Chapter 2

Unspoken Desires - Chapter 2

Sophia

The sun was warm on my shoulders, and the prosecco was fizzing in my glass like it was celebrating right along with us.

Vegas in the spring had a way of turning gold at just the right angle - reflections bouncing off the skyline like nature’s confetti.

I leaned back against my cushioned patio chair, toes curling in my sandals, laughing at something my future mother-in-law had just said about the number of groomsmen, their tuxes and the universal incompetence of men when it came to planning anything.

“Oh, come on,” I grinned. “You’re telling me Matteo didn’t pick out my engagement ring by himself?”

Connie let out a full, delighted laugh, the kind that made you forget she was one of the most powerful women in the city. “Absolutely not. I sent him three photos and threatened to burn his company to the ground if he didn’t choose one before he was ready to pick you up for dinner.”

I nearly choked on my drink. “You’re terrifying, Connie. No wonder Miguel’s still head over heels.”

She gave me a mischievous smile, her eyes twinkling behind oversized sunglasses. Placing her hand gently over mine. “I would really like it if you started calling us Mom and Dad. We love you so much and I couldn’t be happier with the way everything turned out. But anyhow, Miguel knows better than to cross me. Besides, I’m not terrifying. I’m just… efficient.”

The comment made me pause. Riccardo was never a father and Mom, she tried to love me, to care for me, to protect me and lead me in the right direction. But I was selfish. I never saw her reasons.

I blink my eyes, trying to fight the memories of what I had done.

Constance must have noticed my dilemma, because she squeezed my hand again, silently letting me know that she understands.

The patio was quiet except for the murmur of some lunch-goers and the occasional clink of silverware.

We were tucked into the corner of a rooftop bistro in Summerlin trying to shade ourselves under a huge beach umbrella, with the restaurants logo embroidered into it. We were also two bottles into celebration mode after our first official meeting with my wedding planner.

We’d just finalized the date - next spring, right after Damian and Sareena’s wedding. Connie had already started dropping not-so-subtle hints about wanting grandkids.

“You know,” she said, swirling the prosecco lazily, “I always pictured myself with two beautiful little granddaughters running barefoot in the mansion. Maybe a grandson with Matteo’s dimples, but all three will need to have your sass.”

I coughed. “Let’s get through the wedding first.”

But there was a weird warmth in my chest. One I hadn’t expected. One I wasn’t sure I deserved. Still, I smiled.

I looked up at her when she quickly pulled her hand from mine. I saw her expression shift, eyes freezing mid-sparkle and lips falling into a hard, thin line.

Her glass lowered slowly to the table, the ease gone from her shoulders like someone had flipped off a switch.

I turned slowly to follow her gaze.

Across the terrace, standing just outside the hostess stand, was a woman in white linen trousers and a pearl-button blouse, her hair styled in that careful, old-money way that made everything feel like a performance.

She stood stiffly, clutching her purse too tight, and I didn’t need Connie to say a word to know who it was. My supposed Step-Mom. Married to our biological father Alessandro DeLuca, disgraced ex consiglieri of the Camorra. Stripped of his title because my future father-in-law wouldn’t accept his carelessness.

Over the past year. Sareena and I have been spending a lot of time talking on the phone. Reconnecting with one another and trying to put the pieces of our lives together.

Alessandro and Maria’s names have come up a lot. So has Marcella, our half sister, Matteo’s first love.

My Matteo.

Marcella - that name slid into a space between Matteo and I, like a blade. He never talked about her, even showed any reaction to her, not really but I could feel the ghost of her in every perfect thing I could never be.

Maria hadn’t seen us yet. She was scanning the restaurant, lips pursed, like she was looking for her party. But there was no mistaking the way Connie’s entire demeanor changed. Cooler now, sharper, more regal.

“Maria,” Connie said coldly. “Of course. She just had to show up to ruin our perfect day.”

I stared at the woman again, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of her presence.

“She hasn’t aged at all,” Connie muttered. “Botox and denial will do that.”

“She hasn’t seen us yet, we can get our bill and just leave. Don’t let her ruin our day.” I said.

“I don’t care if she does see us. I am out for brunch with my beautiful daughter-in-law, I am not going to hide from anyone.” Connie snapped. But her jaw flexed, her grip tightening around the stem of her glass. For a second, neither of us said anything.

Then I asked, “What happened between you two? You two were best friends, just like sisters.”

Connie looked at me and for a brief moment, I saw it. The grief she was feeling for a cherished friendship betrayed. Something sharper than rage and older than pain.

“She blamed me,” she said, voice low, “for what happened to Alessandro. Blames me because I wouldn’t fight with Miguel to reinstate him as the Consiglieri. She cared more for his position than she did about her daughter’s suicide.”

I blinked. “But it was Alessandro’s fault that all happened.”

“He ignored every warning Miguel gave him,” she cut in. “He made deals behind our backs, played both sides, and got sloppy. But Maria? No. She needed someone to blame. And I was convenient. Because we used to sit on this exact patio, drinking the same prosecco, dreaming about our children getting married.”

She looked away.

“I stood by her after Marcella was taken. I cried for that girl like she was mine. And Maria still spat in my face. Said if I’d been a real friend, I would’ve made Miguel protect Alessandro instead of replace him.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” Connie agreed. “But in this life, fairness is a luxury no one can afford.”

We both turned back toward the entrance.

Maria had spotted us. And for a second, just a blink - our eyes met. She didn’t smile. Neither did Connie.

Maria turned away. Asked the hostess for a table inside. And disappeared.

Connie exhaled slowly and downed the rest of her drink. “Let’s order dessert. I feel like burning through something sweet.”

I reached for the menu, but not before glancing back one last time, accidentally catching a glimpse of someone I was hoping never to see again.

Svetlana.

Gino

The smell of fresh espresso filled the kitchen as I leaned back in my chair, watching Alexandra move around with quiet ease. She always made my espresso just right.

Today was the twins birthdays and both were too busy to see me.

I watch as Alex began plating my dinner, humming softly like she always did.

This house used to be louder, more family running around, the kids gathering. Now the quiet just felt heavy.

There were years when everything felt like it might fall apart around us.

Sophia’s secrets, lies, and deceptions.

Sareena being gone for so long, only to come back and be betrayed by those who were supposed to love her. Then she ran. From those trying to hurt her and those she loved. Then she ran again because of betrayal and lies. That poor girl. Only twenty and already lived so hard.

But we made it through. All of us. Together.

The kids put their differences aside and risked everything to bring Sareena back. And now, we’ve landed here. With both my granddaughters finally smiling. Actually happy.

They’re both in love and both are planning their weddings. Living the lives they always wanted, the ones we all prayed they’d have someday.

Lately, I’ve started stepping back from most of my Familia duties, only checking in to make sure that everything’s still standing.

I’ve let Damian take over. It was the right time. He still has a few years before I hand over the title and Connecticut, but he’ll get there.

Alexandra set a plate in front of me, patting my shoulder to pull me out of my thoughts.

“Thank you, Alex,” I said quietly.

She smiled, then moved to the doors, speaking softly to the gardener outside.

I watched her, the way she always gave more than she asked for. Nearly ten years as my assistant, three years as my wife. She’s never demanded anything. Not even once. She never reminded me of what she gave up to marry a man like me.

If life hadn’t unraveled the way it did, I wouldn’t have married her, but I am glad I did.

I still mourn Evelyn. But, I held onto that grief for too long. Like it gave me permission to stay alone. But Alexandra… she stayed. Soft. Steady.

There when I needed her. Patient, even when I didn’t say a word. And lately, I’ve found myself wanting more of her. Reaching for her hand without thinking. Missing her when she’s not beside me.

It no longer feels like betrayal. It feels like coming home. It feels like peace.

I stood and crossed the kitchen, catching her just as she was pointing something out to the gardener. I pulled her into my arms and kissed her.

She gasped, laughing softly, cheeks bright red. “Gino! People can see.”

“Let them,” I said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Now that the girls are planning weddings and don’t need me for anything except walking them down the aisle and paying for the church and the flowers… I think it’s time we took a trip.”

Her eyes widened.

“You always said you wanted to visit the old country. Let’s go. Call it a belated honeymoon.”

She blushed deeper and threw her arms around me.

I kissed her cheek. “I’ll make the arrangements. I’ll let both Bambina and my Princess know.”