Page 66 of Anti-Heroes in Love Duet

“Smells like warm flowers,” she decided. “Maybe I should wear some too?”

Dante chuckled, moving out from behind me having secured the apron. He tweaked her nose. “Little girls do not need to wear perfume.”

She frowned at him. “What do you know about it?”

I laughed.

God, but I laughed. It burst out of me indecorously, seizing my belly and warming my chest. When I recovered, eyes wet with mirth, Rora had gone back to shaping pasta in her little fingers, but Dante was watching me with something written in black ink in those long-lashed eyes.

“Bellissima,” he mouthed.

A blush worked itself under my skin, but I ducked my head to focus on the pasta, letting a curtain of dark curls fall between my cheek and his gaze. It was disconcerting how much interest Dante seemed to have in me. I wasn’t used to being…watched.

I could be an emotional terrorist, my broken pieces weaponized like shards of broken glass. I was used to being the bitch, the warrior, something strong and impenetrable, more a worthy adversary than a worthy friend.

But Dante looked at me as if I was some priceless, mysterious work of art, and he wanted to know the story behind my almost smile.

I wanted to be furious with him for forcing me into a situation where I could not only be called off the case that could make my career but one where I could lose that career entirely. And in a way, I still was. The wariness and the bitter tang of anger lingered on the back of my tongue. But emotions had a funny way of boiling together in the same cauldron of the gut, and right then, in his messy kitchen with an adorable little girl who adored him, it was impossible not to feel something completely contrary to rage.

“Ciao raggazzi,” a woman called from the entryway, drawing my notice.

A moment later, the beautiful and blond Italian woman I now knew to be Bambi walked into the living room in a form-fitting dress. Rora scrambled from the table, jumping awkwardly to the floor, falling to one knee, then taking off at a run to hug the woman.

Bambi smiled as she accepted the girl into her arms even though they were laden with grocery bags. “Bambina.”

The word made me grit my teeth. It was the nickname Sebastian and Cosima had called Giselle since they were young even though she was older than them both. It was perfectly emblematic of their relationship with her too. They coddled her, protected her, lavished her with affection and praise.

Dante’s hand was suddenly lightly pressed to the middle of my shoulder blades. He was looking at Bambi, but something about his touch told me he’d sensed my tension and was trying to offer relief.

Like an idiot, I was moved by the gesture.

“Bambi, this is Elena Lombardi,” he introduced as they came into the kitchen. I noticed he didn’t mention I was his lawyer, but I figured she already knew.

I offered a small smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Really, I couldn’t get past the question of their relationship. Was she his girlfriend?

Bambi eyed Dante’s somewhat protective stance beside me, a small smile fluttering over her lips. “Likewise. I see you’ve met my daughter, Aurora.”

“Rora,” the little girl shouted, then proceeded to make a fierce little growl. “Because I roar like a lion.”

Bambi blinked at her, then looked up at Dante questioningly.

“I’m sorry, that was me,” I admitted. “She was expressing some dislike of her name because of the connection to Sleeping Beauty.” I shrugged, a little embarrassed.

“Rora,” she tested, then cupped her daughter’s plump cheek. “Beautiful and strong like my girl.”

My heart warmed even as it pulsed with hurt witnessing the genuine love and admiration between the mother and daughter. I yearned for such a connection so badly, even my teeth ached with it.

Dante’s thumb stroked over the bumps in my spine. I sucked in a small, shaky deep breath.

“I see you wanted to helpzioDante with dinner,” Bambi noted, eyes sweeping over the mess on the island.

Dante grinned, completely unabashed. “Every Italian should know how to make pasta.”

“This is why I don’t like you in my kitchen,” she grumbled good-naturedly as he took some of the grocery bags for her and cleared a spot on the counter for them. “I ran into Adriano in the entry. He said he wanted to speak to you in the office.”

Dante shot me a look, but Bambi shooed him and practically pushed him out of the kitchen. “Leave the cooking to the women. We do it so much better than you.”