Page 55 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince

Valentina is already waiting inside, her arms open, her expression betraying nothing.

She crouches to the twins’ level, not rushing them, speaking softly as they take her in.

Then, with a smile that they return, she takes their hands and gestures toward the playroom.

"I’ll look after them," she says to me. "Go."

I nod once and look to Rafa.

He doesn’t wait for my agreement.

He’s already turned, already walking down the hall that leads to the west wing where the study sits like a heart behind closed doors and secrets.

We walk in silence.

The hallways are warm, heavy with the scent of polished wood and old leather.

Nothing has changed here either.

Not the paintings on the wall, not the dull gleam of the sconces or the tastefully muted rugs that line the corridors.

When we reach the doors, Rafa pushes them open without knocking.

Luca is standing behind the desk, one hand resting on the back of the chair as though he had been halfway to sitting when we arrived.

Marco is by the fireplace, his shoulder leaning against the mantle.

His face is unreadable.

His suit is dark, crisp, and unwrinkled despite the early hour.

There’s a glass in his hand, half full with something amber and old.

And Dante?—

Dante is standing at the window.

When the door opens, he turns.

He doesn’t speak.

His eyes find mine, and the rest of him stills as if his body has forgotten how to move.

I see it happen, every flicker of recognition playing across his face in sequence.

The disbelief, the narrowing of his gaze, and the breath he forgets to take.

I feel Rafa still beside me, his whole body going tense with waiting. Luca’s jaw is set, his gaze hard and fixed on me, but not surprised.

Marco, as always, reveals nothing.

I keep my eyes on Dante and don’t speak.

There is nothing to say that would not break me open further.

Rafa clears his throat.

"They’re in the playroom," he says, not to Dante but to Luca. "Valentina has them."