Chapter 60 Chapter 60

Chapter 60 Chapter 60
Belladonna 
I descend the stairs slowly, every step echoing in the house until the open garden lights swallow me. The night is alive with golden fairy lights strung above the long table, their glow catching on crystal glasses and polished silverware. The table is dressed to perfection, white linen, candles flickering gently, bowls of colorful salads,and freshly grilled meat sending waves of smoky aroma across the garden.
I smooth down my long pink dress, the silk flowing like water around me, my white heels clicking softly against the stone path. My hair falls loose, framing my face in soft waves, my makeup sharp enough to cut. The gold jewelry glints at my wrists and ears, the perfect finishing touch.
Enzo stands tall at the barbecue grill, a beer in his hand, smoke curling upward into the night. The butler stands ready at his side. My brother looks dangerous, shoulders filling out his white shirt, beard trimmed perfectly, his jaw set, every inch the mafia leader he is.
I grab a bottle of beer from the ice bucket, its chill seeping into my palm. My mother walks out from the kitchen carrying a large bowl of salad, setting it down gracefully at the table. She looks elegant in her pearl-gray dress, her hair pulled back, always the queen of her vintage kingdom.
My father is already seated, wearing a dark blue shirt, his expression unreadable, though I can tell his mind is plotting something—as always. His eyes scan everything with quiet calculation.
Then I hear it—the low growl of engines. Three black cars glide into the driveway like shadows. My heart beats faster, even though I tell myself it shouldn’t.
The first door opens, and Lily steps out with Sebastian. She looks stunning in her black dress, matching her husband’s sharp black suit. Her smile softens the night instantly. Antonio follows behind in a dark green suit, his presence steady, reliable. And then—Dante.
He steps out last, in all black. Black shirt, black trousers, black jacket. The way the lights hit his frame makes him look carved from sin itself. My stomach twists, but I stand tall, masking it with indifference.
“Belladonna!” Lily’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. She rushes to me and hugs me tightly, the scent of her perfume familiar, comforting. She pulls back, pressing a chilled bottle of champagne into my hand. “You look so adorable.”
“Not much prettier as you,” I say, giving her a once-over from head to toe.
She laughs. “Stop.”
“How is the baby?” I ask, my hand instinctively resting on her belly.
“Fine. The baby’s fine.” Her eyes sparkle when she says it, and it makes me smile.
We move down the line of greetings—Sebastian’s firm handshake, Antonio’s polite nod. And then I bump into him.
“Hi, Belladonna.”
My name on Dante’s lips feels like a prayer, soft yet sinful. His smirk lingers, the one I know too well—the one he reserves only for me.
I look him in the eye, keeping my face composed, my voice calm. “Hi, Dante.”
Before he can say another word, I turn and walk away, pretending his gaze doesn’t burn into my back. But it does. His eyes follow me like chains I can’t shake off.
We all take our seats at the long table. Dante sits directly across from me, of course. I’m beside my mother, Lily is next to me, and the men scatter around us. Conversation fills the air, laughter mixing with the scent of grilled meat and the hum of fairy lights.
I focus on Lily, leaning toward her, my voice warm. “So tell me, which gender do you personally think the baby is?”
Her face scrunches adorably, her hands fluttering. “I don’t know! I’m so damn confused.”
“I’m team boy,” Dante cuts in smoothly, his eyes locking on me as if the words are meant for me and not Lily.
“I think it’s a girl,” Antonio adds.
“I want both 
a girl and a boy,” Sebastian says, making Lily blush.
I giggle softly, shaking my head. “This is the most suspenseful period, just waiting.”
“I can’t wait to start shopping for little clothes,” Lily says, her eyes lighting up.
“Oh yes, don’t forget to take me with you,” I tell her, placing a dramatic hand over my heart. “I want to choose as many things as I can for the baby.”
She takes my hand, squeezing it. “Of course. How can I forget you? You’re my guardian angel, Belladonna. I can’t imagine a life without you.”
“Oh, Lily…” My chest swells at her words.
“I can’t with the two of you,” Sebastian chuckles, shaking his head.
The table bursts into laughter, glasses clinking, food being passed around. The atmosphere is warm, full of family and celebration.
But across the table, I feel his gaze again. Dante doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t join in. He only looks at me, like he’s reading the parts of me I try so hard to keep hidden.
And I hate how much my pulse races under his stare.
The atmosphere is warm and vibrant, an elegant family dinner, but it carries the underlying weight of mafia power at the same time.
I sip my champagne slowly, pretending to be fully absorbed in Lily’s chatter, though I can feel Dante’s gaze burning through me like a flame that refuses to die. His eyes follow every small gesture I make—the way my hair falls over my shoulders, the movement of my lips when I smile, the rings that glitter on my fingers when I reach for my glass.
Our conversation drifts toward ages, playful and teasing.
“My brother’s twenty-nine,” I say proudly, flashing Enzo a grin. He smirks, taking another sip of beer, though his eyes remain sharp, al always calculating.
“I’m twenty-two.” My voice is casual, but I notice Dante’s lips twitch at the corner as if my words mean more to him than they should.
“I’m the same as you,” Lily murmurs, placing a hand on her belly, her cheeks glowing in the light.
“I know Sebastian is thirty-one,” I add, glancing at him. He gives me a small nod, as if confirming.
“And Dante,” I tilt my head, meeting his stare just long enough before tearing away, “twenty-seven.”
His smirk deepens at the way I say his age, like I’ve just confessed to knowing too much. The laughter lingers even as plates are cleared, glasses half-filled with wine left on the table.
Then my eyes land on Antonio, lounging back in his chair with his glass of red wine, his beard perfectly groomed, eyes glinting with amusement. “What about you?” I tease. “Forty-two?”
The Manchini brothers burst into laughter. Even Sebastian shakes his head, lips tugging into a rare grin.
“Wait, no. Do I look forty-two?” Antonio asks, running a hand over his beard with exaggerated offense.
“I don’t know.” I laugh so hard my shoulders shake, my cheeks burning from it. “I’ve always heard you’re the eldest brother.”
Lily taps my shoulder, nearly spilling her drink from giggling. “If he’s the eldest, Bella, does that really mean he’s forty-two?”
Everyone laughs harder, and I press my hand to my mouth, trying to contain my grin.
Antonio leans forward, grinning wide. “Okay, I’ll give you a second chance. Guess again.”
I gulp down some champagne, my eyes narrowing playfully. “Fine. Forty?” I smirk, almost daring him.
The laughter roars louder, and Antonio throws his head back. “Damn no, Belladonna. I’m thirty-five. Why are you trying to make me an old man?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, chuckling softly. “I don’t know… I thought that was your age.”
When I glance up, Dante is already staring at me, gawking, really—with that smile tugging at his lips, the kind that makes my pulse quicken against my will. His eyes hold mine for a moment too long, and suddenly the laughter around us feels distant, drowned out by the weight of his attention.
The men drift away toward the poolside, their voices low and rough, mixing with the faint crackle of lighters and the distinct smell of smoke. My father, Enzo, Sebastian, Antonio, and Dante all stand together, shadows under the string of fairy lights reflecting in the water. They look like kings plotting over cigars and cigarettes, shoulders squared, postures sharp.
Meanwhile, Lily and I pull a scarf over our shoulders and settle on the garden bench. The night is cool, quiet, and filled with the sound of crickets.
I break the silence first, my voice low, almost bitter. “Yesterday Dante dropped me home. He was trying to flirt with me, and I hate him.”
Lily tilts her head toward me, her expression soft, curious. “Dante is a nice guy,” she says gently, her voice carrying a kind of innocence I can’t afford to believe in. “I don’t know why you hate him so much.”
The sharpness in me rises, uncontainable. “He did something to me that makes me hate his entire existence,” I snap, my tone cold as stone. My hands tighten on the scarf, as if I need the fabric to hold me together.
Lily’s eyes soften instantly. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, her warmth seeping through. “Okay, it’s fine,” she murmurs, kissing my cheek like a sister. “You can hate him as much as you want. Just don’t ruin your mood, Belladonna.”
Her words melt some of the tension inside me, and I nod, managing a small smile. “Yeah…”
By the time the men finish smoking, the garden feels quieter, settled. Engines hum as sleek black cars line up at the gate. One by one, they all say their goodbyes.
I hug Lily tightly before she slips into Sebastian’s car. “Take care of the baby,” I whisper.
Sebastian clasps my hand lightly and then Antonio steps forward, his grin playful. He pinches my nose and pulls me into a light hug. “Remember my age now, Belladonna,” he teases.
I laugh softly and nod. “Thirty-five. Got it.”
Finally, Dante stands before me. He doesn’t say a word, no joke, no teasing remark. Instead, he leans in and brushes a kiss against one cheek, then the other. His cologne, dark and heady, lingers between us.
When he pulls back, his eyes lock onto mine, steady and unreadable. He just looks at me, like he’s trying to carve his way into me without saying a word. My breath stutters, but I don’t let it show.
Then, without breaking the stare until the very last second, he turns, gets into his black BMW, and shuts the door. The engine roars, the cars roll out through the gates, and the night falls into silence again.