through me at the thought. "I understand."
"Do you?" Dom leans forward. "Because Luca Monti isn't worth risking everything we've built for you and those kids. Whatever history you two had, and don't think I didn't notice how you avoided my eyes when I mentioned him, it needs to stay buried. For everyone's safety."
I nod, even as I don’t know how I’ll be able to comply.
My heart is engaged in a tug-of-war, one side pulling me toward Luca and the other trying to protect me by pulling me away.