Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Elena
When I was six months pregnant, the Lombardis came to Moretti Manor.
Luca Lombardi stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in the drawing room, sunlight falling across him. Still had that unhurried air about him, coffee cup in hand. When he saw me come in, he smiled and raised his cup.
"Elena." He nodded. "Been a while."
"Yeah." I steadied myself against my lower back as I sat down on the sofa.
Dante sat beside me, legs crossed, one arm draped across the back of the sofa behind me. Looked relaxed. But his eyes stayed locked on Luca—nothing relaxed about that.
"Say what you came to say," Dante spoke first. "You didn't drive all the way out here for the coffee."
Luca set down his cup. Got right to it. "Fair enough. I heard Elena handed off that Mexico shop to Diego. And now she's getting ready to launch her own brand."
I nodded. "That's the plan."
"Perfect timing." Luca smiled. "My brand's been looking to expand into bridal and formal wear. I've got supply chains already in place, connections with the malls here in New York. I want to partner with Elena. Build this thing together."
He looked at Dante. "Mr. Moretti. You good with that?"
Dante didn't answer right away. He pulled his arm back from behind me, picked up his coffee, and took his time with a sip.
"What the hell's wrong with you?" He set the cup down, voice flat. "You've got your eye on my wife, and now you want to do business with her too?"
"Two different things." Luca raised both hands in surrender. "Besides, think about it. Our families go into business together, everyone out there sees Lombardi and Moretti are on the same side. That mess you caused at my place last time? Water under the bridge. Good for both our families, right?"
I listened. Luca had a point.
"He's right." I tugged gently on Dante's sleeve. "A partnership on the books makes the relationship between our families more solid. And my brand's just starting out. The channels and connections Lombardi's got—I couldn't build that myself in ten years."
Dante glanced at me.
"Plus," I leaned closer, softened my voice, gave it a little coaxing edge, "you're always saying you'd support my career. Now the opportunity's knocking. You're not going to hold me back, are you?"
Dante stared at me for a few seconds. Finally sighed. Reached out and tapped my nose with his finger.
"When have I ever held you back?" His voice carried a resigned helplessness. "You want to do it, do it. But—" He turned to Luca, tone cooling. "Business is business. You try anything with her, I'll set you up on blind dates. Starting next week. One a day. Until some woman drags you down the aisle."
Luca burst out laughing.
"Relax. I know my boundaries." He raised his coffee cup to me, eyes clear. "Elena. Looking forward to working together."
"Looking forward to it." I smiled back.
Dante let out a heavy snort beside me.
After Luca left, Dante set his coffee cup down hard on the table and pulled me into his arms, chin resting on top of my head.
"Not happy?" I tilted my face up to look at him.
"No." He paused. Then muttered, "Just think the way he looks at you—there's something possessive about it."
"Pretty sure you're the one with the look." I poked his chest. "I'm six months pregnant. What could he possibly still see in me?"
Dante lowered his head and brushed his lips against mine. "You look good pregnant."
That one line made my cheeks burn. I pushed him away. "You just say whatever sounds nice."
"With you, I only say what sounds nice." He said it and laughed at himself.
That night, I came out of the shower and found Dante sitting in his study. Computer screen glowing in front of him, but he wasn't looking at it. Just staring out the window.
"What's on your mind?" I walked over and wrapped my arms around his neck from behind.
He snapped back, gripping my hand on his shoulder. "Thinking about Luca."
"Still?" I sat down beside him. "He said there's nothing else to it."
"Last time I caused a scene at his place. Never went back to properly apologize. That was on me." Dante frowned. "But instead he shows up here. Asks for a partnership. Something's off."
I couldn't help laughing. "So what do you think he's after?"
Dante went quiet for a moment. Then grudgingly, "He's right. Our families need a way to smooth things over. Having you make the connection works better than me going to him."
"Then what's bothering you?"
"I just—" He paused, voice dropping. "I don't want my wife doing anything because someone's using her. Or because of some favor owed. I want every decision you make to be something you actually want."
I looked at him. Something in my chest went soft. I cupped his face in my hands, made him look into my eyes. "Then let me tell you now. I want to partner with Luca. It's what I actually want. Not because of you, not because of favors. Because I want to build a brand that's mine."
Dante looked at me for a long time. Finally pulled me into his arms, chin pressed against the top of my head. "Okay. Then do it."
"You support me?"
"I support you," he said. "From the day you said you wanted to build your own brand, I've supported you."
Dante kissed me for a while, then asked, "Why bridal?"
I paused, thought about it. "Because wedding dresses carry so many women's dreams. When I was working as a maid at the manor, I used to think—if one day I could design my own wedding dress, that would be the happiest moment of my life."
"And now?"
"Now." I smiled. "I think I'm already happy."
Dante looked down at me seriously. Moonlight fell across his face, sharpening his features.
"So what are you calling this brand?"
"Jenny," I said. "I've always wanted a daughter. I'd name her Jenny. So the brand gets that name too. If it's a boy, that's fine. Jenny's still a special name."
Dante looked at me. Long silence. Then quietly, "Good. Jenny it is."
"You think it's good?" I felt uncertain. "Not too ordinary?"
"No," he said. "It's the name you chose. The name you're giving your daughter. Even when she grows up and learns what it means, she'll be proud."
I smiled. "Then it's settled. You think of a name for a son."
"A son." Dante thought for a moment. "Matteo. My grandfather's name. Only person in the family I ever respected."
"Matteo Moretti," I said it aloud. "I like it."
"Then that's settled." He kept holding my hand, voice carrying barely hidden laughter. "One Jenny, one Matteo. Two's enough."
"What if there's three?"
"I can afford three." He looked back at me, eyes catching tiny fragments of light. "However many you have, I'll take care of them."
Days passed. My belly grew. The brand moved forward piece by piece. Luca worked fast—emails back and forth, supply chain locked down, studio location secured. First batch of collaboration designs already sitting on my work table.
When I got busy, I forgot I was about to become a mother.
Until Dante moved my work table from the third floor to the first, put a cushion behind my chair. That's when I realized he'd been watching quietly all along.
"You climbing up and down stairs with that belly—I don't like it." He stood at the bottom of the stairs, completely matter-of-fact. "You want to work at the studio, you work on the first floor. Nowhere else."
I laughed and felt touched at the same time. Let him have his way.
During that time, I sketched designs during the day. At night, Dante pushed his work off on Marco and walked with me around the manor grounds. When the moon rose, he held my hand, walked slowly, matching my pace.
The manor nights were quiet. Just crickets and wind. New York City glowed in the distance. Out here, just one light, one man, and one unborn child.
Meanwhile, I was making quiet preparations.
That wedding dress—I'd started designing it back in Mexico. Back then I didn't know what the future held. Just knew I wanted to design the most perfect wedding dress for myself. Sew in all those imaginings of happiness I'd saved up through the dark days.
White train. Medieval style. Intricate and exquisite. Every piece of lace hand-selected. Every pearl hand-sewn.
The matching suit, I tailored to his measurements. From memory—his shoulder width, his arm length. Made it stitch by stitch.
The new suit and dress sat in the studio sample room. Dante had never seen them.
After the new studio finished renovations, Dante said he wanted to see my new designs. I pulled him up to the third floor. Among rows of bridal samples, I pushed aside the middle rack. Behind it hung the dress and suit, side by side.
White train gown, intricate and elaborate, medieval styling. The suit beside it perfectly matched—noble, elegant, radiating quiet refinement.
Dante looked at them, confused, then turned to me.
I took a deep breath. Held out my hand to him.
"Mr. Moretti, will you marry me again?"
Last wedding—no Maggie, no blessings, no love between Dante and me. Now our child was almost here. The suit and dress I'd been preparing were finished. Time for this.
Dante froze. Then his expression cleared with understanding.
He pulled a ring box from his jacket. Opened it. Inside lay a ring set with an enormous blue diamond, facets smooth, refracting brilliant light.
"Elena." He looked at me, hint of a smile in his eyes. "I was planning to propose to you again. You beat me to it."
I stared, looked at that ring, nose stinging. "You... you were thinking the same thing."
"Been planning it for a while." Dante knelt down in front of me. Frowned slightly, like the position annoyed him, but when he spoke, his voice stayed gentle.
"I had the most romantic venue ready. Your favorite flowers. Your favorite cake. I was going to propose in that kind of setting."
He glanced at the suit and dress I'd made, then looked back up at me.
"But you always have these unexpected surprises. So I'll have to say this here. Elena, I'm sorry the first wedding made you unhappy. I want a chance to make it right. And I want you by my side for the rest of my life. So—"