Page 172 of Diego

The penthouse had suited the way I lived. This house suits something underneath that. I have always gone back to my family without thinking about why. Dinner at Mario’s, drinks with Ricardo, dropping by Lorenzo’s, ending up at the boys’ house when I had my own perfectly good place to go. I liked having somewhere private to retreat to, but apparently, I never wanted my life to end at my own front door.

Somehow Blair figured that out with just a look and a few hours of research.

Is she just that good or am I that clueless?

I definitely don't like the idea of the latter.

I’m not sure whether to be impressed or annoyed.

I leave the thought there before I can examine it any further and head toward the kitchen, where another surprise is waiting for me. I already have someone who handles meals and keeps the kitchen stocked when I am home, and Emilia had been here before Blair and I arrived last night, so there had been no danger of either of us starving.

Apparently, my family decided that was insufficient.

Containers cover one end of the counter, several grocery bags have been unpacked beside the refrigerator, and there is enough prepared food to suggest they expect Blair to remain here for the next month.

I stop and look at the collection. “What is all this?”

“Food,” Tomasso says.

“I can see that.”

Victoria gets up and follows me into the kitchen. “Things Blair might actually want to eat. Julia said her stomach has been unpredictable, so we brought some lighter options too.”

I open the refrigerator and find that whoever arrived first has somehow managed to fit their contributions around everything already there. “You do realize I employ someone specifically to make sure there is food.”

“Yes,” Victoria says. “And now there’s more.”

“You're also going to need more staff for this big house. You know that, right?” Ricardo chimes in from the couch. “A cook and a cleaning service once a week is not going to cut it.”

“I know.” I close the refrigerator. “Emilia already mentioned it this morning. I told her to figure out what she needs and bring me names.”

I glance back at the room full of Contis making themselves comfortable on furniture I have barely had a chance to use myself.

“Thank you,” I say. “Seriously.”

The teasing fades for a moment, and Mario gives me a small nod. “We wanted to help.”

“Also,” Julia says, “chicken and coffee are big no-nos, so keep those away from her.”

“No coffee?” I say slowly.

I look at the espresso machine sitting on the counter. Big and beautiful and brand new. Not used even once.

Despair moves through me at the loss.

Julia follows my gaze. “She said just the smell of it makes her nauseous.”

I stare at the machine for another second and mourn. “All right.” I sigh.

Victoria pats me on the arm as she passes by. “You'll be all right,” she teases.

There is nothing more to say about it. She simply goes back to Mario and Leonardo while I stand in the middle of my new kitchen, realizing my family has stocked my house, made sure we were properly fed, and made the place fit for a woman most of them have not officially met.

That realization sits with me for a moment.

Then Donna shifts on the sofa and grimaces.

Lorenzo is instantly attentive. “What?”