Page 447 of Rosetti Family New York
Matteo's expression gentles. "Just don't get yourself killed, Carm. Chicago might be family, but it's still dangerous."
"Everything's dangerous." I stand on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, breathing in the familiar scent of expensive cologne and barely contained chaos that defines my brothers. "That's what makes life interesting."
"Speaking of interesting," Isabella says with a smile that's all feminine mischief, "I heard Dom talking to someone about your... accommodations. Apparently you'll have a babysitter."
"I don't need a babysitter."
"Tell that to Dom."
Across the terrace, Rafe and Sloane are huddled together near the garden wall, her head on his shoulder as they watch the sun dip lower. Even after everything they've been through, they still look at each other like they're sharing secrets the restof the world isn't privy to. Emilio and Mara sit at a small table, her hand covering his as they speak in low voices—still working through the aftermath of their complicated reunion, but stronger for having survived it.
Dom appears beside us, having emerged from whatever business call he was handling. His expression is carefully neutral, which usually means he's arranged something I won't like.
"So," I say, adjusting my sunglasses with deliberate casualness, "I hear I'm getting a babysitter in Chicago."
"Protection," Dom corrects smoothly. "Van is a trauma surgeon. Former military. Quiet type who keeps to himself and owes the family a favor."
"Useful skill set," Isabella observes.
"In our world? Definitely." I smile, the expression sharp enough to cut glass. "Though I have to wonder what a military surgeon is doing in Chicago that requires Dom's particular brand of trust."
Leonardo appears with Eleanor on his arm, both of them glowing with that specific happiness that comes from surviving hell together. Leo's wild red hair is slightly tamed for the occasion, though his tattoos still peek out from his shirt collar like promises of violence barely contained.
"You talking about Chicago?" he asks, overhearing the tail end of our conversation.
"Carmela's curious about her new guardian angel," Matteo explains.
Leo's expression shifts, becomes something harder. More serious. "Word of advice, little sister? Don't dig too deep into his past. Some stones are better left unturned."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning he's not who he seems. None of us are, but Van..." Leo shakes his head. "Let's just say Dom trusts him for reasons that have nothing to do with his medical degree."
The pieces click together in my mind like a puzzle I've been unconsciously solving. A surgeon who moves in Dom's circles. Former military with secrets dark enough to make Leo uncomfortable. Someone who owes the family a favor significant enough to warrant babysitting duty.
This isn't protection. This is payment of a debt.
And I have absolutely no intention of being anyone's obligation.
"You're getting that look," Eleanor says with amusement. "The one that means trouble."
"I don't know what you mean." I flip my hair over my shoulder, the gesture pure performance. "I'm just going to Chicago to lay low and live quietly. Maybe take some art classes. Read books that don't involve strategy or surveillance. Live a completely independent, civilian life."
"Right," Matteo drawls. "And I'm a monk."
"A monk who kidnapped his own wife."
"Fiancée," he corrects automatically. "And it worked out."
"Kidnapping usually does in this family," Leo adds helpfully.
The sun dips lower, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink that make everything look softer than it really is. In an hour, I'll say my final goodbyes and climb into a car that will take me to a private airstrip. From there, it's a short flight to Chicago and whatever waits for me in that cold, windy city.
Dom's green eyes find mine across the terrace, and something passes between us. Understanding, maybe. Or warning.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Born ready."
