Page 51 of Sins of the Father
Luc didn’t flinch. “I want the power it holds.” His intense gaze burned into her. “But I want you safe. That is the only thing that outweighs it.”
Mia smiled. “I see.”
In a decisive motion, she placed the watch into his hand, their skin brushing as he closed his fingers around it, sending a current through the still air.
“Then keep it,” she said softly. “Promise that you will not harm my family, and it will indeed be a bloodless takeover.”
“You still protect them.”
“I see the disapproval in your eyes,” Mia murmured. “But it might have been only one man who made that choice. My cousins and aunts should not suffer for it.”
“I will ensure their safety.”
He stepped closer until the space between them vanished. Her breath caught as the heat of his body enveloped hers. When his hand slipped around her waist, his touch was firm, possessive, and unbearably gentle all at once. Her pulse fluttered beneath her skin.
He drew her in, his scent—dark spice and danger—filling her senses. When his lips brushed hers, the kiss was fleeting, yet it stole her breath and left her trembling. Her heart ached at the tenderness she had not expected.
He lifted his head, his gaze lingering on her mouth. “Get some rest,mia colombina,” he murmured, his voice roughened by restraint.
Then he turned and walked from the room, leaving behind the echo of his warmth.
Mia sank onto the bed, her limbs weak. The watch was gone, yet she didn’t feel the heavy emptiness she’d feared. Instead, she smiled faintly, her lips still tingling, and drifted into sleep with the taste of him lingering like a promise.
In the weeksfollowing the attack, Mia settled into a simple routine. She insisted on training, even when the bruises on her body ached. She practiced with her gun until she could hit the center of a target every time. Luc’s world was dangerous, and she wanted to be ready for whatever it demanded of her—even if, at times, she felt like an ant daring to fight wolves.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her face to the sun, letting its warmth wash over her as her toes sank deeper into the sand. Mia had begun venturing outside again, determined not to livein fear or keep glancing over her shoulder, expecting another attack. Luc had told her he would inform her family that he now possessed the information her father had left behind. If they still wanted it, they would have to come for him directly. Mia couldn’t help but wonder—would that be enough to stop them, or did they still intend to kill the mother of the potential heir?
A shout behind her made her turn around, but she saw no one but the two bodyguards assigned to her. For a moment, she had hoped it would be her husband. There was a shift in their relationship, one she did not yet fully understand. Mia hardly saw him these last few weeks. Luc, respecting the chasm the attack had opened, had left for Naples.
“Business,” Rosina had said, arranging blood-red roses in the foyer.
“He asks about you every day, you know,”Rosina had mentioned one afternoon, matter-of-fact, not pushing.
“I know,” Mia said, and she found she didn’t mind.
With Luc gone, Mia found herself spending more time with her mother-in-law. Rosina had drawn her into a close circle of women—socialites, philanthropists, art patrons—who sipped espresso while debating Renaissance techniques and dined in candlelit villas overlooking the sea. Mia attended their dinners, learned their grace, and held her own among the wives of powerful men. Yet, beneath her polished smiles, loneliness lingered like a shadow.
She wandered along the shore now, the sun low and golden on the horizon. The sea breeze tangled in her hair, and warm sand shifted beneath her bare feet, grain by grain, grounding her even as her heart felt hollow. The salt air tasted of memories of Luc.
A rush of longing tightened her chest. Before she could second-guess herself, she unlocked her phone and dialed his number.
“Mia.”
Luc’s voice came on the first ring—deep, steady, and achingly familiar. Her pulse stuttered.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.” Her answer came out softer than she intended. She caught the murmur of male voices in the background, low and authoritative.
“Gentlemen,” Luc said, his tone turning sharp. “We’ll end this meeting and resume later.”
Mia’s heart squeezed. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, realizing he’d answered in the middle of business, likely thinking she was in danger. Warmth spread through her chest, melting something tight inside her. “I shouldn’t have interrupted your meeting.”
“You can call me anytime.”
Silence followed, heavy but tender. The sound of his breath in her ear made her close her eyes. She imagined his brow lifting, the faint softening around his eyes. For a long moment, neither spoke—they listened, connected by that quiet thread of sound.
“When are you coming home?” she whispered.
