Page 98 of Entangled

Not of her.

Not of her child.

Not of Gian’s choices.

Just the way Frederic’s cold gaze passed over her, and darted back to the baby boy in Celeste’s arms, Cara knew all of those things were true.

“He does take after Cara quite a bit, too,” Gian said, losing the happier tone from earlier. He turned to Cara, extending an arm and opening his hand wide for her to step forward and take. She did, still unsure and unsettled in her heart. “Remember what I said about today, Dad.”

“I came, didn’t I?” Frederic asked.

“Sì, but remember, too. This is not your home. Your rules do not apply here. Mine do. Hers do.”

Dom cleared his throat, and quickly diverted the attention back to the baby. While it helped a bit, Cara still couldn’t shake the coldness she had found waiting for her in Frederic’s gaze, or how he all but dismissed her presence, even when he was standing directly beside her.

It was difficult.

A shameful feeling burned in her throat.

She couldn’t expect anything different.

Cara only relaxed when Gian’s lips pressed to her temple, unbothered by the people watching them. His lips moved with his words, whispering over her skin with assurance and love.

“You are never the lesser, not in your own home, mia cara bella. Demand respect in your space because it is yours, and do not let someone take it from you. You are the queen, and this is your castle. This is your home, and those who are lucky enough to be allowed inside should understand what that means. Smile. Always smile here.”

He was right.

He always was.

It seemed like Cara had blinked—just once—and Marcus was turning one month old. Everyone had told her again and again that she needed to enjoy the time she had with her baby while he was a newborn, because before she knew it, he wouldn’t be so tiny and new. Sure, Marcus was still a newborn, but just the fact that the first month had passed them by so quickly, in a haze of long nights, dirty diapers and so much more, was surreal.

And sweet.

The ding of the elevator brought Cara from her thoughts. She lifted her stare from her sleeping son in her arms, just in time to see Tommas enter through the penthouse’s elevator with a wide smile and already opened arms.

“Cara.”

“Tommy,” Cara replied in kind, unable to stop her growing smile.

“Come here.”

Before she knew what happened, her brother had wrapped her up in a tight hug that damn near squeezed the life out of her. She wasn’t about to complain, though. It had been too long since she last seen her brother, though they did try to talk at least once a week.

“My God, look at this bambino,” Tommas said, stepping back to give Marcus a good one-over. “He’s going to be a heartbreaker.”

Cara swatted her brother on his arm, laughing. “Don’t start with that yet. He’s just a baby.”

“Prepare for it, Cara. Prepare.”

She rolled her eyes, and turned to walk them in further. “Do you want a coffee? How was your flight?”

“Coffee would be great. And it was shit, but it always is when I’m not flying privately.”

“How’s Abriella?” Cara asked.

“Wonderful and beautiful,” Tommas said of his wife. “Next time, she’ll come, too. It’s just not the right time with the little one.”

Tommas, too, was a new parent. His son, Tommaso, was only a couple of months older than Marcus. Cara had seen picture after picture of her one and only nephew, as Tommas was like every proud father with a camera in his hands, but she had yet to meet the baby.