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"That's alright. I'll stay. We don't have any secrets," I returned, snuggling into his side.
Her eyes widened, narrowing in on the movement. "Samara is my wife now, Trista," he explained.
"Well," she laughed. "I had thought to warn you that your father is in a worse mood than normal, but I suspect this is probably the cause then?" Lino shrugged, as if to say that his father's mood could be attributed to anything. The sad reality was that it could, but it was unlikely anything else.
Not with the way the man hated me.
"I was under the impression your father took care of your interest in Samara many years ago," Trista said, crossing her arms over her chest. She acted like Lino owed her an explanation, but the woman had never been a mother to him. They'd married when he was already in high school, and poor Lino had been an adult when I met him because of the way his father treated him.
"He could never take away my interest. He merely made it so that it wasn't safe for her to be with me, but now I'd like to see him try and touch her. Matteo wi
ll strip him of everything and banish him from the city he loves so much. That's one thing my father never seemed to understand. Power always shifts, and he no longer controls me with empty threats," Lino said, giving my arm a tug and guiding me away to leave Trista floundering in the entryway.
"I—what was that?" I stuttered, shocked as he led me to the sitting room.
"Not here," he whispered. "I'll explain later."
"Okay," I mumbled quickly, and then we stepped into the room.
"Samara!" Chiara said instantly, jumping up to wrap me in a hug. "It's been so long!"
"Husbands," I said with a roll of my eyes. "You know how demanding they can be, I'm sure." I brushed off the absence, as if it hadn't hurt on some level to be cut out of the dinners. As much as I'd hated being near Gabriele and Tomasso, I truly had enjoyed Chiara's company.
"Ugh, say no more," she returned, casting a glance to her husband Antonio who stood behind her and leaned in to kiss my cheek. Lino shook his hand, before doing the same to his sister's cheek and giving her a brief hug.
"You look good," he said to her, touching her belly affectionately. I'd missed the baby bump there, having been so focused on the faces I hadn't seen in so long.
"Oh God! Congratulations!" I said, holding out a hand and letting it hover over her belly. I didn't want to presume to touch her without her permission, but something about the sight of her pregnant bump drew me in like it never had before. I'd never been that woman who gushed over pregnancies or babies. I'd mostly convinced myself that I didn't want children, but I also knew the reality was I hadn't wanted children with Connor.
I had a feeling Lino would be a different story when the time came. Grabbing my hands, Chiara pressed them into the little bulge and the firmness of it surprised me.
Even so small, it felt so full.
"I can't believe I missed this," I teased, rubbing a hand over it briefly before pulling back. Lino's hand came down, resting around my waist in silent support. Nobody seemed to notice the touch or the possession it communicated.
Whenever we went anywhere or saw anyone, it seemed he always needed to have his hands on me. Claiming me.
I loved it.
Loved that he cared enough to claim me. That he was proud to mark me as his.
"What's this?" Antonio asked finally, noticing the way Lino pressed into my back when it was time to move to greet Tomasso and his father. His hand reached down, taking mine in his, and eyed my rings. "I thought I'd heard you were separated."
"I was. Divorced, actually," I smiled, pausing to flounder over my words a bit.
Lino's chuckle sounded in my ear, deep and thoroughly entertained by my lack of words. "Samara and I were married a couple weeks ago."
"Holy shit," Antonio said, reaching out to clap Lino on the back. It put him tight into my space, and I felt Lino stiffen even though we both knew the movement was innocent in nature. "Congratulations are in order!"
"You—you did what?" Chiara asked, looking at Lino in shock.
"It was a small wedding," I rushed to explain. "We were actually married in Matteo’s sitting room—"
"Oh, I don't care about that!" she giggled. "Weddings are such a waste. Ask me how much of mine I cared about? I'm just so happy for you! He has been wrapped around your finger for as long as I can remember! Do you remember when you were, God, must have been thirteen? I asked you what you did to get him hooked so thoroughly. You were just a wee thing."
I laughed. "I told you I had no clue what you were talking about, and I still don't. But whatever I did, I'd better hope I can keep it up."
"Will you be having kids soon? Please say yes, our kids could grow up together."
