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I kiss her, and she responds in turn, then pushes me away gently. “Can I eat now? I’m eating for two.” A round of laughter rises, and I can’t help but steal another kiss. The woman of the house has spoken and I must submit. Her mercy has won me over, and I am forever hers.

32

EPILOGUE

ISABELLA

The car pulls to a stop outside the most stunning villa I’ve ever seen. Grapevines line the entire drive all the way from the countryside road to the Tuscan-feel house. It sits a tenth of a mile off the main road, nestled in rolling hills and shaded by large Cypress trees whose knees poke up from the soil below and whose branches dangle with Spanish moss. They pull my eyes upward toward the cerulean sky where hope lives and flourishes.

“It’s beautiful here, such amazing country.” My mother, having never been to Italy in her life, marvels the same way I do, though her arms cradle my son, now four months old and full of personality already. He sucks his fist as she bounces him on her lap.

“Oh, Nonno and Nonna take their property seriously. They have a staff of thirty landscapers and gardeners who tend to the fruit and olive trees, and they even own a vineyard on the hillside out back.” Marco leans down to kiss our son’s forehead and then gestures to us as he opens the door. “Come, let me introduce you.” His large hand swallows mine as he steps out of the limo,and I follow him. Even the air is ripe with scents that tantalize my senses.

“Your family property is gorgeous, Marco. Your father must have had an adventurous childhood. Look at all the trees to climb and the yards to run in.” I cling to his side as he continues to hold the door for Mom, who joined us on this trip to visit his grandparents before they’re too old to enjoy the heir’s infanthood.

“He’s had some tales to tell, for sure. I only wish he could have met his grandson.” Marco smiles with pride at Alberto Lucco, named for my brother and father. Their memory will live on in my son and his son after him.

“He’s watching over us all, along with Lucco and my father.” I rise up on tiptoes to kiss his lips softly.

“Benvenuto, nipote!” The shout from the door is followed by a few more, then the rushing of his elderly grandparents across the shaded walk. I can see immediately where he gets his looks from. His grandfather, well into his late seventies, is charming as ever. Thick black hair peppered with white and silver strands coats his head as he wraps his arms around Marco.

The stunning woman beside him, dressed in a sheer cream tunic that flutters in the wind, cups my cheeks and smiles at me brightly. Her eyes glisten with emotion as she says something in Italian I can’t comprehend. “Che bella donna. Marco, è adorabile…Welcome to our home, Isabella. It’s so nice to meet you.”

My face feels hot as I blush and wait for her warm welcome to cease. “It’s so nice to meet you, Signora Romano.” I’m entrancedby how open-hearted she seems as she turns to my mother and speaks.

“Mrs. D’Angelo, it’s so good to have you join us. Our grandson has spoken so highly of you and your daughter. Won’t you both please come join us for a glass of wine and some cheese? You must be hungry after traveling.” Her Italian accent is thick, but I can understand her.

We follow her into the home, which is lavishly decorated, just as Marco’s home is, and my husband follows behind us, chatting with his grandfather in a mix of English and Italian that flows so effortlessly, I can’t tell which is which. I need to practice my Italian, because I’m not as fluent as he is, and I have a feeling we will spend a lot of time in this place as his grandparents age, which doesn’t bother me.

She shows us through the house, which is mostly open-concept and bathed in beiges, mustards, and maroons. Everything about the home is warm and welcoming, including the shaded arbor under which sits a patio table and chairs. Alberto is fast asleep now, swaddled in Mom’s embrace, but as we sit, Nonna Romano reaches for him and Mom relinquishes her hold.

“He’s perfect, Isabella, in every way. He will be the heir to your throne, no?” Nonna touches Alberto’s cheek softly, and he scrunches his nose, which draws oohs and ahhs from the loving grandparents. Even Nonno leans in to inspect the baby, and with a grunt of approval, he passes judgment.

“Strong boy…” he says, flexing an arm and squeezing his own bicep. I gather that he speaks very little English, but I nod at his compliment and relax in my seat. When Marco suggested we come to his family villa in Italy where his father grew up, I wasskeptical about traveling with a newborn. He agreed to let Mom come along to help, and now I’m so glad I did.

We brunch with them, and his grandparents share stories of him as a child. I’m getting to know him in new ways, which after only fourteen months of marriage is fun and interesting. I absorb all the new information and cringe as Mom shares her own stories of me as a child. The entire time, I catch Marco staring at me as if I’m the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen, and when there is a lull in conversation, he asks me to take a walk with him in the vineyard. So, I leave my sleeping child in the capable hands of his Grandma and Nonna, and I walk hand in hand with Marco across the lawn and up the hill.

“They seem quite smitten with you and the baby,” he says as we walk. His thumb brushes over my hand lightly, and I smile up at him.

“Grandmothers always are when it comes to their grandchildren.” I am awestruck by the sheer magnitude of the vineyard as we ascend the hill and weave through row after row of grapevines full of delicious fruit still ripening. Bees buzz around us, and the summer breeze has hints of fall carried in it.

“I’m quite smitten by you too,” he says, bringing my hand to his lips. “Marry me, Bella.”

I chuckle at him and turn to face him, smiling. “I’m already married to you, Mr. Romano. Did you forget?”

His face is so serious, I wonder if he really did forget. Our marriage started as one of convenience, a business partnership and nothing more. But now, the love that has developed between us is magnetic. We are inseparable now, in spirit and in body. Heis my other half, my better half. He grounds me and makes me strong.

“How could I forget that I’m married to the woman of my dreams? No, Bella, I didn’t forget, but you deserve something better than simply signing paperwork in a judge’s chambers. You deserve the wedding of your dreams, and I want to do that here, at Nonno and Nonna’s. Say you will. I’ll fly everyone in—the whole Family.”

The way he thinks of my heart moves me, and I can’t help but smile at him. For the rough and brutish leader of a criminal organization, Marco can be such a hopeless romantic. He draws me a hot bath when I’m tired. He brings me breakfast in bed when I’m weak. And when the baby wakes in the middle of the night, he’s there, speaking softly to him, telling him stories about his future and the family that surrounds him. Marco is everything I could ever ask for.

“Yes,” I whisper, giving in to my selfish desire to bask in this man’s love every day for the rest of my life. It’s a waste of money, frivolous and unnecessary, but he’s right. I always dreamed of having a huge, beautiful wedding with flowers and music and a ginormous cake too.

I throw my arms around his neck and draw him in for a kiss, and he follows my lead. His arms wrap around me, pulling me in, and we allow our tongues to dance to the rhythm of nature around us, breathing each other in. When he pulls away, he kisses my forehead before sighing happily.

“Thank you for showing me what love means, Isabella. And for teaching me that mercy can change a heart. Your mercy has certainly changed mine.”

“I think I hear our son crying, Mr. Romano. We should get back.” I glance at the house now downhill from us in the distance, and my heart feels full. We’ll set a date and return here to renew our vows and celebrate our union with our Family now united. Until then, he has made me the happiest woman alive, and even our enemies have remained silent.

They say if something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. Well, if that’s the case, then my entire life would be wrong, but I don’t think it is. I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be.