Page 88 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince

I nod, dropping my jacket on the armchair. "Long day."

She studies me for a beat, and I know she’s not just looking at the disheveled state I’m in.

She’s watching me the way she always has, as if she’s trying to understand what changed, what stayed the same.

I’m not even sure I know the answer.

"I didn’t think you’d be back this late," she says, not accusing, just observing.

I cross the room slowly, letting the silence stretch as I sit on the ottoman across from her. "Did the girls go down easy?"

"They were nervous about school. But yes, eventually." Her smile is soft, a little proud. "Arietta insisted on laying out her uniform. Alessia was too busy lecturing her stuffed bunny about stranger danger."

I laugh, and it surprises me.

"You named them well."

Another quiet moment passes.

The light from the lamp makes her hair look darker, warmer, like something rich and rare.

Her legs are tucked beneath her, the hem of her dress sliding a little as she shifts her weight.

I can’t look away.

"They asked about you again," she says, lifting her eyes to meet mine. "They’re trying to understand what you are to them."

That’s the one thing I haven’t figured out myself. I lean forward, bracing my elbows on my knees. "And what did you say?"

"That you’re their father. That you’re trying."

I nod slowly. "I am."

"I know."

Her answer doesn’t come with any sort of demand or expectation, but it feels heavier than anything I heard at today’s meetings.

Maybe because she says it without pushing me.

Maybe because she still doesn’t trust me fully, but she’s offering something anyway.

She nods.

"We should get some rest."

But neither of us moves.

Instead, I reach out and touch the back of her hand.

It’s not planned.

I just do it.

She looks down, not pulling away, her fingers twitching lightly under mine.

Her skin is warm, soft, a little cooler than mine from the air.

The contact is simple.