For a while, nothing more is said. My hand stays at her stomach, her fingers rest lightly against my arm, and the quiet folds around us in a way I could almost mistake for peace.
It doesn’t last.
My phone vibrates against the nightstand. I think about ignoring it, about letting the rest of the world wait, but I don’t.
I take the call.
The voice on the other end is low, deliberate. It’s enough to tell me the quiet I thought I had tonight won’t hold.
When I end the call, I sit back against the headboard. Liliana is watching me, her head tilted slightly, the faint crease between her brows telling me she knows something has shifted.
“It’s nothing you need to be concerned about,” I say. It’s true, but not enough.
Her hands move. You’re leaving.
“Not for long.”
The thought of leaving her now sits wrong. It is sharper than it has ever been. The idea of her here without me, carrying our baby, is something I will not leave to chance.
I make the call before I stand. More men, placed where they need to be. Every route in and out of the estate locked down. My orders are clipped, without hesitation.
When I hang up, her eyes are still on me. I move to her, my hand brushing along her jaw, holding her there in the stillness of this room. “I’ll be back soon,” I tell her. “You won’t be left unprotected.”
She signs slowly, her fingers careful. I’m not worried.
I watch her for a long moment. She says she isn’t, but I know better. And I know that whatever waits outside this house, nothing will pull me far from her now.
I press a kiss to her forehead, letting it linger before I straighten. She doesn’t follow me to the door, but her eyes do, steady until it closes behind me.
The house feels different tonight. Not quieter. Not heavier. Just sharper, like everything that moves within its walls has become more deliberate.
So has everything in me.
Tomasso waits outside, the glow from his cigarette barely lighting the shape of his face in the dark. He flicks the butt away when he sees me coming, but neither of us says anything until the car pulls out onto the road. I tell him what I’ve already done, the extra security measures in place, the names I’ve looped in without drawing attention. He nods through most of it, quiet and thoughtful, then shifts to face me fully.
“There’s something else,” he says. “I didn’t want to bring it up until I was sure.”
I glance at him, and that’s all he needs to continue.
“One of our guys at the inner city checkpoint flagged a car asking about your schedule. Not press. They're not Greco’s known contacts. I'm digging around. He was subtle about it, but it was clear he wanted to know if you’d be home, and when.”
A long breath slips from me, but it isn’t surprise that settles in my chest. It’s confirmation. Another thread tugging in the wrong direction, another reach toward her.
“Do we have eyes on them now?”
He nods once. “Two men trailing. So far, they haven’t doubled back or caught on. But they’re persistent.”
I sit back, jaw tightening slightly. “Then we give them something to look at.”
His brows lift.
“A party,” I say, my voice calm. “One night. At the estate. It needs to look like everything is normal. Like I have nothing to hide.”
He thinks about it, then nods again. “Smart. Keeps the pressure off. Greco won’t move in a crowd, not with witnesses. And it gives us control. We’ll know who’s there. Who’s watching.”
“Make it quiet but intentional. Not flashy. Enough to draw attention without seeming desperate.”
“I’ll start on the list,” he says. “You’ll tell her?”
