Page 63 of Married to the Ruthless Mafia Heir

I pulled her soft body into my arms, resting my chin on top of her head. "I don't know exactly when I fell in love with you. Maybe it was when you got humiliated at the wedding but didn't cry. Maybe when you said you wanted to give me a child. Maybe that night when you took care of me after I was hurt..."

I held her tighter. "When I saw you with Luca, I went insane with jealousy. I've never wanted to possess someone like that before. To ease my pain, I did something stupid—bringing Valentina back to the manor."

"But please believe me." I almost begged her. "I love you. You'll always be my wife."

Elena's head rested against my shoulder, her hands hanging at her sides, slightly clenched.

"Elena, who is he?"

Maggie appeared from around the street corner, carrying an insulated thermos. She looked surprised to see me. Elena immediately pushed away from me and stood up, flustered.

"He's..." Elena didn't know how to introduce me. She struggled for a long time without saying anything.

I recognized the middle-aged woman as Elena's mother from the photos in the file Marco had given me.

I stepped forward and extended my hand. "Hello, I'm Dante Moretti, Elena's husband."

Maggie's eyes went wide. She looked at me, then at Elena, reading the confirmation in her daughter's expression. Mrs. Clark didn't give me a warm welcome.

She immediately stepped between me and Elena, gripping the thermos like she wanted to smash it into my face.

I sensed her hostility. Elena must have told her everything. But I couldn't push back hard. I called out, "Mrs. Clark."

Maggie froze, her mouth falling open. She probably never expected this well-dressed man to humble himself like this.

Maggie pressed her lips together. She handed the thermos to Elena and pulled her aside. The two spoke in low voices. I couldn't hear what they said, but when Maggie looked back at me, she didn't seem as guarded.

Elena held Maggie's hand and talked to her. Maggie looked less tense.

When Maggie came back, she brought Elena into the shop and warned me, "I won't let you take my daughter away, no matter how powerful you are in New York. I'll protect my child. We're having dinner now. You need to leave."

She was kicking me out.

Inside was a clean little table. Elena opened the thermos—Maggie had made corn tortillas and stewed beans. She picked up a fork, then turned to look at me.

I didn't want to leave. God knows how much I wanted to stay by her side.

"I'll paint your walls." I walked over, rolled up my sleeves to my elbows, and picked up the paint bucket from the corner.

Elena refused. "Dante, I don't need your help. Please leave. I need time alone to think."

But I pretended not to hear.

I stepped onto the stool, dipped into the paint, and continued where she'd left off that afternoon. I could feel Elena's gaze on my back. I turned to look at her. "Eat properly. You're carrying our child. Leave this to me. I'll help you get this shop fixed up."

After Maggie and Elena finished eating, Elena sent Maggie home to rest. Maggie held her back and glanced at me. "What about you? Is he taking you back to New York?"

"No, Mom," Elena reassured her softly. "Go on home."

Maggie left reluctantly. Elena watched her go, then walked over to me. "Have you eaten dinner?"

My hand with the paintbrush paused. "No. I was in too much of a hurry today. Didn't have time or appetite. You can't imagine how long I've been looking for you."

Elena sighed. "Dante, I'm not worth all this."

I didn't answer that question. I knew that no matter what I said right now, Elena wouldn't believe me, because her mind was still full of the ways I'd hurt her in the past.

I remembered what Luca had said—if you love someone, you can't force them. You let them choose.