My lips trembled as I took off, running at him. I jumped and he caught me, holding me to him. I wrapped my legs around his middle, threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tight as I sniffled loudly. Ettore pulled back to look at me. He cupped my cheek, brought his face to mine and kissed me lovingly through my tears. Overwhelmed, I both laughed and cried, and when we separated, Tor used his free hand to gently wipe away the wetness from my cheeks.

“Ready to go?” he asked quietly.

It burst out of me when I replied through a hitching cry, “Yeah.”

My husband didn’t smile openly, but his eyes did. Like a baby koala, he carried me as he walked. I rested my head on his shoulder, indulgently, as he brought me around to the passenger seat of the car. I allowed him to lower me to the ground and help me in. He buckled me up, closed the door and returned to the driver’s side. He slipped inside, started the car and backed out of the driveway.

And I took one last look at my prison.

Marco stood on the porch, with his arms crossed over his chest, looking every bit the badass. But I could have sworn there was a whisper of a smile on his lips.

When I lifted my hand in lazy wave, he returned it.

And with a final glance, a thought crossed my mind. Although the house was beautiful, I vowed right then that I would die before I ever came back to Northport.

17. An entire bowl of bullshit

Chapter 17

An entire bowl of bullshit

Ettore

I had to admit that watching Vittoria being stared down by my twelve-year-old daughter as they sat on opposite ends of the table was rather entertaining. The boys had sat down long enough to re-introduce themselves to their step-mother, and then they were out. But Ella… Ella wanted Vittoria to suffer. And she started by asking a cold, “Where are your shoes?”

From my place behind the kitchen island, I let them hash it out.

Vittoria looked down at her bare feet and answered through a small laugh. “I was in a hurry. I guess I left them behind.”

And Ella nodded curtly. “Right. I just thought by the way you were dressed that you could afford any.”

Oof.

Vittoria glanced back at me with wide, blinking eyes and Ella’s barely-there smirk told me she’d achieved exactly what she meant to.

My daughter was not going to make this process fun, but until things got extreme, I decided to sit back and refrain from intervening. After all, I wasn’t the only one with trust issues. It would take more than her dad bringing home his young wife for Ella to trust again.

She was justifiably cautious.