Chapter 53 Mara
MARA
THREE MONTHS LATER
The Folonari Christmas party is always extravagant. Gold, velvet, candles, and enough crystal to blind you if you’re standing in the wrong spot.
But tonight…everything feels different.
Maybe because this is the first time I’ve walked into this house without feeling like a trapped little girl. Maybe because I’m finally breathing again. Or maybe because Duchess is tucked into my arm like a spoiled heiress, purring like she owns the place. Which, honestly, she kind of does.
“Absolutely not,” Emiliano says the second he sees her. “The cat stays off the furniture.”
Duchess flicks her tail at him like he’s beneath her bloodline.
“Too late,” I say sweetly. “She’s already decided this is her kingdom.”
Valentina snorts from where she sits on the velvet sofa, one hand resting on her very obvious baby bump. “Leave her alone, Eli. Duchess is harmless.”
“She scratched Matteo last time,” he mutters.
“She smelled weakness,” I correct.
Valentina laughs, glowing in that annoyingly beautiful pregnant way. She waves me over, and I sink beside her. Duchess immediately climbs onto Valentina’s lap like she’s checking on the baby personally.
“Hi, little bean,” I whisper, brushing Valentina’s bump. “Your aunt is very excited to meet you.”
Valentina’s eyes soften. “You look different, Mara.”
I freeze for a moment. “Different how?”
“Happier.” Her smile tilts knowingly. “And a little terrified, which I fully understand.”
I look away, pretending to be fascinated by the three-tier charcuterie board across the room shaped like a heart. Eli’s touch for Valentina—because of course he’d have the caterers make a charcuterie board shaped like a heart and pretend he had nothing to do with it.
My thoughts drift off to my husband, who has been MIA this evening. I take a slow breath and smooth the silk of my dress, a nervous habit I may never break.
Alessia drops onto the armrest beside me. “If Duchess rips open one of these antique pillows, I’m blaming you.”
Duchess meows at her, deeply offended.
Alessia raises both hands. “Okay, okay, Queen Duchess.”
The room is warm and golden. My family is here. My sister-in-law is pregnant. There’s music, quiet and expensive. And for the first time, everything feels…safe.
Then I feel him. Before I see him. It’s ridiculous, honestly, how my body recognizes him like a shift in gravity.
I glance toward the doorway, and there he is. Black suit. Open collar. Hair slightly tousled like he ran a hand through it too many times.
His eyes find me instantly. Hungry. Careful. Like I’m the air he breathes. And God help me, my heart doesn’t just flip. It falls. He walks with slow, deliberate steps—nodding toward my brothers, Romiro, and Dominico, but never looking away from me.
Duchess meows, hopping off Valentina’s lap and trotting toward him like he’s her long-lost lover. Traitor.
Nicolo bends, scooping her up like she weighs nothing. Duchess melts into him. I swear she does it to mock me.
He stops in front of me. “Wife.”
I inhale sharply. “Don’t call me that.”
His gaze darkens. “Mara.”
He lowers himself onto the cushion beside me, keeping a respectful inch of space. It might as well be a canyon.
“You look beautiful,” he says quietly.
Valentina wiggles her brows behind him. I glare at her. She smiles like the devil she is and excuses herself to “get more juice,” leaving us alone.
Nicolo leans slightly closer. “Did you get my gift?”
I blink. “What gift?”
His jaw works. “The keys to your new car. So you can stalk me without denting the limited-edition cars.”
Oh. That.
“I did,” I say, grinning.
His gaze softens. “And?”
“And I can’t wait to test it out.”
He nods once, a small smile playing on his lips.
Emiliano appears behind us. “Dinner is served.”
Nicolo stands, Duchess still in his arms, and looks down at me with quiet devastation. “Come on. You haven’t eaten much today.”
He’s always so observant. I don’t know how he still hasn’t noticed.
During the dinner I notice Matteo's gaze drift from his fiancée, Vivian, to her sister, Cicely. And I know deep down that my warning to him didn’t work. God help Cicely, because once the Folonaris want something, they won't stop until they have it.
The limo ride back is silent, but not like the last time. This silence is warm. Careful. Hopeful. Duchess curls between us like a living buffer. When we walk through the front doors, I stop him with a hand on his chest.
“Don’t move.”
His brows lift slightly, but he obeys. Good.
I retrieve the small wrapped box I hid under the tree earlier and hand it to him, my fingers trembling despite my practiced calm.
He stares at it. “We agreed. One gift each.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not like you only gave me one gift.”
His mouth twitches—almost a smile, but softer. “Fair.”
He opens the box…and freezes.
Inside is a tiny white onesie. Simple. Soft. And in delicate gold stitching: Hi, Dad.
His breath punches out of him. He looks up, eyes wide, shattered, disbelieving.
“Mara,” he whispers. “Are you—?”
“Yes.”
A single word. But it changes everything.
He steps toward me like he’s approaching a miracle he’s afraid to touch.
“Tell me that you’re in this, one hundred percent.” I place his hand over my stomach.
His palm is huge, warm, reverent. Joy flickers in his eyes, followed by something darker. Fear. Not of being a father…but of the enemies who would use our child against him.
“I’m in this for you. For us. For our baby,” he whispers.
Nicolo closes his eyes, jaw trembling in a way I’ve never seen on him. Not even in Italy. Not even when he told me the truth of his past.
When he pulls me into him, it’s not possessive. It’s undone. Like he finally believes he’s allowed to hold something without destroying it.
“Thank you,” he breathes into my hair. “For choosing me. For giving me this. For giving me us.”
I wrap my arms around him. “Merry Christmas, Nicolo.”
He kisses the side of my head, voice breaking completely. “Merry Christmas, Mara.”
My future doesn’t scare me anymore. But the world that wants to take it from me still does.
THE END