Chapter 410 412

Chapter 410 412
“No, you can handle it. I’ve already said my goodbyes. Oh… but there is one more thing you can do for me.”

“Anything,” I say solemnly. “Name it and it’s yours.”

“Will you tell Aisling? She deserves to know her nightmare is over.”

I promised her I would. Then I’d spent the next few days watching her, waiting for her to break down. But the sadness I’d expected never came.

Apparently, she really had said her goodbyes.

But he was the last familiar face in her life. And after his death, she’d moved into my home, assimilated into my life, left behind the self she’d spent decades trying to escape. I appreciated how difficult the adjustment was for her. How difficult it still is.

But I couldn’t be prouder of her.

“I’m your family,” I remind her as often as I can. I say it again right now.

She tilts her face towards me and smiles. “Of course you are, my love,” she says with a nod. “I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t. I just… I know next to nothing about my parents, and I want…”

“Answers,” I finish when she trails off. “I know. I understand.”

She gives me a kiss on the cheek and leans her head against my chest as we drive through the city in the direction of the Grand Regent, where we’re meeting someone for lunch.

She’s made an effort for this meeting. She’s wearing a soft yellow dress that drapes over her shoulders and flows down her body. If you didn’t see the stomach, you wouldn’t even realize she was pregnant.

But Renata owns everything about her pregnancy. She’s one of those women who’ll find any excuse to announce to the world that she’s going to have a baby.

A miracle baby. That’s how she refers to our child.

“I wasn’t meant to get pregnant by anyone other than you,” she told me the night I asked her to marry me. I’d replied with the only thing I could: a kiss that started in my soul.

“Why are we bringing an entire entourage?” she asks now, lifting her head from my chest.

“Because we need to make a show of power.”

She frowns. “Kian, he’s my grandfather.”

“He’s the Mariani don.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t a threat to you.”

“Not the point. It’s about making sure he knows where he stands in the pecking order. I will respect him. But he has to respect me.”

“He’s been pretty respectful so far,” she points out.

“And I plan on keeping it that way.”

She snakes her fingers between mine and I return pressure. It’s surprising how much I enjoy these intimate gestures. I’m not exactly the touchy-feely type. At least, I wasn’t before I met Renata. But there’s an easy comfort between us now. One that’s helped us in the bedroom, too.

Renata still has trouble submitting to me completely. The lack of control makes her feel untethered, vulnerable. She wants it—she just isn’t sure yet how to fully let go.

Of course, we’ve had to take a break from the rough stuff in the last couple of months since Renata’s stomach swelled. But there’s a certain unrestrained wildness in passionate, slow lovemaking, too. I’m the one who has things to learn about that. And she has lots to teach me.

I lean in and kiss her temple. As my lips press against her soft skin, I realize how stiff she is. “Are you nervous?”

She sighs. “Duh.”

I laugh. “He’s the one who’s been asking to meet you, remember?”

She gives me a shaky smile just as we pull up to the secluded five-star resort nestled between two massive golf courses.

Our entourage consists of five men. I’d wanted to bring twice that number, but I’d changed my mind. I don’t want the old don to get the impression I’m nervous about this meeting. I’m not. I just tend to get a little overprotective where Renata and our child is concerned.

The concierge is standing at the entrance to greet us. He’s dressed in a suit tailored to perfection and wearing a simpering smile. “Mr. O’Sullivan,” he says, clasping his hands together. “Ms. Lombardi. It is a pleasure to welcome you to the Grand Regent.”

“We’re meeting—”

“Don Mariani,” the concierge finishes for me. “Of course, sir. He’s waiting in one of our private dining rooms for you both.”

“He’s here already?” Renata hisses. “Are we late?”

“The man’s been an absent grandfather your entire life. He can wait five extra minutes.”

The concierge leads us through the hotel towards the private dining rooms. I know immediately which one Mariani is in because his men stand at attention outside the door. They move aside when we approach, so I turn to my own soldiers. “You boys stay out here. Make friends and play nice.”

Then the concierge opens the door to a large room that overlooks part of the golf course. The old gentleman sitting at the table inside turns his gaze towards us, and then slowly, he rises to his feet.

He’s wearing a beautiful blue suit that manages to dress up his potbellied frame. He’s almost as tall as I am and his eyes are the same exact shade as Renata’s.

She stays glued to my side, like she doesn’t know what to do now that she’s here. So I take her hand and pull her along towards Mattias Mariani. Her grandfather.

“Thank you for finally agreeing to meet me, Renata,” he intones in a deep voice, addressing her first. His eyes flicker to her stomach.

She nods, drinking in his features like she’ll find all the answers there.

Then he turns to me. “Don O’Sullivan,” he says with a respectful half-bow.

It’s a good start. I clasp his hand and shake. “Don Mariani.”

“Please,” he says as he releases my hand, “let’s sit. I took the liberty of ordering us some drinks. Renata, I’ve ordered a selection of fresh juices for you.”

“Thank you,” she says. The moment she’s seated, she rests her hands over her belly. “I know you’ve wanted to meet me for a while,” she starts. “But I… just wasn’t ready.”

“I can understand that, after everything you’ve been through.”

I study the man closely as he and Renata talk. I’m only here to support her. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to wanting to get a proper read on the elusive Mariani don.

“I want to know about my mother,” Renata says bluntly.

Mattias smiles softly. There’s a definite paternal glimmer in his eyes. I wonder how much Renata resembles her mother to trigger it.

“It makes sense that you’d want to know about your mother before you yourself become one,” he says slowly. “As an aside, congratulations are in order, I believe.”

She smiles. It’s the first smile I’ve seen from her all day that’s free of nerves and uncertainty. “Thank you.”

“How far along are you?”

“Just past seven months,” she tells him. “Only a couple more to go.”

“You must be excited.”

“Very.”