Chapter 29

CHIARA

T he mansion buzzed with life from the moment the cars began arriving.

Laughter and voices filled the air, mingling with footsteps on the stone paths leading to the grand entrance.

I stood by Rio’s side, my heart fluttering with excitement and nerves as his family descended upon Villa Teroso like a whirlwind.

It wasn’t long before a flurry of introductions washed over me.

The eldest, Lorenzo, was the clear leader of the clan and a formidable man.

In his mid-to-late thirties, he carried significant gravitas. Sinewy and commanding, each step he took demanded respect.

Tall and imposing, he had broad upper arms. Lean, muscular frame. Body tight as fuck, like a man who prioritized his fitness.

His face, a craggy-hewn sculpture of rugged masculinity and dangerous allure, featured a jawline reminiscent of the iconic figures of Italian cinema.

Dark, slicked-back hair set off piercing inky blue eyes with an alluring and threatening intensity.

He wore sweats and a tee that hugged his athletic, sinewed physique while exuding the confidence and power of a man who ran a secret and influential mafia-adjacent organization.

His ice raked me when he first stepped from the car.

I flinched, and he broke. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he swept me into a bear hug.

Alessio was tall, lean, and muscled. His deep brown, lustrous hair, highlighted in gold, fell to his shoulders. He had a groomed mustache and beard and a chiseled jaw underneath.

He was model-beautiful, with thick brows above striking eyes I sensed would melt into a heated pool of cerulean bliss or glacial sheet over like hell itself. The rest of him, rugged and stunning, carried a masculinity that would leave most women breathless.

I, too, if I hadn’t been standing next to my hunk of spunk.

Alessio’s eyes glittered with a wicked sense of humor as he shook my hand and pulled me in for a kiss on the cheek.

Vitto, the youngest, grinned at me with an easygoing charm that put me at ease. He was also beyond handsome, with wavy dark hair to his shoulders, a smirk on his sexy lips, and a confidence that only a young bull carried.

Their girlfriends, beautiful, each in their unique style, smiling and welcoming, chimed in and introduced themselves.

Cleo, Alessio’s elfin girlfriend, was kind and quick to hug me.

Mia, Lorenzo’s partner, had a new softness about her, a quiet glow that came with the infant she held in her arms.

I marveled at the couple’s surprise baby—Gio, short for Gianni, tiny, beautiful, and now adored by everyone.

‘We named him to honor the Calibreses’ departed father. It was his middle name and now his grandson’s,’ Lorenzo rasped.

Rio’s brothers encircled the child, making cooing noises I would have never expected from men so rugged and sure of themselves.

My heart swelled at the sight, but I recognized a pang of something else—a longing for something I didn’t realize I missed.

Mauri, the family consigliere, appeared from his room upstairs with his cat, Lupo, in tow.

The black feline slinked and prowled, owning the place like he was king, while Mauri’s sharp eyes took in everything with a warmth hidden behind his stoic expression.

Given our history, he greeted me with a smile and chin jerk.

The house overflowed with joyous energy in preparation for Rio’s birthday—the main reason for the gathering.

Excitement erupted in full force once everyone settled into their rooms and came downstairs a few hours later for the planned feast.

The scent of grilling meat filled the air long before I got to the terrace.

I walked into the sound, and the sight of Rio’s brothers laughing and teasing each other was like a constant background hum to the afternoon.

The garden, drenched in golden sunlight, was a vision. The heat softened by a gentle breeze that rustled the vine leaves, climbing the villa’s walls. It was idyllic, almost too perfect, like something out of a dream.

I wandered to where Lorenzo, Alessio, and Vitto gathered around the barbecue. Thick cuts of meat sizzled on the grill, the fat dripping and causing bursts of smoke to rise in little puffs.

Vitto held the tongs, flipping steaks with exaggerated precision.

Lorenzo and Alessio took turns trying to wrestle them away from him, tossing insults back and forth like it was an Olympic sport.

‘That’s not how you flip a steak!’ Alessio scoffed, shaking his head. ‘You’re going to ruin Rio’s compleanno with your incompetence.’

Vitto shot him a grin, unfazed. ‘It’s a miracle you manage to eat at all, considering your tragic palate.’

They went on like this, their jests growing louder, but their affection was evident in every jab, each dramatic roll of the eyes.

It was like watching a well-rehearsed performance they perfected over years of practice. The meat crackled and hissed as Vitto finally conceded and let Alessio take over, a playful shove between them that almost sent a plate of sausages flying.

I couldn’t help but smile at so much warmth—this family, their banter, the easy way they existed around each other.

Inside, the kitchen was a flurry of activity.

Mrs. Venetio, a woman I admired for her quiet strength and undeniable presence, was the center of it all. She led the women in making fresh pasta.

Her hands moved with the grace and speed of someone who had done this a thousand times before. She kneaded the dough with effortless precision while Cleo, Mia, and I fumbled through our attempts.

‘Not too much flour,’ Mrs. Venetio instructed in her lilting voice, her eyes twinkling as she glanced at my work. ‘It must be soft, like silk.’

I followed her lead, watching as she rolled the dough into thin sheets and cut it into perfect ribbons of tagliatelle.

The kitchen exuded all that was sacred and divine in food—tomatoes simmering in one pot, a rich ragù bubbling in another, filling the room with the heady scent of garlic, basil, and slow- cooked meat. The sauces were thick, fragrant, and gleaming with olive oil, ready to be ladled over the pasta we had just made.

The process was satisfying: working the dough with my hands, shaping it, and the wheat against my fingers.

It was messy and imperfect, but it was fuckin’ real. A sense of pride swelled in my chest when I saw the pasta come together, glistening and fresh.

The girlfriends, Mia, Cleo, and I, got swept into the chaos of baking Rio’s cake. Flour dusted the counters, and laughter bounced off the walls as we shared stories and blended ingredients.

Glowing with pride as a new mother, Mia offered her tips while holding her baby close. I couldn’t help but smile at how easy it was to slip into their rhythm.

We kneaded dough, whisked eggs, and licked frosting off spoons like we’d been friends forever.

It was light and fun in a way I’d never experienced before, surrounded by love, warmth, and the effortless closeness of people who cared for one another. For the first time in my life, I belonged.

Nevertheless, it was also overwhelming. I had never been part of anything like this—never enjoyed the comfort of so many people who seemed to want me around.

For so long, I’d missed the affection and constant noise of family—no cozy meals surrounding a table filled with jokes and memories of a shared past.

The overwhelming substance of it, the sheer beauty of it all, threatened to swallow me whole.

When I thought it might, Rio caught my eye.

He must have seen the turmoil building inside me because, without a word, he took my hand.

Pulling me away from the clatter and chatter, he led me down one of the villa’s quiet corridors.

We found a small corner with soft light, and the sound of the ocean echoed faintly through the open windows.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, his voice deep and concerned as he cupped my face.

I let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch.

‘I’m not used to this, Rio,’ I admitted in a whisper. ‘All this love, all these people. It’s beautiful, but it’s a lot.’

His eyes softened as he pressed his forehead against mine. ‘You’re part of this now, leonessa . This is your family, too.’

He kissed me on my temple, reassuring me. ‘If it ever gets too much, I’ll always be here to pull you away, OK? You’re not alone.’

I nodded, the tightness in my chest loosening at his words. He held me for a few moments longer, letting the peace between us settle my racing thoughts before we returned to the kitchen. This time, I felt lighter and able to breathe again.

Once the food was ready, we carried it all outside, the sun’s warmth embracing us as we set the table under the vine-covered pergola.

Plates of grilled meats—steaks, sausages, and chicken piled tall, and bowls of steaming pasta dressed in rich, aromatic sauces passed about. The aroma alone made my stomach rumble with anticipation.

Wine bottles were uncorked, and the deep ruby liquid poured generously into glasses that sparkled in the afternoon light.

Gio cooed and babbled from his high chair, his legs kicking, tiny hands waving about as if he sensed the joy surrounding us. Mia fed her little one with one hand, laughing at something Cleo said.

There was abundant life here—so much laughter and love—and it wrapped around me like a blanket.

We all gathered along the long wooden table, sitting beneath the shade of the vine tree. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling our skin in golden patches.

The atmosphere was alive with clinking glasses, the occasional burst of chuckles, and the gentle hum of conversation.

Mauri sat at one head, his cat, Lupo, curling at his feet. Lorenzo sat at the other. While Mrs. Venetio poured limoncello shots for everyone, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she toasted Rio’s birthday.

‘Cin cin!’ she cheered, and we all followed suit, the shot flutes chiming together as we downed the sweet, sharp liquid in one go. It burned in the best way, warming me from the inside out.

I took it all in—the feel of the sun on my skin, the flavors of the food, the sound of birds chirping in the distance, and the faint crash of waves from the nearby shore. It was as if the world had slowed down, and in this moment, all was well.

No tension, no fear, just the simple pleasure of being surrounded by people who welcomed me wholeheartedly into their lives.

Rio caught my eye from across the room, a soft smile playing on his lips as he raised his glass to me. My heart swelled with love for him—this man who had given me something I didn’t even know I had been missing.

Family. Joy. Home.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun began to dip toward the horizon, we lingered, plates empty but hearts full.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the day’s warmth seep into my bones, and for the first time in a long time, I relaxed, so at peace.

Under the vines and fading sunlight, I sensed I’d unearthed precious treasure that would stay with me forever.

When the ocean breeze became too cool, we retreated into the villa’s living room, where the evening unfolded in a blur of joy.

The cake was a success. It was moist, sweet, and adorned with fresh berries, which the whole family enthusiastically dug into.

I helped my man blow out his candles and enjoyed a long, swooning kiss as he swept me into his arms.

Surprisingly, I found myself laughing more than I had in years.

I danced with Cleo and Mia as Rio’s fratello teased and twirled us around the room. The music flowed, my nerves faded, and soon, I was lost in the moment.

I started drawing caricatures of everyone on napkins between glasses of wine and bites of cake. Before I realized it, I had a pile of exaggerated, silly versions of Rio’s brothers, Mauri with his cat and even Gianni.

Each one drew howls of glee, and I sensed their affection for me growing with every line I sketched. It was a strange and wonderful sentiment—this acceptance.

As night grew late and we huddled together on the terrace, the ocean stretching out in front of us, I noticed a monumental shift.

I wasn’t just a guest anymore.

The Calibreses—Rio’s family—opened their arms to me. They appreciated me for who I was, how I loved Rio and the happiness I brought into his life.

I glanced at my eyes on me with that deep, steady love reflected in his pale baby blues. Emotion bloomed inside me. A scorched, heated ardor so sharp and cutting, I gasped.

He gave me a lazy, sensual smile, and I held his gaze, which sustained the promise of passion later on.

Eventually I pulled away, slicing eyes to Cleo by my side as she and I chatted about gardening, a mutual hobby.

The night air was cool against my skin, but I remained wrapped in the heat of affection, friendship, and family.

The essence of what I’d always dreamed of.

As the Calibrese famiglia all sat laughing, singing, and sharing stories beneath the starlit sky, I was certain, without a doubt, I was the luckiest woman in the world for being part of sheer, raw beauty.