"Best mistake, right?"
I scrunch my nose. "Best mistake I ever made was trusting you even when you broke my heart. Through all that pain we built something real. So real that sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and have to convince myself I'm not dreaming." The words come out soft, carrying none of the bitterness they would have held weeks ago.
He pulls me into him and tightens his hold around me. I feel his heartbeat against my back, steady and strong.
“You and me forever.”
My mind drifts to the question that still lives in the back of my head. Quiet but present. Someday I might want to know who gave me blood. But today isn't about the man who made me. It's about the people who chose me. Enzo Marchetti isn't my father. These people are my family. Blood has never been what makes a family real. Choice does.
When we return to the reception, the evening has deepened into that golden hour where ties are loosened and shoes are abandoned and mafia royalty looks almost human.
Movement catches my eye near the wish room corridor. Konstantin stands with a red envelope in his hands, and whatever is written inside has transformed his face. A stillness that goes beyond his usual composure. Deeper. More absolute.
I can’t tell for sure, but I think he tells Massimo, "This one's mine." But I’m no expert at reading lips. Either way, he tucks the envelope into his jacket and walks out without another word.
Rafael and Luca exchange a look across the room. I recognize that look. Something big is coming.
Before Kon disappears, I notice the man standing where he stood. I didn't see him arrive. One second the corridor was empty and the next he was there. Dark hair. A suit that looks like shadows wearing human form.
"Cristian is here?" I murmur to Luca.
"Yeah. He's trying to prove himself for permanent inclusion. Right now, he handles our more delicate acquisitions on a case-by-case basis."
"He looks like he's cataloging the room."
Luca huffs a laugh. "He probably is. That man sees everything, takes what he wants. Disappears like a ghost in the wind."
I watch Cristian's gaze track across the reception. Every face noted. Every exit mapped. His dark eyes move steadily from one group to the next until they stop.
On a server.
She’s petite. Dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. Quick, nervous hands gripping her tray. She weaves through the crowd with her chin down and her shoulders curved inward. Prettyin an unassuming way. The kind of woman you'd overlook completely.
Cristian Vetrov is not overlooking her. His eyes follow every movement she makes and the hair on the back of my neck prickles.
"Does he know her?"
Luca frowns and tracks my line of sight. "I don't think so. She's new. Started last month."
But the expression on Cristian's face tells a different story. Patient. Predatory. Already three moves ahead in a game no one else knows they're playing.
I shiver and turn back to my husband. Some games aren't mine to play.
"Dance with me."
His face softens and he leads me onto the floor, his hand settling on my belly as the music slows.
And then I feel it.
A kick. Not the gentle flutters I've been feeling for weeks now. This is a real kick, sharp and strong, directly beneath Luca's palm. The kind of movement that says I'm here and I'm not subtle about it. And then it comes again, a tiny pulse of movement beneath Luca's palm.
The gasp that escapes me has nothing to do with dancing.
"What is it?" Concern sharpens his voice. His body goes tense. "Are you okay?"
"She moved. Didn’t you feel it?" My eyes fill with tears. "She kicked. Did you finally get to feel that?"
His hand stills against my belly. The room falls away. The music fades. Nothing exists except his hand and the tiny life beneath it saying hello for the first time.