Chapter 29 Sara/Gabe

The drive to Salvatore’s house felt like stepping into a different world. I’d seen pictures of the Ricci estate before, usually in news articles or whispered gossip, but nothing prepared me for the real thing. The house was huge. Not just big, massive, sprawling across the property like something out of a movie. Stone, dark wood, tall windows, and a front entrance wide enough to fit three cars side‑by‑side. It looked exactly like the home of a man who ran an empire. And somehow… it was about to be our home.

The front doors opened before we even reached them. A butler, an actual butler, stood waiting, dressed in a crisp suit.

“Welcome home, sir,” he said with a respectful nod to Salvatore. Then he smiled warmly at me and Gabe. “Mrs. Vega. Young master.”

I nearly choked. Gabe puffed up like he’d just been knighted. Inside, two maids were already moving through the foyer, adjusting vases and straightening rugs. Somewhere deeper in the house, I heard voices, two cooks preparing lunch, judging by the clatter of pans and the smell of garlic.

Salvatore slipped his hand into mine.

“Let me give you the tour.”

He started with the main floor, an enormous living room with a fireplace big enough to stand in, a dining room that could seat twenty, a kitchen that looked like a restaurant, and a sunroom filled with plants. Then he opened the back doors. The backyard stretched out like a private park. A stone patio, a grill station, a garden, and...

“A pool!” Gabe shouted, running to the edge of the covered area.

“It’s February,” I reminded him, laughing.

“It’ll be open by summer,” Salvatore said. “And heated.”

Gabe practically vibrated with excitement.

Salvatore pointed to a stairwell off the kitchen. “Basement’s down there. That’s for the workers.”

I knew what he meant, his men. His security. His world. I didn’t ask questions. Not today.

We went upstairs next. Guest rooms lined the hallway, each one bigger than my entire bedroom back home. Then we reached a door painted a soft blue.

“This one’s yours,” Salvatore told Gabe. Gabe opened it and gasped. A full bed, a desk, shelves, a window seat, and space, so much space. He ran inside immediately. Across the hall was another door. “And this,” Salvatore said, “is the master.”

I blinked. “Okay… but where’s my room?”

He pointed at the master again.

I stared at him. “Salvatore.”

He smirked. “My wife sleeps with me.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “I’m not your wife.”

“Not yet,” he teased.

Before I could respond, Gabe popped his head out of his room. “Dad’s right! Moms and dads share a room.” Then he disappeared again and shut the door behind him. Traitor.

That left me and Salvatore alone in the hallway. He took my hand and gently guided me into the master bedroom. It was beautiful, warm colors, soft lighting, a balcony overlooking the backyard. He closed the door behind us, and my heart jumped. He noticed. “Relax,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I just want to talk. Alone. Without interruptions.”

His voice was calm. Steady. Safe. And for the first time since stepping into this enormous house… I let myself breathe.

**Gabe

My room was so big it felt like it echoed. I walked around touching everything again, the desk, the window seat, the shelves, just to make sure it was all still real. Mom had gone down the hall with Dad, leaving me to “get settled,” which really meant I just stood in the middle of the room grinning like an idiot.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Master Gabriel? May I come in?”

The butler stepped inside carrying two boxes and my suitcase. He moved quietly, like he’d been doing this forever, and set everything on the bed.

“I took the liberty of bringing up the rest of your belongings,” he said with a warm smile. “Would you like help unpacking?”

I nodded fast. “Yes, please.”

He opened the first box and started hanging my shirts in the closet, perfectly spaced, perfectly straight. I tried to copy him with my jeans, but mine came out crooked. He fixed them without saying anything.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Mr. Hale,” he said. “But you may call me Hale, if you like.”

“Hale,” I repeated. “Do you… work for my dad?”

“I do,” he said, smiling again. “I’ve worked for the Ricci family for many years.”

I hesitated, then lowered my voice. “So you know him pretty well?”

“Very well.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, hugging my stuffed wolf. “Do you think… do you think he really wants to marry my mom?”

Hale paused, then knelt so we were eye‑level. “Your father has wanted a family for a very long time. And he cares for your mother deeply. That much is obvious.”

I felt my chest warm. “I want them to get married. I want us to be a real family.”

Hale’s eyes softened. “Then perhaps you and I can make sure things move in the right direction.”

My eyes widened. “You’d help?”

“Of course,” he said, standing and smoothing his jacket. “A household runs best when the family at its center is happy.”

I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt. We finished unpacking together, my shirts, my sketchbook, my cars, my wolf. Hale arranged everything neatly, like he already knew where things should go. When we were done, the room felt like mine. Really mine.

Before he left, Hale turned back at the door. “Master Gabriel,” he said gently, “your parents are speaking privately. Are you hungry? I can take you down stairs to get something to eat.”

I nodded, hugging my wolf again. Because now I had a plan. And I had help. And if Hale was right, if Dad really loved Mom, then maybe, just maybe…We’d be a real family soon.