Six Months later
The Los Angeles sky was painted gold as the sun dipped low, turning the wedding venue into something out of a dream. White roses lined the aisle, their sweet scent mixing with the warm breeze. Valentina "Tina" Rossi stood there, her heart thumping like a drum, staring at Vincenzo "Enzo" DeSantis. He looked sharp as hell in his black suit, that cocky grin of his making her knees weak.
"You ready to lock this down, Mrs. DeSantis?" he said, voice low and teasing.
Tina smirked, tugging at her veil. "Only if you don't trip over my dress on the dance floor. I've seen your moves—they're a liability."
Enzo laughed, a deep rumble that made her stomach flip. "I'll manage. You just say 'I do.'"
The officiant started talking, and the crowd—family, friends, and a few faces Tina didn't know—went quiet. Her best friend Ginny was already sniffling in the front row, and old Mr. Jenkins from the diner showed up in a tie that looked like it'd been through a war. It was everything Tina had imagined. Well, almost. There were those guys in slick suits lingering near the back, eyes darting like they were sizing up the place. Enzo's work buddies, probably, she figured, shrugging it off.
The vows were quick, the "I do's" even quicker. When Enzo kissed her, the crowd whooped and hollered, and Tina felt like she could float away. She'd never been this damn happy.
The reception was a blast. String lights twinkled overhead, and the band played something upbeat. Enzo twirled Tina across the dance floor, stepping on her dress not once, but twice. "Told you!" she cackled, smacking his chest. "You're a menace."
"Lucky I'm your menace now," he shot back, pulling her in tight.
She grinned, resting her cheek against his shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught one of those suited guys whispering to Enzo's cousin, both of them looking too serious for a party. It nagged at her for a second, but the music and the buzz of champagne drowned it out.
A few months later, they were sprawled on the couch in their cramped apartment, Tina flipping through a home decor magazine. Enzo had his arm around her, sipping a beer. "We need a real place," he said. "A house. Somewhere to raise a family. You see one you like, you tell me, alright?"
Tina's head snapped up, eyes wide. "Wait, for real? I get to pick?"
He kissed her temple, his lips warm. "Anything you want, babe."
She didn't waste time. A week later, she was cruising through a quiet neighborhood when she saw it—a two-story house with white shutters, a big green yard, and a porch swing swaying in the breeze. It was perfect. She could see it all: kids running around, Enzo flipping burgers out back, her sipping coffee on that swing. Her heart did a little dance.
She called Enzo that afternoon, practically bouncing. "I found it. Our house. It's fucking amazing."
"Send me the address," he said, voice steady but warm. "I'll take care of it."
The next day, Enzo rolled up to the house in his blacked-out car, the engine purring as he parked. The owner, some guy named Paul, was out front, watering the lawn in a faded polo shirt. He squinted as Enzo stepped out, all polished shoes and quiet confidence.
"Hey there," Enzo called, flashing a smile that was all charm. "Nice spot you've got."
Paul turned off the hose, wiping his hands. "Uh, thanks. You need something?"
"Just here to talk about the house," Enzo said, hands in his pockets. "I'd like to buy it."
Paul frowned, scratching his neck. "It's not for sale, man."
Enzo's smile didn't falter, but his eyes got a little sharper. "Come on, Paul. Everything's got a price."
"Look, I don't know you—"
"Vincenzo DeSantis." Enzo let the name drop like a stone, watching Paul's face twitch. "Heard of me?"
Paul's Adam's apple bobbed. "I… yeah. Maybe. But I'm not looking to sell."
Enzo stepped closer, pulling an envelope from his jacket—thick, heavy with cash. "Here's the thing. My wife loves this place. Makes her happy. And when she's happy, I'm happy." He held out the envelope. "This is a good deal. More than it's worth."
Paul stared at it, hands fidgeting. "I don't—"
"Take the money," Enzo cut in, voice still smooth but edged with steel. "Or we can make this harder than it needs to be. Up to you."
Paul's eyes darted to the house, then back to Enzo. He took the envelope, fingers shaking, and peeked inside. His breath hitched at the stack of bills. "Okay," he mumbled. "Okay, fine."
Enzo clapped him on the back, grin back in full force. "Good choice. My guy'll handle the paperwork."
As Paul scurried inside, Enzo glanced over at Tina, waiting in the car with that big, oblivious smile. He gave her a thumbs-up, and she clapped her hands like a kid on Christmas. Anything for her, he thought, chest tightening.
Nine months later, Tina was in a hospital bed, sweat dripping down her face, cursing Enzo's name. "You did this to me, you bastard!" she groaned, squeezing his hand so hard he winced.
"I know, I'm the worst," he said, brushing her hair back. "You're almost there, babe. You're a fucking rockstar."
One last push, and the room filled with a baby's cry. Tina flopped back, panting and laughing, tears streaking her cheeks. The nurse swaddled the little bundle and handed her over. Tina's breath caught as she looked at her daughter—tiny, perfect, with Enzo's dark eyes.
"Hey, Mia," she whispered, voice cracking. "I'm your mom."
Enzo leaned in, his big, calloused hand dwarfing Mia's as he touched her cheek. "She's beautiful," he said, voice soft as hell. "Just like her mama."
Tina looked up at him, grinning through the exhaustion. "We're a family now, huh?"
"Yeah," he said, eyes locked on Mia. "Our little crew."
The nurse stepped out, leaving them in this quiet, perfect bubble. Enzo shifted, cradling Mia like she was made of glass. "Gonna give you the world, kid," he murmured, so low Tina barely caught it.
She chuckled, wiping her eyes. "Better start with diapers, tough guy."
He smirked. "Deal."
Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it, jaw tightening for a split second before he hit ignore. Tina raised an eyebrow. "Who's that?"
Enzo shrugged, slipping the phone away. "Just business. Nothing big."
She nodded, too wiped out to dig deeper. But as she looked back at Mia, cradling her close, a little knot twisted in her gut. That "just business" line was starting to sound familiar—too familiar. The calls always came at weird times, and he always brushed them off with that same easy smile.
For now, though, she let it go. Mia's tiny yawn was all that mattered.