Three months after the Volkov situation ended, life settled into something resembling normal.
I was eight and a half months pregnant, enormous and uncomfortable, waddling around the mansion like a beached whale.
Tony had graduated high school and was preparing for Pratt in the fall. Rosa and Alessandro were firmly settled into their roles as co-leaders of New York and Philadelphia operations.
Everything was peaceful.
Too peaceful.
"You're waiting for the other shoe to drop," Dante observed one evening, finding me on the terrace despite Dr. Bennett's orders to rest.
"There's always another shoe. In our world, there's always something."
"Maybe not this time. Maybe we get a break. Get to enjoy this." He rested his hand on my belly. "Get to welcome our daughter without a crisis."
"From your lips to God's ears."
