Mafia love

Because of Sinclaire, I’d been able to make it home for my baby’s delivery, which ironically was two weeks after I’d been released. Raphael had come early, and I was so happy I’d been there to welcome him into the world and be there for Amelia as she gave birth to him.

So, no matter what, Sinclaire was good in my books. He didn’t have to do what he did for me. He never had to. I knew I would always be indebted to him.

Sinclaire picked up Raphael and brought him over to where we sat.

The two were laughing.

Sinclaire handed him to me, and I took my boy proudly, loving that he put his little arms around my neck.

“That kid gives me a whole month’s workout.” Sinclaire smiled, taking the seat next to me.

“He’ll probably go to sleep now for hours.” I brushed my nose over Raphael’s tiny one.

“That’s good, right?”

“For him.”

“So, you guys done talking about me?” Sinclaire looked at Claudius and Maurice.

“No, so much more to say,” Claudius answered, resting back against the chair.

“Like what, boss?” Sinclaire chuckled.

Claudius straightened. “Don’t call me that. It doesn’t suit you, and I would never have you work for me.”

I rolled my eyes at him. He was such a prick sometimes, but speaking of who suited what, my brother definitely suited the part of Don to the Chicago mafia.

“Not even if I got you those cigars you like?”

Claudius squinted. “Cough it up, cop, and we’ll see.”

“Nah, you have to beat me in poker first.” Sinclaire smirked.

“You’re on.”

Just then, the door to the sunroom opened, and Amelia stuck her head out.

A bright smile washed over her face as she looked at me holding Raphael.

“It’s Mama, Papa.” Raphael beamed, stretching his little hands out to her.

She glided over to us, took him, and gave me a kiss.

“Why is there mud all over the baby?” She winced.

“Blame your boy over there.” Maurice pointed his finger at Sinclaire.

“Hey, kids love dirt. Plus, didn’t you know a good mud bath is excellent for the skin?” Sinclaire answered with a mischievous smile.

“Bullshit.” Claudius smirked.

“Claudius, language,” Amelia chided.

“Sorry.” He smiled. “Bull poop.”

Amelia rolled her eyes and looked back to me. “Should we do di

“Let’s. They won’t have our amazing food all summer.” We were leaving for Italy in a few days. “Maurice, you’re up.”

Amelia handed Raphael to Maurice.

“Hey, no, my turn.” Gigi rushed out the door and took Raphael.

“Unfair, but I won’t argue.” Maurice chuckled.

“Thank you, dear.” Gigi bubbled away, going back into the house with Raphael.

“Happy wife, happy life.” Maurice nodded. The two had been married for a year now.

Amelia took my hand and pulled me away from the guys just as Sinclaire laid out his deck of cards.

When we got inside the kitchen, she grabbed a pack of fresh pasta, and I took it from her.

“I’m cooking. You’re watching.”

“We said we.” She giggled.

“Yes, so I could have you all to myself.”

“So, I’m just going to watch you cook?”

I nodded. “Here’s the plan for the evening that I never told you. We cook di

“What? Luc, we’re leaving for Italy in days. We can’t have a break like that and the baby needs us.”

“The baby will be fine. Come here.” I pulled her closer, and she slipped her arms around me. “Mrs. Morientz, I’ve only told you once today that I love you.”

“Mr. Morientz, you’re forgiven, but you have to make up for your severe mistake.” She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed me.

“Di

We both laughed.

“How about dessert first?” She gave me a saucy look.

I loved the sound of that. I loved my life with her. I loved that she gave me a chance to be me.

Most of all, I loved that she loved me.

That was priceless.

Amelia

I walked out into the sea of gardenias covering the front garden of the vineyard. Against the moonlight, they were a stark bright white, like stars kissing the earth.

That was the first thought I’d had on my first visit here last year. I understood what he’d meant every time he used to mention the villa.

The breathtaking image of it was always so striking it gave me goose bumps, and here I was again. Here in the garden in Italy, and the effect was the same.

Maybe a little more because of my deep appreciation for it. I longed to be here when I wasn’t, and it was a welcomed break. Most of all, it sparked my creativity.

All I had to do was take a look at the beauty before me, and it cha

It was amazing how different my life was now. It was so different, sometimes I had a hard time believing everything else that had happened.

It was like I’d always been married to Luc. Like we’d met in high school or something and pla

It was like we’d always had Raphael. Our precious baby who was a continuous symbol of our love. It was like we’d always pla

And it was like I’d never left dancing, never left Chicago to become Amelia Taylor, never became someone else.

A month after Raphael was born, I thought I’d take a walk to my old dance school. I’d just wanted to see the place for memory’s sake. I was so shocked to find Madame Bouglaise still ran the place and more shocked that she instantly remembered me. That one visit changed everything. Then sixty-five years old, she’d been looking to sell the school but still have some involvement with the dance examinations and contact with Julliard.

She was the woman who’d practically pruned me and molded me into the dancer I was, so she didn’t think twice when I offered to buy the place.

Then she made the deal even sweeter with her recommendation to Julliard that I train under her to take on the role of exam liaison officer both at Julliard and the school.

I was accepted under her internship, but on the condition that I did three years training at the undergraduate level and a further year to get the teaching qualification. At Julliard.

Of course, I’d completely agreed to it. My time to dance and travel the world with all the amazing companies I’d hoped to work for might have passed, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still live my dream in some way.

Teaching was what I’d always pla

I taught at the school, owned it, and worked closely with one of the best dance academies in the world. It was onwards and upwards from here.

Luc had made it possible. He’d never allowed me to lose sight of my dream.

“You always look the same.”

I turned on hearing Luc’s voice. He’d been at his office in town working late on the accounts.

When I looked at him sometimes, I couldn’t believe he was mine.

In the moonlight, that lit up the vibrant Verona sky, his features looked more chiseled. The angles and planes in his face more pronounced. The bright blue of his eyes became more of a twilight hue in the mingle of light and dark.