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Combing her fingers gently through her little nephew’s dark hair, Bella met Chiara’s gaze. “We’ll figure all of that out later. Right now, we need to do what Ettore says, okay?”
“Yes, of course. May I gather a few things for Pietro before we go? I promise I’ll hurry.”
Ettore nodded and Bella glanced down at her red gown and bare feet. “I don’t suppose you have anything in your closet that would fit me, do you?”
Chiara smiled warmly. “You can look for something in your own closet, sorella. I kept your room just as it was on the day you were taken, in the hopes that you would come home again one day.”
The kindness of that gesture—the sisterly love from her brother’s widow—put a lump in Bella’s throat. “Thank you.”
She pulled Chiara into a brief hug before Ettore brought them all out of the panic room and back into the empty villa to prepare to leave.
A few minutes later, Bella was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and flats and a black T-shirt. Chiari held Pietro in one arm, a small bag containing his favorite blanket and toys and sundry other necessities slung over her other arm. Ettore took the bag from her and headed outside, leading the way.
“We have to leave the Pagani,” he said, bypassing the two-seater sports car. “There’s not enough room in it, but we also need to avoid drawing attention. I don’t like the idea of taking Massioni’s men’s vehicle, but I can ditch it after we get to Matera in case anyone’s looking for it.”
“I’ve got a truck out back,” Chiara said. She pointed to the barn behind the house. “It’s not fast, but it’ll get us where we’re going. And it’s plain enough that it won’t turn any heads along the way.”
Ettore considered for a moment, then shrugged. “Sounds better than our other options.”
They retrieved the rust-spotted old pickup truck and climbed in, Bella sandwiched on the narrow bench seat between Ettore and Chiara and Pietro.
It was impossible to ignore the heat of Ettore’s thigh pressed against hers as they drove off into the thinning darkness. Being this close to him again, her senses overwhelmed with the warmth and strength and scent of him, Bella knew a contentment—a feeling of security—that had eluded her for so long she hadn’t recalled what it was like to feel safe and protected.
She hardly realized how badly she’d craved that feeling until now. With him.
Chiara and Pietro must have felt some degree of safety now too. They had both dozed off just a few minutes into the drive. No doubt the late hour and the stress of what they’d endured tonight had left them exhausted, but Bella knew their peaceful breathing had much to do with the man who’d surely saved their lives.
Bella glanced at Ettore in the soft light of the old truck’s dashboard. His eyes were fixed on the open road, one hand slung over the top of the steering wheel. He seemed deep in his own thoughts until the weight of her gaze drew his attention. He looked her way, and although she was embarrassed to be caught staring at him, she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been.
“Thank you for helping them,” she said quietly. “Thank you for helping all of us tonight.”
He gave a small shake of his head. “There’s no need to thank me, Bella. I would do anything for you. Don’t you know that?”
No, she didn’t know that. For all she knew, she’d meant absolutely nothing to him. Not ten years ago. Certainly not all this time later. “Why did you do it, Ettore? Why did you leave and never come back? Was it because of something I did?”
“No.” His answer came swiftly, his brows furrowing in a scowl. “Christ, no. You didn’t do anything at all. Tell me that’s not what they let you believe…”
“They?” A sick feeling opened up in the pit of her stomach. “You mean my family? You mean my father and Sal?”
His silent stare was confirmation enough.
“Tell me,” she prompted. “What did they do?”
He glanced back at the road. “They were only looking out for your best interests, Bella. They noticed we were growing closer—they noticed my interest in you as a woman—and your father wasn’t pleased. Neither was Sal, actually.”
“Are you saying they pushed you away? No… Surely they would not. Are you saying they didn’t want us together, so they forced us apart?”
Anger clawed up the back of her throat. She could hardly stand the thought of what their interference had caused her. To think she had wept over her father’s murder. To think she had wept for Sal, even after he’d betrayed her to Vito Massioni.
But selling her out to that criminal thug hurt less than knowing the two men she trusted the most all her life had actually betrayed her even more egregiously long before then, when they stole her chance at a future with Ettore.
He slanted her a sober look. “They loved you, Arabella. Your father wanted to make sure you found a male who could provide for you, give you all the things you deserved in life. Your father and Sal both wanted only what was best for you.”
Her answering scoff was brittle. “Look how that turned out.”
“They couldn’t have known how things would end up,” he gently assured her. “But I wish I had known. I wish the Order had been on to Vito Massioni years ago, so I could’ve killed the bastard before he had the chance to lay a hand on you.”
“It could’ve been worse,” she admitted quietly. “I endured his temper sometimes, but at least I avoided his lust.”
