Page 441 of Rosetti Family New York
"What are you smiling about?" she asks, catching my expression in the mirror.
"You," I say simply. "Always you."
She turns in my arms, water droplets clinging to her lashes, and for a moment we just look at each other. The girl who was supposed to be leverage became everything. The playboy who never believed in love became a man willing to build his entire world around one woman.
"I love you," she says, like she's still amazed by the truth of it.
"I love you too, bella. More than I thought possible."
The steam clears as we towel off and move back to the bedroom, the morning routine feeling natural and domestic in a way that still surprises me. We dress for breakfast, Isabella choosing a soft cream cashmere sweater and tailored pants that Carmela helped her pick out yesterday. The symbolism isn't lost on either of us. She's not wearing armor anymore, not dressing for battle or trying to disappear. She's choosing clothes that make her feel beautiful, comfortable in her own skin and in this house that's becoming our home.
The dining room is alive with voices and laughter when we arrive, the massive table laden with enough food to feed an army. Carmela stands near the sideboard directing the placement of serving dishes, her dark curls pinned back but already escaping in wayward tendrils. She's orchestrated this entire breakfast, I know. Our baby sister has been planning this welcome celebration since the moment Isabella proved her loyalty to the family.
"Finally!" she calls out when she spots us, rushing over to kiss Isabella's cheeks before hugging me tight. "I was starting to think you two were going to sleep all day."
"Some of us had important business to attend to," I say with a grin that makes her roll her eyes.
"Gross, Matt. TMI." But she's laughing as she links arms with Isabella. "Come on, I saved you the good seats. Away from Leo's table manners."
Dom looks up as we enter, his sharp green eyes taking in our joined hands, the way Isabella moves with easy confidence instead of careful calculation. He nods once, a gesture of quiet approval that settles something in my chest.
"Good morning," he says, rising to kiss Isabella's cheeks in the traditional greeting. "You look radiant."
"I feel it," she replies, and means it. The shadows that haunted her eyes for months are gone, replaced by something that looks like joy.
Besiana glides over next, elegant in the way only old money can achieve. She gives Isabella an appraising look, then a genuine smile before pressing kisses to both cheeks.
"Welcome, finally," she says warmly. "You belong with us, dear. You always did."
Rafe grins from his position at the table, raising his coffee cup in mock salute. "Matteo Rosetti, off the market. World's ending."
"Shut up," I say, but I'm laughing as I pull out Isabella's chair, making sure she's seated before taking my own place beside her. Not across from her anymore. We're a unit now.
Sloane beams at us from Rafe's other side, her whole face lighting up with genuine happiness. "I'm so glad you're staying," she tells Isabella. "We need more estrogen in this testosterone-heavy family."
Leonardo appears in the doorway with Eleanor, his wild red hair still bearing marks from sleep, tattoos visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves. He's moving easier now, the bullet wounds finally healed enough for normal activity.
"Well, well," he says, grinning at us with undisguised mischief. "Look what the cat dragged in. She'll keep you from being a smug asshole, Matt. Good choice."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I say dryly, but I'm touched. Leo's approval means something, especially after everything we've been through.
The dining room doors swing open again, admitting Emilio and Mara, both looking golden and relaxed from their Italian honeymoon. My twin brother moves with that familiar quiet confidence, his gray eyes finding mine across the room. The tension that existed between us for months is gone, replaced by something I'd almost forgotten we could have: brotherhood.
"Emilio," I stand, clasping his hand in a firm shake that turns into a brief embrace. "Good to have you back."
"Good to be back," he says simply, but his eyes say more. We're solid again, the way twins should be.
Mara practically glows with happiness, her dark hair longer now, her smile soft and genuine in a way that speaks of true contentment.
"You must be Isabella!" She approaches with a warm smile, extending her hand before pulling Isabella into a gentle hug. "I'm Mara. I've heard so much about you from everyone. It's wonderful to finally meet you properly."
Emilio steps forward, offering Isabella a slight nod of acknowledgment. "You chose to stay," he says simply, and for my brother, that's practically a speech. "Good."
"Thank you," Isabella replies with elegant composure, understanding that from Emilio, those words carry weight.
Emilio just nods, the conversation already over for him, but I catch the approval in his gray eyes.
I watch Isabella warm to the introductions, see her face light up with genuine pleasure at meeting my twin and his wife. These are the moments that matter. Not the violence or the power plays, but this. Family. Belonging. Love in all its messy, complicated forms.
