Page 122 of His Son's Ex

They walk away and start to mingle with the other guests, presumably satisfied.

Dante slips an arm around me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Nice job. You were perfect.”

I smile up at him. “Shocked them a little bit, didn’t I?”

He grins, eyes twinkling. “Utterly. And I loved every second of it.”

Isabella approaches, gliding across the courtyard with the kind of elegance only she can pull off—controlled, composed, regal. Her gown is a deep, slate-blue silk, fitted to perfection. Understated but exquisite, with subtle embroidery at the sleeves and hem.

She stops in front of us, hands clasped together, eyes soft. “You both look radiant.” Her gaze moves from me to Dante, pausing for just a second longer on her son. “Truly.”

Then she steps forward and pulls Dante into a hug, catching both of us off guard. His eyes widen for a split second, his arms tightening around her. When she pulls back, there’s a slight sheen in her eyes. Nothing dramatic, just a single, silent tear slipping down her cheek before she brushes it away like it never existed.

She then turns to me.“Eva,” her voice warm and genuine, “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.

“There’s much to do in the months ahead,” she adds. “If you ever wish to play a role in this family’s affairs, I would be glad to have you. There’s no shortage of work.” She lifts her chin, the corner of her mouth tilting ever so slightly. “I’ll leave you two to enjoy one another’s company. You’ve earned it.”

Dante smirks, sliding his arm around my waist. “We plan to.”

Isabella’s eyes narrow just a fraction, amused but clearly choosing not to comment.

She straightens her gloves, then asks, “And where are you going on your honeymoon?”

“Bali,” Dante replies smoothly.

My head snaps toward him, eyes wide. “Bali?”

He gives me a knowing look. “I thought you might like that.”

Like it?

Bali. The beach. The sunlight. The private villa. The recurring fantasy I’ve been having for months—the one where I wake up tangled in Dante’s arms, the scent of ocean and heat in the air, his mouth trailing down my throat while he murmurs things I really shouldn’t be thinking about in front of his mother.

I blink rapidly and force a smile, hoping neither of them notice the blush blooming across my face.

Isabella does. Of course.

She chuckles. “A fine choice. Romantic, secluded, and far enough away from the family business. Enjoy. Both of you. And once you return, Eva, if you’re ever ready, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

She gives one last, elegant nod before drifting back toward the crowd, disappearing with the kind of quiet command only Isabella Bellacino can pull off.

Dante and I watch her go, his hand finding mine. He leans down, voice low. “You know you don’t owe her anything. Not forgiveness. Not even civility.”

“I know,” I say, eyes still on Isabella’s retreating figure. “But I also know she’s sincerely trying. I saw it in her eyes.”

Dante turns to face me, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. “If you ever want to work with her officially, I wouldn’t stop you. But I’d never ask it of you.”

I tilt my head, my smirk returning. “Maybe someday. I’m a sucker for complicated power dynamics.”

He laughs.

“But for now, I just want to enjoy our wedding night.”

He leans in, kissing me slow and deliberate, his palm curling against my cheek. “I love you so much,” he murmurs.