Chapter 49

In the two weeks after Loretta was born, Lorenzo barely touched a single piece of family business. He shoved every meeting off onto Marco and Luca, and spent most of each day in the nursery, either pacing softly by the window with Loretta in his arms or sitting in that carved wooden chair, watching her sleep. Sometimes I'd lean in the doorway and watch him do it. A man who could once make an entire street go cold down the spine the moment he stepped toward a window was now gently teasing a baby's tiny foot with one finger, humming under his breath some melody he had probably never sung to anyone.