“Never,” I laugh right back.
Ever since that fateful day in Giuliano’s penthouse, we must have spoken on the phone almost every day.
At first, it had just been a lot of crying. Mom took some time to adjust to the news about my dad, and though I had spared her many of the gorier details, she was terrified by my encounter with Giuliano.
But slowly, we began to rebuild our relationship. She’d share the stories she remembered of being a part of the Guild while I introduced her to Rocco and all the new branches of my ever-blossoming social circle.
I throw my arms around her once more, not quite believing that she is finally here, standing in front of me. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Rocco flew me out and set me up in one of the rooms here,” she tells me. “We have all week to catch up properly, so go talk with your friends.”
I pull away, squeezing her hands once more before letting her go.
I’m about to turn back into the chattering fray, when a familiar warmth encircles my waist from behind, and a head rests on my shoulder.
“Did you really have no idea,Angioletta?”Rocco’s voice sends shivers down my spine as he whispers in my ear.
“I was a little preoccupied today, actually,” I admit.
He kisses my cheek before spinning me around to face him. His strong, tattooed arms never leave their hold on my waist.
“I want to show you something.” His charming smile never ceases to cause my heart to flutter. “But if I give you my present first, Chiavari might murder me in my sleep.”
“I resent that!” the redhead shouts from the other side of the room.
I roll my eyes, and Rocco’s smile turns mischievous as he leans forward to whisper in my ear. “Let’s get out of here.”
At that moment, music erupts from deeper within the house, and the crowd begins to disperse, offering us the perfect opportunity to slip away relatively unnoticed. I spot Teo wagging his eyebrows at us as we hurry up the stairs.
Rocco leads me right to the end of the corridor toward the room I first stayed in when we arrived.
“I just finished the redecoration of the master suite,” I tease. “Do you want to go make the most of it?”
He chuckles. “All in good time.”
Then he pushes the door open.
I gasp as I behold what’s inside.
Gone is the California king bed and tastefully plain furniture that had once filled the space.
Instead, there now lies a beautiful nursery. Wood and cream tones warm the entire room. A cradle is covered by a draping, sheer curtain which swoops down from the ceiling. A beautifully ornate rocking chair sits in the corner.
I float inside, scanning the bookshelf as I pass, noting the familiar and unfamiliar titles that reside there. My eyes snag on a particularly worn copy ofBeauty and the Beast, and I pull it from its new home.
“I used to have this exact edition!” I gush excitedly as I open the first page.
There, in blue felt tip, is my childish script, “property of Cassandra Bellini”.
“Your mom brought it with her,” Rocco explains, reaching over my shoulder to trace over my five-year-old handwriting. “I wanted this space to be filled with everything you love.”
I turn to look at him with tears in my eyes. “You’ve done that already.”
His responding kiss is chaste and tender but, nonetheless, sets my heart alight.
“Come on. Let’s get back before they realize we’re missing,” he announces as he takes my hand once more.
When we rejoin the party, most of the guests have gathered in the living room. Donatella seems to have laid out a veritable feast on every available surface.
