Page 92 of Auctioned To Her Dad's Mafia Enemies

I glance at Antonio, who sits beside me, hislarge, warm hand resting possessively on my thigh. Across from us, Alexis humsalong to the music playing softly through the car’s speakers, his usualcarefree smirk in place. Luca, ever the composed leader, watches me carefully,his piercing blue eyes searching my face for any sign of discomfort.

Andre and Vito drive us, but this time, I’mnot filled with terror, just trepidation.

“I haven’t been here in years,” I murmur, moreto myself than anyone else.

“You’re home now,” Luca says simply, his handreaching out to take mine.

Home.

The thought settles deep inside me, an emberof warmth in my chest. It’s strange to think that, after everything, I belonghere. Not as an outsider, not as a pawn, but as a part of this family.

Or, at least, I will be if Signora Venturiapproves.

When the car stops in the circular driveway, Itake a steadying breath. The doors open, and I step out into the crisp eveningair. Rosita and her husband, freshly returned from their honeymoon, are alreadywaiting on the front steps. Her face breaks into a wide smile, and withinseconds, she’s pulling me into an expensive-scented but real hug.

“I knew they would rescue you,” she whispersagainst my ear, and I can’t help but laugh softly, holding her tight. The yearsbetween us slip away until we’re just two little girls with foolish romanticdreams of a future as wispy as the fog at dawn.

“You remember that?”

“Of course. You could never choose which oneof my brothers to make your knight in shining armor.”

I laugh softly, glancing over my shoulder atmy three gorgeous, but frankly a little terrifying, men. “Choosing between themwas never an option.”

She pulls back and winks. “This is RaphaelRusso, my husband.” She holds out her hand for the handsome groom I rememberfrom her wedding. They have similar features and suit each other so much. Ilaugh as we kiss each other on each cheek.

“Pleased to meet you, Aemelia,” he whispers,remaining close. “It’s good to have someone else take over the focus of thefamily. Less pressure.”

I chuckle as he releases me, and Luca quicklyrests his hand on my spine to guide me inside.

Inside, the house is just as Iremember—elegant, warm, alive with the quiet hum of tradition. The scent ofsimmering sauce wafts through the air, and my stomach twists with a familiarlonging.

Signora Venturi stands in the center of thegrand dining room, her back straight, her sharp blue eyes—Luca’s eyes—assessingme the moment I enter. She’s always been an imposing figure despite her shortstature, but now, as I stand before her as the woman in her sons’ lives, theweight of her judgment feels heavier.

“Welcome back, Aemelia,” she says, her tonepolite but cool.

I dip my head respectfully. “Thank you,Signora Venturi. It’s good to be here again.”

Her gaze flicks to her sons, watching asAntonio helps me remove my coat, Alexis brushes a loose curl behind my ear, andLuca, her most guarded son, places a steadying hand on the small of my back. Somethingshifts in her expression, but she says nothing.

Dinner is a quiet affair at first. The tableis long, grand, and filled with food that reminds me of my childhood. Antonio,as always, serves my plate before his own, making sure I have everything Ineed. When a glass of wine is slightly out of reach, Alexis leans over andhands it to me without a word. Luca keeps his hand around my shoulder, histhumb stroking absent patterns over the fabric of my dress.

Their mother watches it all, missing nothing.But it’s not until later, when I insist on helping clear the table, thatsomething changes.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says,watching as I gather plates.

“I want to,” I tell her honestly. “I know whatit means to take care of a family.”

She studies me for a long moment, then nods,stepping aside to let me help. In the kitchen, as we work side by side, Ifinally find the courage to say what’s been sitting in my heart.

“I love them,” I confess, my voice quiet butfirm. “I know this situation is... unconventional, but I don’t care. They’vegiven me something I never thought I’d have. Safety. Love. A place to belong.And I will give them everything I am. Love. Affection. A family. A place to behappy.”

She says nothing, rinsing a dish beforeplacing it on the drying rack.

“I know who they are,” I continue. “I’m youngbut not foolish. This life… I’ve seen the worst of it and come through. I willstand next to them when things get tough. I’ll do my best to guide and supportthem.”

She nods, continuing to scrub a particularlystubborn pan.

“With my mother and aunt back in Maryland andmy brother in rehab, I need a family,” I continue, my chest tightening. “I wantthat family to be you. And Rosita. If you’ll have me.”

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