Bella’s heart squeezed at the sight. When Scythe abruptly glanced up, she felt intrusive somehow. As if she had invaded private, long-buried thoughts that the forbidding Breed male had no intention of sharing.
Ettore held up the key that Scythe had given him earlier tonight. “Are you sure the Rover is ours?”
He gave a firm nod. “Keep it. If I have need of another vehicle, I have ample resources to get one.”
“All right.” Ettore inclined his head. “We should get moving, then. We have a lot of road ahead of us if we mean to make it back to Rome before sunrise.”
Scythe grunted, contemplative. “Through my brother, Trygg, I’m aware that the Order has more than its share of trouble these days. If you or your comrades ever have need of more hands on deck—” The sober male actually smirked now. “Or even just one hand—then I trust you’ll let me know.”
Ettore chuckled. “I will. Thank you.”
Scythe extended his good arm to him. The two males exchanged a brief left-handed shake. Then Scythe turned his fathomless gaze on Bella.
“Take care of each other.”
“We will,” she replied. And whether the intimidating Gen One wanted it or not, she rose up on her toes to kiss his beard-darkened face. “Thank you, Scythe. For everything you’ve done for us.”
He stepped back without a word or acknowledgment, yet despite his reticence, she knew in her heart that she and Ettore had made a friend. If needed, they had a lethal, lifelong ally.
Chiara and her son as well.
Bella watched as her brother’s widow collected her child from the rug where he was playing. She whispered something into Pietro’s ear, then the boy shyly stepped over to stand in front of Scythe. In his pudgy fingers was the carved animal.
“Here,” he said, offering it back to the larger male.
“You keep it,” Scythe said, his deep voice toneless. “I’ve held on to it for too long. It’s yours now.”
Chiara smiled, gathering her arm around her little boy’s shoulders. “I don’t know how to thank you for giving us shelter,” she murmured.
“No thanks is needed. It’s enough to know that you and your child weren’t harmed.”
“No one’s going to harm them anymore,” Ettore added. “When I spoke with the command center, they informed me that the explosion at the villa the other night killed all of Massioni’s lieutenants. His network is in shambles. My comrades and I are already making plans to crush his organization to the ground. No one will be coming after Bella or any of her family anymore.”
Chiara’s relief was clear in her eyes. But there was a note of hesitation there too. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “Because I’ve decided that I don’t want to go to Rome.”
Bella frowned. “What? Then where—”
“The vineyard is my home, sorella. That’s where Pietro and I belong.”
Although it made sense, the thought of leaving her family behind still put a pang of sadness in her breast. Ettore must have registered the spike in her emotions. His fingers came to rest lightly under her chin, tipping her face up to meet his.
“Do you want the same thing, love? To go home to the vineyard, instead of living with me at the command center in Rome?”
“The vineyard hasn’t been my home for a long time. Where you are, Ettore, that’s my home now.”
Because of him, her family was safe now.
Because of him, she had everything she’d ever wanted—all she needed—right here in her arms.
They said their final good-byes to Scythe, then drove his black Range Rover back to the vineyard in Potenza.
Hours later, with Chiara and Pietro settled again in their home, Ettore took Bella’s hand and walked her out under the starlight.
She saw his gaze drift to the sleek blue Pagani that had brought them to this place two nights ago. It seemed like forever since he’d stormed into her life again and whisked her away from the villain who had held her.
Now, she and Ettore had forever waiting for them in their new life together.
She couldn’t wait for it to begin.
He gestured to the sports car. “You don’t suppose Chiara has any use for that, do you?”
“Hmm. Probably not,” Bella replied with mock contemplation. “The Rover would be more practical. Not to mention it might give Scythe a reason to come around and check on them from time to time.”
Ettore grunted. “I’ve got a feeling that might happen either way.”
She smiled. “You may be right about that. Still, a sports car won’t get much use out here at the vineyard. And Pietro is still years away from truly appreciating that kind of machinery.”