CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“PUT ME DOWN!” I squealed when Dante swooped me into his arms unexpectedly after helping me out of his car on the last Saturday in October. There was a slight breeze in the air, the temperatures finally beginning to drop now that it was officially fall.
“Not a chance in hell. You only get to walk into your new house for the first time once. I need to make it something you’ll never forget.” He smiled wider as he carried me up the brick path toward the front door of what was now our home. We’d closed on it in less than a week. A benefit of paying cash, as Dante reminded me. I still had trouble wrapping my head around anyone being able to pay cash for a house in the Malibu Hills.
Immediately after we got the keys, the place was overrun with contractors, all hired by Beatrice to make it into what she envisioned. She even came to California in order to oversee the project. Now, less than a month after I told Dante I’d move to Italy with him, I was about to see the house he bought me in Malibu so I would always have roots here, although with each passing day, my ties to this place became more frayed and disjointed.
I hadn’t spoken to either of my parents since my mother’s phone call all those weeks ago. Dante didn’t want me to get mixed up in whatever my father may be involved in, and after stepping back and analyzing everything, I knew he was right. I should walk away. Part of me couldn’t help but wonder if Dante had an ulterior motive for wanting me to keep my distance from whatever this was, but when I saw the adoration in his eyes as he made love to me or shared plans for our future, I realized what that motive was… To keep me safe. To keep me alive. To keep me his. And that was the only thing that mattered.
“Every minute with you is something I’ll never forget,” I replied in earnest as the wind blew around me.
The aroma of the ocean mixed with wildflowers met me and I drew in a long breath. From this moment forward, this smell would remind me of home…of Dante’s and my first home together. Yes, both his apartment in Rome and villa in Tuscany would soon also be my home, but this was different. This was a house we picked out ourselves, that we’d both had a hand in designing, in deciding which room would best be served as the office and which would be the perfect library. Eventually, I’d leave my own mark on his other properties, but for now, I was giddy with excitement over finally seeing exactly how Beatrice was able to merge both our styles into a home I imagined we’d enjoy for years to come.
“Me, too, my beautiful Eleanor.” He placed a soft kiss on my forehead and my body fused into his even more. His hand on the knob, he met my eyes. “Ready?” He lifted a brow, a mischievous look crossing his face.
“It’s incredibly unfair that you got to see it already.”
“I know.” He lowered his lips to mine. “But I had to make sure everything was perfect for my queen.”
A subtle moan fell from my throat when he treated me to a simple, yet beautiful kiss. Our first kiss on the steps of our new home. Another first. I wanted to store all of these in a box of memories so I could look back at them and relive how I felt — the peace, the joy, the hope.
For years, I’d never had much promise for any sort of happy future. I simply got up each morning and went through the motions of what was expected of me. I studied hard. I graduated at the top of my class in high school, college, and law school. I passed the bar exam on the first try, which was a difficult feat, particularly out here in California. I went to work. I put in double the amount of hours at the law firm than necessary just to avoid going home to Brock. I never looked forward to what each day would bring, partly because I think I was scared of what my future held.
Now I hungered for that future with Dante. I had fantasized about it more times than I cared to admit. I pictured us waking up together every morning. I pictured us enjoying a delicious glass of wine as we watched the sunset. I pictured us laughing as Dante attempted to show me how to cook yet another one of his favorite dishes. I pictured us happy. I pictured us in love. I pictured us complete.
After a long pause, Dante finally pushed the door open and carried me into our new home. For the first time in my life, I actually felt like I was home.
He gingerly lowered me to my feet, his eyes glued to me while mine remained fixed on our surroundings, wanting to cry at how perfect it was. The house looked like a completely new space now that it was fully furnished, painted, and designed in a way to combine both our tastes. He liked things modern and angular, lots of grays, beiges, and whites. I preferred more non-traditional design elements, along with an occasional pop of color. Beatrice seamlessly married our two styles.
I stepped farther into the foyer, noticing that Beatrice had redesigned the winding staircase just off the entryway, removing the wood railings and replacing them with wrought iron. The hardwood flooring was replaced with a different shade, something a little bit more gray and modern, the walls updated with a fresh coat of paint. As I continued through the house, I marveled at how perfect everything was, right down to the floral arrangements used as accent pieces on the side tables and the knick-knacks set on the built-in bookshelves in the library.
The design flowed into the second level, each bedroom following the same color palette. Finally, we approached the closed door to the master bedroom, my stomach buzzing with anticipation as to how Beatrice had transformed this space. When Dante slowly opened the door, my breath caught. The bedroom was peaceful and serene. Beatrice had used softer colors, accented with a few beige tones. It felt inviting and warm.
Dante’s arms wrapped around me as I stood admiring the view from the panoramic windows. “I hope you’ll find peace here, that your nightmares will be a thing of the past,” he whispered against my temple.
We hadn’t discussed my nightmares…or, more appropriately, night terrors…since I woke screaming and told him about what I’d seen. I wanted to ask him if he’d witnessed any more episodes, but was too scared to hear the answer. I was petrified to learn I was slowly losing control over my mind, wondering what my own brain was trying to hide from me.
“Come,” he said, pulling me out of my unnerving thoughts. “Wait until you see the en-suite.” He led me toward the bathroom, my jaw hitting the floor at the complete redesign. It wasn’t in bad shape when we bought the house, so I just expected a bit of a touch up, not the entirely new space I now admired in awe. The tile counters had been replaced with one large slab of white-and-gray marble, the pattern matching that in the shower. But the focal point was the large claw-foot tub.
“Do you like?” Dante’s deep baritone cut through.
I immediately spun around, flinging my arms around his neck and kissing him. “It’s better than I could have imagined. You didn’t have to do all of this for me.”
“I told you from the very beginning… While you’re with me, you deserve nothing but the very best. And that didn’t stop simply because you’d given me your heart, your love. I promise to do my best to give you a reason to fall in love with me every single day, Eleanor.” He ran his hand down my face, tracing the line of my silhouette, as if imprinting it to memory. “You deserve nothing less.”
He gradually shortened the distance between our mouths, my knees growing weak when his lips finally touched mine. One hand tangled in my hair, the other supporting my back as he kissed me like he meant it, kissed me like he needed to in order to breathe, kissed me like it was the only thing that quieted his own demons.
A throat clearing sounded, startling me. I quickly pulled away to see Beatrice standing in the master bedroom, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “You two need to get a room,” she joked in her soft Italian accent.
“We have one,” Dante shot back, keeping his eyes trained on me. “And you’re standing in it. So, unless you want a show…” Lifting his brow, he passed Beatrice a devious grin.
She simply rolled her eyes. Apparently, having grown up alongside him had made her completely unpersuaded by his charms. “We go back to Italy tomorrow.” She stalked over to him and yanked his arm, tugging him from the room. “You can christen this place then. For now, we celebrate.”
I followed behind, giggling as small and slight Beatrice pulled tall and muscular Dante down the stairs. The second we emerged into the foyer, two excited voices exclaimed, “Zio Dante!” It was followed by two other voices shouting, “Auntie Ellie!”
A wide grin spread on Dante’s face as he rushed to his two nephews, hoisting Luca, the two-year-old, onto his shoulders as he tousled Angelo’s hair. I crouched down, giving Ashlyn and Harley each a hug and a kiss before offering a smile of welcome to Steven and Mila, who looked around in amazement. I had to constantly pinch myself, too. I couldn’t believe this house was mine, that I’d be spending my time in California here. It still seemed like a bit much, considering my only reason for wanting to spend any time here was Mila. But it warmed my heart that Dante valued my comfort so much as to go through all the trouble of giving me the house of my dreams close to my best friend.
“Mi piace la tua casa,” Angelo said to Dante in his small, five-year-old voice.
“What did he say?” Ashlyn asked.
Dante looked down at her, smiling. “He said he likes our house.”
“I like your house, too!”
“Grazie, Ashlyn.” Dante nodded at her, then looked back at Angelo. “And thank you, Angelo.”
“This house is amazing,” Mila offered. “And I haven’t even seen the upstairs yet. I’m not sure I want to. It might make me even more jealous.”
“Then you definitely don’t want to see the view from the master bedroom,” Giuseppe said, walking into the room holding a tray containing six champagne flutes and a few plastic cups filled with apple juice.
Once we all had our champagne and the kids had their juice, we raised our glasses. “Congratulazioni,” Giuseppe said.
“Congratulazioni,” Mila and Steven repeated, doing their best to mumble through the Italian word.
“Welcome to the family,” Beatrice offered.
“Grazie,” I said in response, not arguing that I wasn’t technically part of their family. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have a ring or Dante’s last name. I didn’t need those things, although Dante had joked we could go to the courthouse and have that taken care of so the name on the deed to the house would read Eleanor Luciano instead of Eleanor Crenshaw. Still, I felt closer to this group of people than I did my own mother and father. This was my family.
Mila slung her arm over my shoulders, squeezing me. “You deserve this, Ellie. I’m going to miss the hell out of you, but this is the right path for you. I know it.”
“Oh really?”
“Yup,” she responded in a very matter-of-fact voice.
“And how do you know?”
“Like everything else, it came to me in a vision.” She winked.
“You and your visions.” I playfully shoved her, then raised my champagne to my lips. “I think it’s the right path for me, too,” I added in a quiet voice.