Chapter 199 202

Chapter 199 202
I turn to her. “Clearly. Here, read this. Came with the package.”

I hand Charlotte the letter so she can read it herself.

“You don’t mind?” she asks, taking it cautiously.

“Go for it.”

She reads through it slowly, her eyes moving back and forth on the page with concentration. After several minutes, she folds it up neatly and hands it back to me.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s leaving the States?”

“She’ll come back,” I say. “Sonya always finds a way.”

“That she does.”

“Anyway, I was thinking…”

“Uh oh. I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Evie will be busy for the next few hours with her new pet,” I point out. “She’s not gonna miss us for a while.”

I grab her hand and steer her towards the staircase.

“Where are we going?” Charlotte asks, laughing a little.

“Our room,” I reply.

“Our room?” Charlotte repeats, her eyes going wide.

“Our temporary room,” I clarify. “Until we move.”

“That’s news to me. We’re moving?”

“Once my house arrest is up, I’m planning on buying a new place,” I tell her. “This one has gotten blown up and raided a few too many times.”

Charlotte laughs. “A new house…”

“A new home,” I correct. “For the three of us. What do you say?”

Her hand tightens around mine as we hit the landing on the second floor. She slows a little, forcing me to turn to her.

“I’m in,” she says breathlessly. “I always wanted a home.”

Epilogue: Charlotte

Three Months Later—The New Mazzeo Mansion

“I don’t understand why Paulina couldn’t come,” Evie whines again.

I thread my fingers through her hair as I shake my head at her.

“We’ve been over this before, princess,” I tell her. “We can’t take a platypus everywhere. Or anywhere, really. Especially not when we’re shopping for new homes.”

She pouts and slouches off towards Adriano and Vanessa, who are busy examining the property’s luxurious garden.

I feel Lucio before he even touches me. He comes up silently from behind and wraps his arms around my waist.

“Well?” he asks.

I glance at the watch on my wrist.

“Should we just stop by the restaurant? Check how things are going?” I ask distractedly.

“C’mon, Charlotte,” he groans. “This is your one night off.”

“Second this week,” I correct him.

“Second night off. Fine. But you’ve been working around the clock. Opening Week was a triumph. You deserve some time to yourself. Or time to me, rather.”

“We’ve only been open a couple of weeks, Lucio,” I tell him. “I can’t relax until we hit the one-year mark at least.”

He groans again and twists me around to face him.

“I know this is your passion project,” he tells me with mock seriousness. “But I refuse to be neglected.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. The big bad don is really a big pouty baby when he thinks I’m not paying him enough attention.

“Oh, believe me—I know,” I chuckle. “I’d get more work done if you didn’t make it a habit of coming into the restaurant just to have your way with me.”

He places a solemn hand on his chest. “I am who I am, micetta.”

I laugh. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that. The health inspector might think otherwise, but—”

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Lucio dismisses. “And if he does know, then I’ll kill him.”

He waits a long moment before breaking into a wide grin.

“Only kidding.”

I fix him with a serious gaze. “I spoke to Greg this morning, by the way. He got the first check. He was thrilled.”

Lucio snorts. “I would be, too, if my soup kitchen were being funded by a gorgeous brunette with a bleeding heart and an endless bank account.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not a bleeding heart. I just believing in helping when you can.”

“Hey, it’s your restaurant funding that place,” he says with a shrug. “You get to decide how your profits are spent.”

I give him a pointed look.

“What?” he protests.

I smile. “You pretend to be removed from all this. But you’re helping the soup kitchen just as much as I am.”

He frowns. “How do you figure that?”

“The soup kitchen gets to stay open because I’m funding it, and the only reason I’m even able to fund it is because you gave me the financial and emotional support I needed to start my own restaurant.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “I wouldn’t have given you a penny if you were a terrible cook. Really, it was just a savvy business move. Excellent foresight on my part.”

I laugh. “You’re an ass. But seriously…” I rest a hand on his abs. “The restaurant is a success because of you.”

He shakes his head. “No, the restaurant is a success because you’re a fantastic chef.”

I blush a little but accept the compliment.

He must sense my doubt, because he keeps pressing. “How many times has Edmund Santiago been in with his kids?”

“Twice last week,” I admit.

“The man knows food. He’s discerning as hell. The only reason he’s a returning customer is because he enjoys what you cook. I have nothing to do with that.”

I feel a great swell of pride, but it’s still such an unfamiliar feeling for me that I just look down at my feet.

“I’m improving,” I mumble.

Lucio chuckles under his breath and shakes his head.

He knows I don’t take praise well. It’s something I’m working on.

Goodness knows there’s no shortage of it coming from his lips. If Lucio were to tell it, I’m the greatest thing to happen to the culinary world since the discovery of fire.

He’s a little over the top.

I don’t mind it, though.

He drops his lips to mine and kisses me softly for a moment. Then he twists me back around so that my back is pressed against his chest.

We look out at the garden together. Evie is running up and down a narrow grassy slope that feeds into a semi-circle of flagrant flower patches.

“Now, what do you think about this place?” he asks, lips brushing against my ear.

“It’s absolutely spectacular,” I admit. “But it’s so big.”

“Only half an acre larger than the old house.”

I frown. “You say that like it’s a small difference.”

Lucio surveys the building behind us. “I’ll need the space to build a new garage,” he tells me. “And I want a separate vaulted space that’s separate from the house.”

I frown. “Why would you need a vaulted space outside of the house?” I ask.

He raises his eyebrows at me knowingly.

“Lucio!”

“What?” he asks innocently. “I’m still the don. Shit can and will go down in the future. I want to make sure you and Evie are far away from the uglier side of the business. No more basement prison cells in our new home.”

I sigh, knowing there will be no arguing him on this point.

But I’m already starting to accept that some things will never change.

My life is laced with risk and danger now.

It’s the cost of loving Lucio.

And it’s a price I’m more than willing to pay.

“I’ll have to do a complete security sweep of the place, too. I’ll make sure everything’s done before we move in.”

“Wait,” I say, craning my neck back so I can see his face. “Does that mean you’re buying this place?”

“It means we’re buying this place,” he corrects.

I take a deep breath and step out of his arms.

“Lucio, there’s like eight guest bedrooms.”

“Nine, I think.”

“And four stories,” I point out.

He looks unfazed. “Your point?”

“I can’t contribute much towards it,” I admit. “The restaurant’s just starting out so the profit’s not much, especially with my commitment to the soup kitchen, but I think I can scrape together—”

“Charlotte,” he says, grabbing my shoulders. “Breathe. I don’t expect you to contribute anything towards the house. Apart from your presence, of course. And the occasional French toast breakfast.”

“But… you said you wanted to get this house together.”

“I meant that it would be our house, our home,” I reply. “I don’t expect you to contribute. Not financially, anyway.”

“But I want to,” I insist.