Page 80 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince

Gorgeous.

It smells like hay, leather, and clean sweat inside.

The morning sun falls in narrow shafts through the slatted roof, gilding the dust as it floats.

The twins dart ahead before I can catch them, their excitement crackling through the stable like static.

"They know not to run behind them," Gianna says.

"I know," I murmur, watching Arietta throw both arms around the neck of a patient roan mare named Cielo. "But they’ll test everything anyway. It’s what children do."

Costello stamps again, the heavy ring of his hooves echoing.

I move toward him without thinking, pressing a hand to his neck to steady him.

His muscle tenses, then settles.

There’s always been something ancient in his gaze.

Alessia reaches him next, tiny palms held up like she's approaching royalty.

"He’s too big," she says, awed, then turns to me. "Can I ride him?"

I kneel, meeting her eyes.

"Not yet. But one day, if you learn to ride properly and treat him with respect."

"Do you ride him?"

"When I need to."

Her brow furrows. "Do you need to a lot?"

I glance at Gianna, who’s running her hand down Cielo’s neck, murmuring something in Sicilian that makes the mare sigh. "I used to," I say.

There is a small paddock behind the stables, hedged with olive trees and lined with white stone.

The twins climb the fence like it’s a jungle gym, shrieking with delight when one of the grooms brings out two smaller horses that are already saddled.

They are glossy and calm.

Gianna doesn’t sit.

She leans against the fence, arms folded, the shadow of a smile teasing her lips.

I move beside her, handing her a thermos of coffee one of the staff packed without asking.

She doesn’t thank me, but she drinks.

"They’re fearless," I say quietly, watching Arietta tug on the reins like she’s commanding a tank.

"They’re pretending they don’t see you watching," Gianna answers. "But they see everything."

I nod, eyes on the girls as they circle the paddock, their laughter cutting clean through the wind. "It doesn’t scare you?"

Gianna’s eyes are unreadable.

"Of course it does. But fear isn’t the enemy. Not knowing where it hides—that’s what kills you."