Nico and Angel were on the roof with Stella when the helicopter touched down, Lily waving wildly while they waited for Farrell to open the door. Jenna couldn’t help smiling as she watched them.

Nico’s dark eyes and hair stood in contrast to Angel’s striking blonde beauty, but it was obvious even at a glance they were right where they belonged.

In a strange twist of fate, Jenna was working for Nico as an assistant at MediaComm when he had kidnapped Angel. Jenna hadn’t known about it at the time, but later she had been witness to the chaos that reverberated through the Syndicate when Nico fell in love with his enemy’s daughter.

Nico had been different before that: hard and cold, determined to exact revenge for the death of his parents. He’d been fair and cordial to Jenna, but there had been no life behind his eyes until Angel Rossi came into the picture.

And Angel’s love for Nico had also come at a cost to her.

Her brother had been kidnapped, her father assassinated — by Nico — after he’d pointed a gun at Angel during a raid in London. She’d been pregnant during the FBI raid that had resulted in Raneiro’s initial arrest by the FBI and had almost lost Stella, had retreated to Bali with Nico for nearly two years before returning to retake the Syndicate.

They’d been married in Bali, and Angel had given birth near the water with no one present but Nico and an old Balinese woman.

It had been a long hard road, but Jenna wouldn’t know it looking at them now. The air around them was perpetually charged with Nico’s calm resolve, Angel’s seemingly endless reservoir of quiet strength.

Farrell opened the door and lifted Lily out of the helicopter, handing her to Leo. He jogged toward the Vitale’s with Lily in his arms while Farrell helped Jenna out of the helicopter.

She could have gotten out by herself, but Farrell still treated her like glass. She’d fought it in the beginning, worrying that he thought she was weak or incapable of taking care of herself, but their time on the run in Europe had proven to her that that wasn’t the case.

He simply liked to spoil her, and she had to admit she’d gotten used to it. Besides, who was she to ruin his fun?

Leo set Lily down next to Stella and the two girls embraced tightly.

Angel looked at Leo and shouted over the helicopter’s rotors, still slowly turning.

“You’re not staying?”

“Diana’s waiting,” he said. “We’ll be back for Christmas.”

Angel nodded and leaned in to give him a hug. “Tell her hello.”

Leo nodded and waved to the rest of them before springing toward the helicopter. A minute later, the machine rose into the air.

When it finally grew quiet enough to talk without shouting, Angel turned to Jenna and wrapped her in a hug.

“You’re here!”

“We’re here!” Jenna said, laughing.

Angel took her hand as naturally as if they were children. It was one of the things Jenna liked most about Angel — her openness and affection, her lack of self-consciousness. She was totally herself, utterly unconcerned with how her actions might appear to others.

Jenna couldn’t help wondering if it was an American thing. Her words and actions were filtered through the sieves of social propriety that were inherent in the British, her adherence to them all the more urgent given her blue-collar background, the shame of her mother’s alcoholism, their near-poverty.

She’d remade herself into someone different when she’d left for New York, had become educated and polished, had learned how to dress and speak in order to command respect.

It wasn’t that she wanted to forget where she came from; it was that she never wanted to forget. Only by remembering could she do better for Lily. That meant a good education and proper manners. It meant adherence to the conventions of a society that had the power to celebrate or shun you.

Lily would not be shunned, nor would Jenna.

Not now.

Still, sometimes it was exhausting to follow all the rules. It was one of the reasons she’d responded so immediately to Farrell, one of the reasons she relished their intimacy.

In bed with Farrell, there was no convention, no rules.

It was the way they both liked it.

She wasn’t surprised to feel a flare of heat between her legs. Her response to Farrell — to even thinking about being in bed with him — was Pavlovian.

There was no hope of controlling it.

Farrell and Nico talked softly behind Jenna and Angel as they made their way down the stairs leading from the roof to the courtyard. The girls had already run ahead, doubtless to tear apart the playroom on the main floor of the house.

Normally Jenna would be cautious about Lily’s safety. They had lived peacefully since Raneiro Donati’s death, but being Farrell Black’s daughter meant Lily — and Jenna — would forever be targets.

Farrell had aggressively addressed the problem, increasing security at all their properties, making his requirements for the guards more rigorous, letting Jenna in on it all until she felt every possible problem had been addressed.

The only thing more dangerous than the people who might come for them were the people Farrell hired to act as a fortress around them.

Jenna had long ago stopped worrying about the dark side of Farrell’s business. She’d punished him for it in the past, had abandoned him not once, but twice. It had nearly destroyed him, had nearly destroyed them both. When it was all over, she knew total surrender was the only way to make peace with it.

She’d made her deal with the devil — and he was the love of her life.

Security concerns had become a peripheral concern. She noticed the placement of guards, noticed movements in the trees around the villa in Tuscany when the guards changed shifts, had made a point to learn how to fire a weapon in case of emergency. Beyond that, she tried to focus on living.

While the new Syndicate was run under the equal partnership of Nico, Farrell, Christophe, and Luca, Nico had been Raneiro Donati’s protege and was often seen as the organization’s de facto leader.

Jenna trusted him implicitly, knew he protected Angel and Stella with the same kind of ferocity Farrell poured into the safety of Jenna and Lily.

They made their way through the courtyard at the center of the U-shaped villa. They would be safe here, surrounded by the men who had taken down Raneiro Donati and enough security to comprise a small army.

“Charlotte and Christophe will be here tomorrow,” Angel said as they climbed the grand staircase to the second floor. “And I think Luca, Isabel, and Sofia are due in the day after.”

Jenna laughed. “Are they bringing earplugs?”

Angel grinned. “I don’t know, but I’ve installed doors on the playroom, just in case.”

“Smart,” Jenna said.

Sofia was a few years older than Stella and Lily, but the three girls still managed to make a mess — and plenty of noise — together.

They turned left at the top of the stairs and continued down a long tiled hall until they came to a closed door at the end. Angel opened the door and they stepped into an expansive room with soaring ceilings and classical moldings.

“It’s quiet here at the end of the hall.” Angel crossed the room and pulled back the heavy draperies covering the terrace. Rome beckoned beyond the iron railing. “Plus, the terrace has a wonderful view of the Basilica.”

A canopied bed dominated the space, the linens a riot of silk and velvet and cotton. Jenna could almost feel them against her bare skin.

Could imagine Farrell’s body entwined with hers, the covers stripped back from the bed the way Farrell liked it.

“It’s perfect.” Jenna forced her eyes away from the bed to the famous dome in the distance. “Thank you.”

“Don’t be silly.” Angel gave her a quick hug. “It’s been ages since we’ve had any time together. I’ve been counting the days. I’ve set up a room for Lily next door, although I expect she’ll end up in Stella’s room.”

Jenna laughed. “I have a feeling you’re right.” She looked toward the hall. “Where is Farrell with the bags?”

Angel smiled. “I’m guessing the courtyard, with a stiff glass of Scotch in his hands.”

“You’re probably right,” Jenna said.

“Take advantage of it,” Angel said. “There are fresh towels in the bath and a nice big tub. I’ll give Farrell a gentle reminder to bring up your things when I go downstairs.”

It was midday. In Tuscany she would be working in the kitchen with Carmen or taking sun on the terrace, watching Lily run wild with Lessa in the fields. In London, she might be meeting with the advisory board of the charity she’d started the year before, an organization that offered grants to single parents who wanted to further their education.

But here in Rome there was no schedule, no tasks awaiting her attention.

“A bath sounds lovely,”Jenna said. “And maybe a nap.”

“I’ll send up a bottle of wine,” Angel said, squeezing her hand.

“You’re brilliant,” Jenna said.

She watched as Angel closed the door behind her, then stepped out onto the terrace.

It was cold, in spite of the sun shining from a clear blue sky. Jenna drew in the bracing air and tried to exhale her worry.

She was in Rome. It was nearly Christmas and they were in the company of dear friends. They would spend the week relaxing and laughing, making food and watching their children, basking in the life that had been hard-won for them all. She would make love to Farrell in the canopied bed and sleep late wrapped in his arms.

It would be an opportunity to center themselves around their little family — and the perfect time to tell Farrell about the baby.