Page 32 of Marcus

His father smiled over his shoulder.

Cella winked. “Maybe.”

“Well, if that’s only a maybe and not a definite yes, I thought you would like another tour of the place, but this time, upstairs.”

Gian cleared his throat, stepping back from Cella with a nod. “Enjoy the rest of your evening; I should go find my wife.” And then, as his father passed him by, he added to Marcus, “The party is ending soon … keep it in mind, son.”

Yes.

He most certainly would.

“Another tour sounds perfect,” Cella told him.

Marcus grinned. “Perfetto. I know a couple of things you’ll probably appreciate seeing, then.”

“I love that she keeps a nursery set up for any new grandbabies,” Cella noted beside Marcus.

His fingers flexed around hers, and he tugged her closer to his side. “Next to my dad, and us boys … the grandkids are my mother’s whole world.”

Undoubtedly.

She loved them all like nobody knew.

“One more thing to show you up here,” he said, turning at the end of the hall to face the double oak doors that always stayed wide open unless someone was inside with his mother. “Her favorite room in this whole house.”

“Really, because there’s a lot of rooms.”

Marcus laughed. “Yeah, she does everything in here that’s personal to her—things she loves. My dad had it designed and built just for her. She’s filled it over time.”

“What?”

Not saying another word, Marcus pulled Cella forward until the two of them entered his mother’s spacious library that would make any bookworm jealous. Filled from the floor to the ceiling with books, it was completed by the ladders that lined the shelves for his mother to push along and climb high if she needed to find something where she couldn’t reach.

Large bay windows overlooked the property.

Sitting areas kept people comfortable.

Candy in a dish.

A wet bar to drink.

And even a desk, if she wanted to use it.

“Oh, wow,” Cella murmured.

Marcus finally let go of her hand, but only so that he could admire the way she took in the space and appreciated it. Out of every space in the large mansion, this one was the most personal to his mother for many reasons.

Cella walked further into the space while Marcus lingered near the doorway. Running the tips of her fingers over a particular row of shelves that housed books that were older than even he was, she drew in a deep breath.

“Books always have a specific smell.”

“A good one?”

“Very good, yeah.”

He grinned.

Because yeah, he knew.