Page 131 of Brutal Vows

“You’re not fit to fly?” Matteo says, frowning. “What the fuck, dude? What did they do to you?”

I throw my hands up in the air, inadvertently showing him my hand with my somewhat shorter pinkie. Maybe he’ll notice, maybe he won’t. It doesn’t matter—I’m done here. I’m not up for an interrogation via video call right now. “Everybody take a step back and think about everything. We need to figure this out together. Fill Ivan in on Franco Fiore. On Randazzo. Somewhere, something is going to click and then we go in, no holds barred.”

I stand, signaling that I’m leaving this meeting. “I need to check in on Milana and Zoe.” And take a lie down with my girls. I’m still shaken, and exhaustion comes upon me in waves in the aftermath of Russia. “You keep talking. There’re enough brains between you to figure this out.”

I stalk off to exit the office, hearing only protests and my brothers calling for me to come back. Nope. Let Steph fill them in. For now, I’m done.

61

LUCA

As soon as I step out of the office into the corridor, the sound of a far-off-playing piano drifts over. My heart stalls as I listen closer, ignoring the ruckus still coming from the protesting lot on the video call. The house is so big, but built with solid stone walls, and with the office’s heavy wooden door closed, I hadn’t heard anything before now.

But now… Is that Milana?

She’s playing?

Or is it just an illusion created by the romance of this house, the setting, the whole atmosphere of this place?

I quicken my pace, limp and all, scared she will stop before I get to see if it’s really her at the piano.

As I navigate the passages, following the music, the big rooms with their wooden paneling and high ceilings remind me of the Don’s old house in Massachusetts. For all that we loathe the place, it comes with a rich history, and just like this house, has character. The old Don’s house is in limbo, waiting, wanting to shed its old life like snakeskin, and come out new. Rewrite its story with a new family that could right all past wrongs, one child at a time. My child. My children. My family.

Up the elaborate stairs I go, an awkward hop in my step because I’m rushing, and into a sitting room where a grand piano takes center stage. I come to a halt, breath catching as I take in the scene.

It’s no illusion.

Carla is seated beside Milana on the piano stool, holding Zoe against her chest, one hand supporting her under her bottom. Zoe is squealing in delight at the music. My wife, my beautiful Milana, is playing something that has Zoe kicking her little legs with joy.

Just keep playing those beautiful piano pieces to her, you know the ones she loved? It will be our eternal bond as we listened to you together.

Masha’s words to Milana hit me in the chest. It must break her to play this piece, knowing this is what she shared with both Masha, first pregnant, and then with Zoe, for those months they lived together. But she’s playing, breaking through all the heartache to find joy.

She’s going to be okay. We are going to be okay. I send a silent thank you into the universe.

Carla spots me, and it’s as if Zoe senses me at the exact same second and reaches her little arms out to me. No way that’s an illusion. I walk over and take Zoe from Carla, fucking tears are clogging my throat as I hug her close. I’ve never been physically more broken, but I’ve never felt more complete than in this moment.

“Missed your mommy’s playing, didn’t you, sweetheart?” I murmur, breathing her in, mesmerized by the joy she’s so easily brought into my life.

Milana looks up, and our gazes lock. There’s a smile on her lips, but tears in her eyes.

Then she laughs. “I think Luca was convinced I couldn’t actually play,” she says with a wink at Carla, her fingers just floating over the keys as if it’s nothing.

Yep. The story of my neglected wedding gift spread far and wide, to the point that even Carla knows my wife hasn’t played a single note on that Steinway yet.

“You are an amazing pianist,” Carla says, then strokes Zoe’s head where she’s leaning against my chest. “Thank you for trusting me with her.”

It hits me that our secret will always be safe with Carla, because she will soon have her own heart, living and breathing, outside in the world.

“Just as you will trust us with yours.”

“Yes.” Carla closes her eyes and leans into me, and I give her a brotherly hug.

“It’s going to be fine, cara,” I whisper. “You have a village.”

“Yes.” She stays a few seconds longer, then squeezes my arm, presses a kiss to Zoe’s cheek, and then leaves us alone with just the music filling the room.

Milana’s hands move over the keys, sure and effortless. When I look at her, everything in me stills. Her eyes…they’re not on her hands, making sure she hits the right keys. No, they are on me, her gaze soft, tender, and with that light in them I wanted for myself ever since I saw that video of her.