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Amara looked at his face, the beard covering his jaw, the scent of his cologne and smoke mingling together in a concoction she liked. “What if he’s right, Dante? How do we stop this from tarnishing our children?”
He looked down at her and cupped her face, pulling her flush into him. “He was right to an extent, Amara. We are our parents to an extent. I have so much for my mother in me, and I know that. You have so much of yours. Our kids will have bits of us too, but we’re more than our parents. Look at Tristan. Look at Morana. Look at us. Our kids will be more than us too. And we’ll do it as we do everything. Together, you and me. We make this kingdom what we want. Tonight was a big step towards that. We have answers and we have a lead. We’re building a new house on the foundations of an old one, and if need be, we’ll paint it with blood.”
“So, what, we play them, my king?”
He chuckled, his fingers flexing on her face. “We play them, my queen.”
She was going to explode, and not in a good way.
Amara winced, walking the length of the big party hall in the mansion, her ankles swollen, her spine bent back, her hands on the back of her hips – all because she’d become a whale. The doctor had told her that the eighth month of pregnancy would be hard on her body but she hadn’t warned how hard. She was running to the bathroom every five minutes to relieve her bladder, she was swollen all over like a pumpkin, and her joints had started to crack. She was nothing but a giant stomach at this point.
“No, don’t touch the chandelier,” she told one of the staff who was on a ladder, stringing lights across the room in preparation for the wedding ceremony in one week. It was going to be a grand affair, and not because either she or Dante wanted that.
She’d never thought as a child how her wedding was going to be. Back then, all she’d seen had been Dante and he had been unreachable, so wedding days weren’t really something that she’d given any thought. She liked how the preparation was going though.
The garden behind the mansion, from the wall to the gazebo, had already been decorated. Poles had been set up and canopies of sheer white and gold had been put up, covering the entire open space. Seating places were being set up, flowers had been booked, and basically, the entire lavish ceremony was good to go. And since it was almost the summer, there was no possibility of rain for the week, only bright sun and cool winds.
Amara couldn’t remember ever having seen a party of this scale on the compound. Including the acquaintances of Mr. Maroni and the families of the Outfit and its partners, well over seven hundred people attending the wedding of Dante Maroni and his outsider bride. Most of them didn’t approve, from what the grapevine said, but they were all supportive of Dante’s ascension and his new reign, and what he would bring to the table.
“Ouch,” Morana’s voice said from behind her, her hazel eyes behind the glasses on Amara’s ankles in the flats. “That looks nasty.”
“Feels worse,” Amara groaned. “I swear she feels like a giant even though I know she’s small.”
“I mean both you and Dante are vertically blessed, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s tall too,” Morana commented. She and Tristan had flown in last night, a week before the wedding, so they could help out. Since Damien wasn’t attending, Tristan had agreed to stand with Dante and Morana with her. Amara knew they weren’t getting married anytime before they had answers about Luna, but secretly she hoped one day soon they would. The biggest surprise though had been the little boy they’d brought with them.
Xander was a quiet kid, but he’d already weaved his way into Tristan and Morana’s life. Amara had seen both him and Tristan playing cards at night and she understood what Morana meant. Tristan loved the boy. It was evident in the way he stood close to his side, or always kept his eyes on him when he was in the room, or ruffled his hair. Amara recognized the ways Tristan fell in love, the same way he had with Morana, just with much less turmoil. As for Morana herself, she had taken to Xander like a pro. And given both their histories, Amara was certain they would make incredible parents to the little boy if they chose to keep him.
“Your dress is here, by the way,” Morana grinned, her excitement infectious. “It’s so gorgeous, Amara. You’re going to blind Dante.”
Amara snorted. “I hope not. Any news about Nerea?”
Morana shook her head, watching the giant chandelier being sparkled. “She’s gone underground, but I’m not surprised. She had to have known your father was MrX.”
Amara shrugged, still willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Maybe, she didn’t, Morana. We don’t really know anything about her or her past. And she’s been good enough to me over the years that I won’t throw it out, not without proof.”
Morana nodded. “I like that about you, you know? Your openness. Damn, who has these huge ass chandeliers in like every non-bedroom room? Crazy rich people.”
Amara laughed, felt the pressure build in her bladder, and sighed. Few more weeks. Just a few more weeks.
On her way back from the bathroom off the living room, Amara climbed the stairs to the second floor where Dante’s mother’s painting studio had been. She had never had the chance to go there before, and she’d always wanted to.
The huge room was empty except for a few boxes and art supplies under a large window, right opposite the entrance that had the entire vista of the hills and the river running through it laid there for her viewing. Amara headed to it, taking in the view. It was beautiful, and she could see why it had been artistically inspiring.
“This is where he killed her, you know,” the feminine voice behind her had Amara spinning on her swollen feet, wincing at the throb in them.
She looked as Nerea slinked out from behind the door, dressed all in black, looking far older than Amara had ever seen her look, lines of stress on her face.
“Sister,” Amara rasped out. “We have been looking for you.”
The other woman nodded. “I know. I’ve been hiding.”
Amara blinked. “Why?”
Nerea gave a smile, one that sent a chill down Amara’s spine. “You have an amazing mother, you know,” she started, stepping closer into the room.
Amara instinctively took a step back, staying silent.
“You have an amazing friend,” Nerea continued, her tone soft, slithering between them like a serpent. “You have an amazing man. And now, you’ll have an amazing child. Amazing Amara.”
