He was dark haired and green-eyed, broad and burly while his brother had been fairer haired and dark-eyed, tall, but lean. There was also something there in the swampy depths of those green eyes that was almost human.
There had been nothing human about Agostino.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, standing up to gesture to the chair across from us. “Please sit down.”
Eyes on Dante, who was coiled like a predator about to pounce, Gideone took the offered seat, keeping almost a yard of space between himself and the table.
This was how two alpha lions met without violence. Lots of space and a woman between them.
“Let’s get straight to it,” Dante declared, pulling papers out of the case he had at his feet. “We want to adopt Aurora. Technically, you have a right to object to that as her blood-uncle. We’re hoping you have some decency in you where your brother did not and you’ll sign your rights away.”
Gideone blinked at him.
I winced. “My husband meant to say that we would be honored to make Aurora part of our family officially and we need your consent to make that happen.”
His firm mouth softened. “How is she?”
A smile took my mouth before I could stop it. “She’s beautiful. We had her seventh birthday party last month. It was only family and a boy she’s had a crush on for years.” The very same eight––now nine––year old she had mentioned to Mama when she first met her. The one she wanted a kiss from.
“Bene,” Gideone murmured, looking across the street as if he was picturing it. “I am glad for that. What she saw…it would be hard on any child.”
“She didn’t sleep for weeks,” Dante growled.
I put my hand on his hard thigh and squeezed. “She’s making progress. We’re going to therapy with her once a week and she has her solo sessions too.”
Something flexed in his face, some muscle he seemed surprised still worked. “You’re good to her. She should be okay.”
“She’ll be better than okay,” Dante asserted, his hand curling into a massive fist on the table top, a territorial threat display.
I felt like I was in the middle of a David Attenborough documentary.
“She’s perfect,” Dante finished, looking down at the hand he kept in his lap where his fingers fiddled with a pink beaded bracelet she made him that read ‘il eroe.’
Hero.
I’d cried for an hour after she’d given it to him.
Gideone studied us both for a long moment then reached into his suit jacket to pull out a folded stack of papers. He tossed them on the table between us and our coffees.
“I already had my lawyer send me the documents. They’re signed,” he explained as I pulled them toward me and opened them up.
“You could have emailed them,” Dante pointed out with narrowed eyes, his whole body tense. “Why did you want to meet?”
I was sensing that Gideone was a considering man because he stared at Dante for a long second before he responded, his eyes cutting to me. “I wanted to see what kind of parents you’d make. This is le mafie, there aren’t many good ones to go around.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, holding the signed papers to my chest as it glowed with warmth. “That’s very…sweet.”
He smiled flatly at me, the expression more menacing than anything pleasant, but I appreciated that he tried. Abruptly, he stood up, but our business was finished and we would never be friends so I understood his haste to leave.
He hesitated though, knocking his knuckles against the table before he finally locked eyes with me to say, “You should know, that day in the coffee shop I wanted to take your measure. See what kind of woman you were because I knew Georgina was going to you for help.” He hesitated. “She came to me, but I couldn’t do shit. When I called later, I wanted to warn you that Agosto had gone pazzo, that he’d been talking nonsense about taking her out.” He shrugged tightly, his jaw jumping. “No excuse. I should have tried harder. Georgina didn’t deserve to die that way.”
He rapped his knuckles against the table again, turned on his heel and strode away, disappearing into an alleyway half a block down the street.
“I should have taken his calls,” I said woodenly.
I was shocked by his show of decency, but then, wasn’t I a prime example of a good person who could do bad things? Why couldn’t Gideone be a bad person capable of good?
“He was just trying to make you feel badly,” Dante grumbled, shooting back his coffee and standing to take my hand. “Andiamo, lottatrice mia. Let’s go home to Rora.”
We didn’t adopt her right away.
She needed time to mourn her parents and her uncle and we didn’t want to pressure her. We wanted her to choose us just as much as we were choosing her.