Enamoured (The Enslaved Duet 2)

“Cazzo,” I cursed through the sudden onslaught of tears. “I’ve cried more today than I have in five years.”

My family laughed and filtered through the door to surround me on the bed, peppering me with kisses and enfolding me in hugs. We settled with my head on Mama’s soft chest, Giselle’s on my stomach with her legs over Sinclair, and Sebastian’s on my thigh. Salvatore sat at my feet, smiling alternatively at me and then at Mama, his big, thick hands on my ankles.

“I thought you were all dead,” I tried to explain through my incessant tears. “I thought you were all dead because of things I did, and I imagined the rest of my miserable life without you all, and I wanted to do more than die. I wanted to stop existing.”

“Ah, piccola,” Mama cooed as she stroked my hair back from my face. “Your husband and Dante got most of us out before the bomb exploded. Alexander, he followed you when you went to the back because he had a sense of danger, and when you could not be found, he pushed everyone out.”

“It was a sight to behold,” Giselle admitted, giggling softly. “These two huge men grabbing people as they went, pushing and yelling for everyone to get out of the restaurant.”

“Two killed,” Salvatore muttered darkly. “Your mama’s sous chef and one of Dante’s boys.”

“I’ll go to the funeral,” I said immediately. “Xan and I will pay for it.”

“You won’t. It’s done, and I took care of it,” my dad said, his thick brows nearly obscuring his furious eyes. “Just as I will take care of the di Carlo scum who involved themselves with Noel.”

“Tore,” Mama soothed. “Calmarsi.”

Settle down.

I was surprised by the empathy in her soft mouth and her gentle words. Mama hadn’t had a kind word to say to the love of her life in decades, and now, it seemed, she was condoning the violent thoughts and future actions Salvatore planned against a rival mafia syndicate.

“Whoa,” I breathed, making wide eyes at Sebastian who chuckled.

“Elena isn’t here because she’s keeping her promise to you,” Sinclair interjected, picking up my hand to clasp it between his own. “She and the rest of the legal team are looking after Dante.”

I closed my eyes at the sharp sting of relief and deeper pulse of agony in my chest. The vision of my gorgeous, big man Dante in an ugly orange jumpsuit caged in a drab room of concrete all day made me physically ill. He didn’t deserve to be there.

I did.

Maybe even Xan did.

But not Dante, not my beloved best friend.

“She’s going to get him out,” Sin promised. “Trust me, she’s a shark.”

I nodded but didn’t give voice to my lingering fears because I didn’t want them out there in the universe manifesting.

My eye snagged on Riddick lingering just outside of the door, forever my sentry.

“Rid, come in and meet my family,” I called out.

He scowled.

“Come,” I demanded.

He moved slightly into the door on leaden steps that screamed how reluctant he was to socialize, revealing Douglas behind him, carrying a large silver tray loaded with his gorgeous pastries.

“Enough of the heavy,” Douglas announced. “Time for treats and a good chinwag. Giselle, love, Cosima tells me you lived in Paris. We must talk about all the places where you ate.”

“Riddick? I hear you taught Cosima how to fence. Think you have time to teach me a thing or two? You see, I have this film coming up…” Sebastian launched into discussion with the large, stoic man as if they had been friends for life.

I laughed as Douglas swept into the room followed by two servants carrying tea and champagne, and I continued to laugh, as I hadn’t for years, while my two families comingled.

Cosima

The surprises didn’t end there.

Riddick unearthed a large white box from my closet tied with a note from Alexander requesting I wear its contents that night. Giselle ripped the wrapping apart with me, both of us giggling as we hadn’t done since we were girls. We stopped at the sight of the white silk dress cushioned by mountains of gold tissue paper. The fabric was cool and slippery as I held it up to my body, and it shone in the light like a saltwater pearl.

“Stunning,” Giselle murmured as she fingered the fabric. “I have to paint you in this one day.”

“Here,” Riddick had said, thrusting another, smaller hat box at me.

Inside lay a golden crown of thorns intermingled with fresh, fragrant flowers.

And I knew without needing confirmation that Alexander wanted me to look like Persephone in her maiden white, plucking flowers from a meadow when the Dead God broke through the earth to abduct her.

“Look at her,” Mama whispered, her voice thick with tears. “She looks so much in love.”

“Si,” Salvatore murmured back. “Just as her mother once looked at me.”