Page 159 of Thorns of Death
The voices of her siblings pulled her attention, and she darted through the French doors and joined them. If the DiMauro family didn’t show up soon, my children’s clothes would be covered in dirt.
“We’re going to have our hands full with the young,” Manuel said, chuckling as we both made our way out the door to join the family in the garden.
My eyes found my wife instinctively. Her red hair wild in the breeze, among the smell of the sea and lemon trees, our gazes met. It was a punch in the gut. Just the way it was the first time I saw her.
I went over to her and kissed her, placing my hand on her barely rounded belly. “Amore mio, you take my breath away every time.”
She grinned, her eyes shining lighter under the blue sky. “As long as you don’t stop breathing.”
She still played the violin almost every day. She performed at the local orchestra and even taught music at the local high school. She helped run the Marchetti legal empire too. I didn’t know where I’d be without her. I didn’t even want to imagine it.
“Ti amo, dolcezza.” I brushed my mouth against her ear. “You have given me peace. Happiness.”
“And you have given me family,” she murmured. “I love you too.”
Romeo and Iryna joined us along with Inessa. If Enzo and Amadeo were here, our family would be complete.
“Why do we have to have dinner with strangers?” Romeo grumbled, grabbing a handful of grass and throwing it at his sister.
I knelt down so we’d be eye to eye. “They won’t be strangers for long.”
He grabbed a handful of dirt this time and threw it in the air, creating a dust cloud overhead.
“Romeo,basta.” Isla’s stern voice scolded our son, warning him to stop. “You’ll be a mess by the time our guests arrive.”
He brushed his hands on his pants and Isla groaned, putting her hand on her forehead.
“Che cazzo,” she hissed. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning. My wife had gotten really good at cursing in Italian. In fact, she’d perfected it so well, I was convinced she swore better in Italian than English. “Romeo, get your little butt here. Now.”
“There they are!” Iryna exclaimed as a car pulled up in front of the gate. The guards approached the vehicle, assisting Luca and his family.
Iryna rushed to the gate, so eager to see new people, she climbed it and waved like she’d known them forever. “Hello,” she yelled. “I’m Iryna.”
Just like Inessa, she was too curious and too friendly.
I rose and shoved my hands in my trouser pockets, making my way to the gate with my wife by my side. My holster under my suit jacket, I studied Luca and his family. Just like mine, his had expanded over the years.
It was only then that I noticed my wife was barefoot, but there was no time to say anything about it because Luca stood in front of me.
“Luca,” I greeted him. “Thank you for coming.”
He tilted his head. “Marchetti.” My gaze found his wife, Margaret. “Mrs. DiMauro, nice to see you again.”
“You too.” She smiled, her oldest daughter by her side and a small boy on her hip. Luca held a little boy’s hand who looked to be Romeo’s age.
Margaret’s eyes darted to my wife. “My wife, Isla. And our children. Romeo. Iryna who already introduced herself. And Inessa. Enzo and Amadeo are not here.”
I could have sworn Margaret breathed a relieved sigh.
“Damiano is my eldest son,” Luca answered before tilting his chin at the boy that Margaret held. “Armani. And our Penelope.”
I’d bet my life that he’d have preferred to keep Penelope hidden. She seemed to favor her mother’s looks more than her father’s. Thank fuck! Luca wasn’t pretty at all. She was younger than Enzo by a good nine years. After all, Enzo and Amadeo attended their wedding.
“Welcome to our home.” There weren’t too many I invited to my castello. Luca knew it, and I hoped he’d see it as a symbol for our future. Together or not.
It was Luca who broke the tension, his eyes lowering to Isla’s feet.
She followed his gaze and grinned. “My feet are killing me,” she murmured. “It would seem my husband prefers me barefoot and pregnant.” Then she extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Luca.” Then she bent slightly. “And you, Damiano. I really like your name.”
