When Heroes Fall (Anti-Heroes in Love 1)

“You okay, Donna Elena?” Bruno asked from the elevator where he still had a clear sight of me, stalled at the mouth of the living room.

His voice tuned Dante in to my presence, his face forming a smile before he even lifted his head to look at me.

Dio mio.

I rubbed the heel of my hand so hard into my chest I felt certain it would bruise.

“Buona sera,” he greeted me, already abandoning his dinner project to wipe his floured hands on a towel. “I was hoping you would be back in time to meet the love of my life.”

The girl laughed, throwing her little folded piece of pasta at Dante so it left a mark on his black button-up shirt. He growled at her, causing her to shriek with joy and throw more pasta grenades at him. When he lunged for her, she lifted her arms for him to pick her up even though she screamed as if she was frightened. By the time he planted her on his hip, she was over their little game and happily settled in his arms.

“Hello,” she called to me as Dante approached. “My name is the Love of Dante’s Life.”

The smile that warmed my face felt alien and vulnerable. I touched my other hand to my lips, then immediately lowered it when Dante frowned at me.

“Hello, beautiful,” I greeted as they trekked through the living room to my side. “Dante speaks of nothing but you.”

“I know,” she said confidently with a sage nod of her head that made me want to burst into laughter. “Boys are always falling in love with me, you know?”

“Are they?” I asked, then clucked my tongue. “You know, I’m not surprised. You’re very pretty, and more, I bet you’re smart.”

“One time, someone called me a genius,” she told me solemnly.

“That was your mum, gioia,” he pointed out. “Mothers always tell us we are better than we are because they love us. That is why you have uncles, to tell you the hard truths.”

She frowned at him. “Zio, am I a genius?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed immediately to her avid delight.

I couldn’t help the laugh that emerged fragile as a blown bubble from my lips. They were absolutely adorable together, and I just couldn’t understand what was happening.

I’d thought Dante’s only sibling was Alexander.

He read the confusion in my look and grinned as he set the girl down and offered his hand for her to do a twirl. “Elena, this is Aurora.”

“Don’t call me Sleeping Beauty,” she warned me before I could say anything, fisting her hands on her hips. “I don’t like princesses.”

“Alright,” I agreed. “I don’t really like them either.”

She eyed me suspiciously. “Not even Cinderella.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Especially not her.”

“How come?” she pushed.

I thought about it because she deserved a good answer. “Princesses always need saving, and I’ve always wanted to be the type of woman that saved herself. Maybe even the one who saved her handsome prince in the end instead.”

Aurora’s big brown eyes went wide before she nodded soberly. “Yeah, that’s why I don’t like them either. They’re sciocco.”

“There are different types of women in the world, gioia. There are soft ones who need saving, but maybe they have good, tender hearts that need protecting. And you know what?” Dante asked, stroking a big hand down her head as he shot me a sidelong glance. “Even the strong ones need saving sometimes.”

“Not me,” she crowed, turning to jump up on the marble coffee table, dislodging a vase that tumbled harmlessly to the carpet. She struck a sword-fighting pose. “I’m going to be the saver.”

“The savior,” I corrected.

“Okay,” she said easily. “That’s why I think my name’s stupido.”

I considered her for a second, then grabbed the long vase from the floor and used it to dub her like a knight. “Then, I think we should call you Rora, warrior princess.”

Her eyes bugged out at me. “Like the lion's roar.”

“Exactly like that,” I agreed, beaming back at her.

“Okay,” she said again in that adorably confident way like nothing in life fazed her. “You and me can be friends, okay?”

“Bene,” I agreed, offering my hand to shake.

She took it in her little one, and we smiled at each other so big it hurt.

“I knew you two would get along,” Dante interjected as he winked at me before heading back into the kitchen. “Elena is a fighter too.”

I passed the wink on to Rora as we both followed him into the kitchen. The place was a disaster zone, double zero flour and eggshells everywhere along with little folded ears of the orecchiette pasta.

“Your mama is not going to be happy about the mess,” Dante admitted as they returned to their stations at the island, Rora using my hand to help herself up onto the stool and then the counter.

“No, but you’re lucky. You’re old enough you don’t get time-outs,” she pouted before looking over at me. “You want to make ears with us?”