Luca reached for her.
Emma let him pull her close.
“No more secrets,” she whispered against his chest.
“No more secrets.”
They stood there until Emma’s anger dissolved into exhaustion.
“What happens to Camille?” she asked.
“Prison. For a long time.”
“Good.”
Luca’s chest rumbled with dark amusement. “You’re terrifying when you’re vindictive.”
“I learned from the best.”
He kissed the top of her head.
And Emma realized that love wasn’t about perfection.
It was about choosing someone even when they made mistakes.
Even when they were afraid.
Even when they tried to protect you from things you were strong enough to handle.
It was about staying.
One month later, Emma found a box on her pillow.
Inside was a key.
Beneath it, a note in Luca’s handwriting:
Sophie arrives tomorrow. I had the guest suite prepared. But if you’d rather she stay in the main house with us, the key is yours.
Emma stared at the key until her vision blurred.
She found Luca in his office.
He looked up when she entered. Saw her face.
“Too much?” he asked carefully.
Emma crossed the room and kissed him hard enough to steal his breath.
When she pulled back, Luca was smiling.
“I’ll take that as approval.”
“You gave my sister a suite.”
“I gave your sister a home. There’s a difference.”
Emma’s hands were shaking. “Luca—”
“She’s your family. That makes her my family. And my family doesn’t stay in guest suites.”
Emma couldn’t speak.
Luca stood. Framed her face with both hands.
“I love you, Emma. That means I love the people you love. It means I protect them. It means they have a place here for as long as they need one.”
Emma kissed him again.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Sophie arrived the next day with two suitcases and a look of profound suspicion.
Emma met her at the door.
“This is insane,” Sophie said immediately.
“I know.”
“This house is insane.”
“I know.”
“The man who owns this house is—Emma, is he in the mob?”
“We don’t use that word.”
Sophie’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God, he is.”
Emma grabbed her sister’s hand. “Come inside. I’ll explain everything.”
She did.
They sat in the kitchen—Sophie’s choice, because the sitting rooms made her nervous—and Emma told her everything. The fake relationship. The real one. Camille. Teresa. The moment everything had shifted from performance to truth.
Sophie listened without interrupting.
