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“That’s the problem,” I mutter, frowning. “Julian doesn’t want a wife. He wants a uterus.”

Gigi shakes her head. “Julian may want you to believe that because Mafia men equate talking about feelings to death. Julian choseyoufor the contract because he wantsyou. Even if you weren’t able to have his baby, he’d have figured out another way to save you and make sure you were his. The Russian thing is his excuse.”

Neomi nods. “These men want you to believe it’s all about contracts and loyalty.” She raises her hand to make ayappinggesture. “Meanwhile, they’re buying you puppies, coming home to you every night, and risking their lives for you. Eventually, reality will smack them in the face.”

“Seeing it when it happens is fun as hell,” Natalia says, winking at me.

I wish I could believe them, but just like at the ballet studio, my gut tells me that Julian and I will never be like them.

He made that clear.

I’m homesick.

Or rather, homesick for Julian.

I don’t know what to call it.

It’s past midnight, and I’m in Gigi’s bedroom with her, Pippa, and Alessia.

Neomi and her sisters went home, and Natalia left for her wing of the mansion an hour ago. My plan was to stay overnight, but I miss Julian.

I want to be there, in his home, with him.

He said it was mine for the time being anyway.

I’m halfway paying attention to an oldEuphoriaepisode playing in the background. Pippa is beside me, Alessia is cooing from the bassinet beside the bed, and Gigi is sprawled across the ottoman in the corner, talking on her phone.

She’s whispering, but I’ve heard her tell Antonio, “Good night,” and, “I love you,” at least six times.

I grab my phone, get out of bed, and walk to the attached bathroom. I blink against the bright light and unlock my phone. My finger tingles, hovering over Julian’s name.

The Marchetti mansion may be the safest home in New York, but there’s one flaw—no Julian. And like a kid at a sleepover, I miss home.

Out of nowhere, Julian has become my comfort.

He answers on the second ring.

“Come get me,” I say.

“What happened?” he immediately asks, his voice laced with a hint of panic.

“Nothing,” I sigh. “I just … never mind.”

“I can’t pick you up right now,” he says before I hang up. “I’ll send Emilio.”

I can’t explain why, but I sense he’s sporting a pleased smile, like he knows I miss him.

“Are you coming home tonight?” I ask.

“It wasn’t in my plans.”

I frown, leaning against the marble countertop.

“But I’ll come home for you, baby.”

A pleasant hum fills my blood, a rush of energy hitting me.

“I’ll call Emilio, and we’ll get you home. Okay?”