“What?” she asks.
“It’s your father. He sent that lowlife to take me out. The guy gave Emmanuel your father’s name,” I admit. Once again, waiting for her reaction. Waiting for her to deny that her father would do it.
“Okay, well, you need to kill him then, Carlo. Because if he wants you dead, he’s not going to stop until you are,” she says.
I blink. Did she really just tell me to kill her father? That easily? I knew they had a strained relationship. He’s always kept a tight leash on her, but for her to just tell me to off the guy like that, that’s more than a little strained.
“You want me to kill your father? He’s your only parent, Antonia.”
“What other option do we have? If it’s a choice between you and him, I’m choosing you,” she says. “And I know him. He won’t stop at one failed attempt.”
She’s right. He won’t. But I’m stuck on theher choosing mepart. “Whatever happens, we will get through this together.” I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her up against me. “I love you.”
“I love you,” she replies. “But don’t ever come to class with me again.”
Instead of agreeing, I kiss her. “You want to see our new home?”
“Yes,” she says. “But wait… Why didn’t you bring Jazzy? Have you shown her already?”
“I wanted to show you first, because if you don’t like it, we can find another one,” I say.
“Okay, but I don’t need another house. This is… a lot of house,” she says, looking up at the estate again.
“Well, we can fill it with all those babies we’re going to have.” I lead her up the stairs to the front door.
“Yeah, sure.” Antonia laughs.
I open the door, bend at the waist, and throw her over a shoulder.
“Shit, what are you doing?” Antonia squeals.
“Carrying you over the threshold. It’s tradition. You know, like a wife taking her husband’s name.” My palm lands on her ass.
Once we’re inside the foyer, I lower Antonia to her feet, keeping hold of her until she has her balance.
She spins around, staring up at the decorative ceiling above us. “Oh my god, this is beautiful.”
“It really is.” I keep my eyes on my wife. I still can’t believe she’s mine most days.
We make our way through the rest of the interior, going from room to room. Antonia seems excited.
“You want to hire a designer? Or do it yourself?” I ask her.
“Ourselves? If I’m furnishing this place, you’re helping,” she says.
“Let’s hire someone,” I suggest. The thought of going shopping to furnish a house this big seems like pure hell.
“Okay, but can we do our bedroom together? And Jazzy’s with her? I think she’d like choosing her own things.”
The fact that she is thinking about my daughter means a lot. I wasn’t too sure how well Antonia would take to finding out I had a kid. But I’m not surprised. This woman has always had a good heart.
“Deal.” I smile.
Antonia smiles back. “You did real good picking this house, Carlo.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bianchi. I think we should make it official.” I tug her up against my chest, my fist wrapping around her hair as I tilt her head upwards.
“Yeah? How do you suggest we do that?” she asks.
