Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 45

Chapter 45

ADRIAN

Valentina was bent over the pool table. The soft lamplight traced the curve of her neck and the loose waves of her hair as she lined up her shot. Her tongue peeked out between her lips in concentration, and I caught myself smiling despite trying not to. She looked so determined, and yet so delicate, that I couldn’t resist stepping in behind her, letting my chest brush against her back as I adjusted her aim.

“Like this,” I murmured, guiding her hand.

–

She glanced up at me through her lashes, and for a moment, everything else the house, the quiet, the endless responsibility waiting beyond that room – disappeared. The cue hit the ball cleanly. The eight ball rolled across the table, clacking once before dropping neatly into the pocket.

Valentina squealed in triumph and spun around, eyes bright with glee. “We did it!” she said, grinning so hard I could see the faint dimple in her cheek. Before I could respond, she tugged me down by my shirt and pressed a quick, eager kiss to my lips.

It was such a small thing, but damn, if it didn’t feel like sunlight breaking through clouds I’d been living under for too long.

Then, the spell broke.

Sofia’s cry burst through the baby monitor, high and piercing through the illusion of peace we had created. I straightened instinctively.

Valentina’s laughter faded, and she reached for the monitor. “She’s awake,” she said softly.

I only nodded. “Let’s go.”

We made our way upstairs, the echo of our footsteps muffled by the carpeted stairs. The closer we got to Sofia’s room, the louder the cries became.

Valentina didn’t hesitate. She pushed open the door, and the warm glow of the night–light spilled over her face. I lingered in the doorway, watching her move. She leaned over the crib and scooped Sofia up with practiced ease, cradling her to her chest. I’d done that same motion a hundred times, and yet the sight of her doing it so naturally and so gently, rooted me to the spot.

Sofia’s cries softened almost instantly. Her little hands clutched at Valentina’s nightgown as she blinked up at her new mother with wide, glassy eyes.

“Shh…” Valentina whispered. Her voice was barely more than breath. “It’s all right, piccolina. You’re okay.”

For a moment, I waited for the usual outburst… that inevitable wail that always came after the first calm. But it didn’t happen. Sofia only let out a tiny hiccup before melting into Valentina’s arms.

My throat tightened.

Valentina smiled down at her, all warmth and patience. “You’re the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen,” she murmured, kissing one soft cheek and then the other. “With the roundest, most perfect chubby cheeks in the world.”

Something inside me clenched at the sight of how effortlessly she fit into this picture, how wrong I’d been to doubt her.

ap and caught a strand of Valentina’s hair, tugging hard enough to make her flinch. Valentina only laughed he baby’s hand, sending her bangs fluttering. Sofia blinked, startled, then giggled.

1/3

The sound hit me like a punch. Sofia giggled.

That small, innocent laugh, the first one I’d heard from her in weeks, filled the room like music.

Valentina’s eyes lifted to mine. She looked radiant, her expression open and unguarded, as if the world outside that nursery didn’t exist. And in that moment, I almost believed it too.

I turned abruptly, because if I stayed any longer, I might’ve said something I couldn’t take back. “I’ll get the bottle,” I said, the words rougher than I intended.

Downstairs, I tried to focus on the task of measuring formula, and heating water, but the image of Valentina with my daughter stayed burned behind my eyes. I’d seen tenderness before, but not like that. Not genuine, not without expectation. Especially when she didn’t even have to.

She followed me quietly into the kitchen, still rocking Sofia against her shoulder. I could feel her gaze on me, heavy but patient, the way someone looks when they want to ask a hundred questions but won’t.

When the bottle was ready, I turned to her. “Here,” I said in a much lower voice.

She smiled faintly. “Why don’t you feed her while I hold her?”

I met her eyes – those deep brown eyes that had a way of seeing through every wall I’d built – and for a moment, I didn’t move. I just looked. She stood there barefoot, with Sofia nestled against her, looking like she belonged in this house far more than I ever had.

She leaned her shoulder against the counter, still rocking my daughter gently in her arms. The baby still didn’t cry. She kept her face pressed against the soft fabric of Valentina’s blouse. It was strange. Sofia always calmed faster in my hold, but this time, she seemed perfectly content where she was.

Valentina glanced at me. “Do you want to feed her?”

I shook my head, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Sofia’s tiny chest. “She looks peaceful where she is.”

Something softened in Valentina’s face. “She really is a sweet baby,” she murmured, smiling down at the little bundle. Her voice was hushed, warm and so full of something I hadn’t heard in this house for a long time.

The moment stretched between us, quiet and still, until the sudden crash of something heavy from the upper level shattered it.

Valentina flinched. “What was that?”

The sound echoed faintly. It was a dull thud followed by the faint creak of movement. My stomach turned to stone. Every nerve in my body went taut.

I forced myself to look calm, to keep my expression flat. “It’s probably just one of the windows. The wind’s been bad lately.”

Valentina frowned, glancing up at the ceiling. “That didn’t sound like a window.”

I managed a small shrug, slipping the mask I’d perfected years ago back into place. “I’ll go see what it was.”

She hesitated, clearly wanting to follow, but I was already turning toward the stairs. “Stay with Solas ud over my

shoulder. “It’s fine.”

I climbed the staircase slowly, each step heavier than the last. The air grew colder as I reached the landing, the silence pressing in around me. My pulse beat wildly in my throat.

That sound hadn’t been a window. I knew exactly what it was.

2/3

1 exhaled through my nose, forcing the tension out of my shoulders, and glanced down toward the kitchen where the sound of Valentina’s coos floated faintly through the halls.

She was getting too comfortable here. Too curious.

I’d have to be more careful. Much more careful.