Chapter 116 REBUILDING A LIFE
Chapter 116 REBUILDING A LIFE
••Luciana••
Rebuilding a life in the middle of a mafia war is exhausting, but rebuilding a family is even harder. Now that the Orlovs knew about the baby, I felt a desperate need to bridge the gap with my own blood. I hadn't seen Antonio or Matteo since before the vacation, and things with Antonio had ended on a note so bitter it still left a bad taste in my mouth.
Roman arranged for them to come to a neutral, high-security lounge he owned in the city. He knew I needed this. When we walked in, the scent of expensive leather and aged whiskey hit me. Antonio and Matteo were already there, sitting in a velvet booth, looking every bit the hardened men our father had raised them to be.
The silence was thick as I sat down opposite them, Roman standing like a protective shadow at my shoulder. Theo was leaning against the bar nearby, watching the interaction with an amused glint in his eye.
Antonio was the first to speak. He cleared his throat, his eyes unusually soft as they landed on me.
“Luci,” he began, his voice rough. “I’m not a man of many words, you know that. But I need to say this before we do anything else. I’m sorry. For going MIA, for not reaching out... and especially for the things I said to you the last time we spoke. I was stressed, I was angry, but that’s no excuse to treat my sister like an enemy.”
I felt a lump form in my throat. Antonio was the most stubborn man I knew; hearing an apology from him was like seeing rain in the desert.
“It’s okay, Antonio,” I whispered, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “I was worried sick, but Roman told me you were working with him to keep me safe. That counts for something.”
“It counts for a lot,” Matteo chimed in, a grin breaking across his face. “But enough of the heavy stuff. Roman said you had news that couldn't wait for a phone call. What is it? Did you finally decide to leave this grump and come back to our estate?”
“In your dreams, Matteo,” Roman retorted, sitting down beside me and sliding an arm around my waist. He looked at me, giving me the floor.
“I’m pregnant,” I said, the words feeling lighter every time I spoke them.
The reaction was instantaneous. Matteo’s jaw hit the table, and Antonio’s eyes widened so far I thought they might pop out. Then, as if on cue, they both burst into laughter.
“A mini-Roman?” Matteo cackled, signaling the waiter for another round of drinks—though he paused and pointed at my water glass. “No more gin for you, little sister. God, I can already see it. A baby with Roman’s scowl and your attitude? The world isn't ready.”
“It’s going to be a disaster,” Antonio laughed, the tension finally breaking completely. “The child is going to be a nightmare. We should just start calling him ‘Little Terror’ now.”
“Or ‘Stubborn Junior,’” Theo added from the bar, walking over to join the table. “I’ve spent a month with Luci; if the kid gets even ten percent of her hardheadedness, Roman is going to have grey hair by the time the baby is two.”
“Hey!” I protested, though I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. “I am not that stubborn!”
“Luci,” Roman said, looking at me with a deadpan expression. “You once spent three hours arguing that a specific shade of blue was actually ‘moody teal’ just to spite me.”
“It was moody teal!”
“Case in point,” Matteo pointed at me, laughing. “See? ‘Little Moody’ it is. Or maybe ‘General Luci’ because you know that kid is going to be barking orders from the crib.”
“I can see it now,” Antonio mused, leaning back. “The kid is going to refuse to eat his mashed peas because they aren't the ‘right texture’ and Roman will be there, the most feared man in Russia, desperately trying to negotiate with a toddler.”
“‘If you eat the peas, I’ll let you see the armory,’” Roman joked, his voice surprisingly light.
“Don’t you dare show our child an armory before they can walk, Roman Orlov!” I snapped, poking him in the ribs.
“See? There it is!” Matteo cheered, clinking his glass against Antonio’s. “The Orlov-Costa hybrid. A mix of Italian fire and Russian ice. That kid is going to be the most pampered, terrifying human being on the planet.”
The afternoon melted away into stories and laughter. We talked about our childhood, about the stupid things Antonio and Matteo used to do to get out of training, and how Roman and Theo used to compete over everything. For a few hours, we weren't mafia royalty. we weren't targets with bounties on our heads. We were just siblings and friends, celebrating a new life.
Antonio looked at me, his expression turning serious for a moment. “Truly, Luci. We’re happy for you. And don’t worry about the danger. Between the Costas and the Orlovs, that baby is going to have the biggest army in history protecting their nursery.”
“I know,” I said, feeling a deep sense of peace. “I’m not scared anymore. Well, maybe a little scared of how much you guys are going to spoil him.”
“Oh, we’re going to be the worst uncles ever,” Matteo promised with a wink. “I’m already looking at miniature motorcycles.”
“Absolutely not!” I screamed, but the table just erupted in more laughter.
Roman pulled me closer, his hand resting on my stomach. He didn't say much, but I could tell he was moved by the sight of our families finally being on the same page. The war with Marco was still out there, lurking in the dark, but in this room, the light was winning.
As we walked back to the car later that evening, Roman looked at me with a smirk. “So, ‘Little Terror,’ huh?”
“Don’t even start,” I groaned. “If you call my baby that, I’m locking you out of the bedroom.”
“See?” He laughed, pulling me into a kiss. “Stubborn. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
We drove back to the estate in the quiet of the night, my heart full. The baby wasn't even here yet, and they were already bringing people together. I looked out at the lights of Russia, knowing that the fight ahead would be hard, but for the first time, I felt like we had already won the most important battle. We had a family. And we had something worth fighting for.