Chapter 28: Nonna

POV: EVE

Eve woke to an empty bed and the sound of voices drifting from somewhere in the penthouse. ℴ

She sat up slowly, her body still tender from the weekend’s activities, and checked the time. Nine AM. She’d slept for almost fifteen hours straight.

The bedroom door was cracked open, and she could hear movement. Footsteps. Low conversation in Italian.

Italian?

Dimitri spoke Italian when he was on business calls, but this sounded different. Softer. Almost... domestic.

Curious, she grabbed one of his shirts from the closet, pulled it on over her naked body, and padded barefoot toward the sound.

The voices were coming from the kitchen.

She stopped in the doorway, frozen by the scene in front of her.

The kitchen was full of people.

Two young women in simple black dresses stood with their hands clasped in front of them, listening intently to an older woman who was clearly in charge. The older woman was maybe seventy, small and round with silver hair pulled back in a neat bun. She wore a black dress similar to the younger women, but hers had an air of authority that made it clear she wasn’t just staff.

She was family.

She stood in front of the two maids, gesturing with her hands as she gave instructions in rapid Italian. Her voice was firm but kind, the voice of someone who’d spent a lifetime managing households and people.

Then Dimitri walked past Eve without noticing her, moving straight to the older woman.

He kissed the top of her head in greeting, and the gesture was so tender, so natural, that Eve’s chest tightened.

She’d never seen him like this. Soft. Almost... boyish.

The older woman looked up at him with eyes full of warmth and affection, then said something in Italian that made him smile.

A real smile. Not the wicked one he gave Eve. Not the cold one he gave his enemies. A genuine, happy smile.

Then the woman’s eyes shifted to Eve, still standing frozen in the doorway.

She looked back at Dimitri, raised an eyebrow.

He nodded once.

The older woman’s face transformed. Her eyes lit up, her smile widened, and she looked at Eve with something that looked almost like... relief?

She said something in Italian. A word Eve didn’t recognize. Musical. Welcoming.

Eve just stood there, not knowing how to respond.

The older woman’s expression softened with understanding, and she switched to English. Her accent was thick but her words were clear.

"Come, dear," she said, her voice warm like honey. "Is there anything you need?"

Eve glanced at Dimitri, who was watching the interaction with an expression she couldn’t read.

"I... I was just looking for coffee," Eve managed.

"Coffee! Of course, of course." The older woman clapped her hands together, then turned to the two maids and said something in Italian. They immediately scattered, one heading for the coffee maker, the other for the refrigerator.

The older woman moved toward Eve with surprising speed for someone her age, her hands reaching out to take Eve’s.

"I am Sophia," she said, squeezing Eve’s hands gently. "But everyone calls me Nonna. You must be Eve."

"I... yes. I’m Eve."

"Beautiful," Nonna said, looking her up and down with the practiced eye of someone who’d seen many women come through this penthouse and could tell immediately that Eve was different. "Molto bella. And wearing his shirt. Good. This is good."

Eve felt her face heat. "I’m sorry, I should have...."

"No, no apologies. This is your home now too, yes? You wear what you like." Nonna patted her hands, then released them and moved back toward the kitchen island. "Come. Sit. You need breakfast. You are too thin."

"Nonna," Dimitri said with exasperation in his voice, but there was affection there too. "She’s not too thin."

"All women are too thin these days," Nonna said dismissively, waving her hand. "No one eats anymore. Just coffee and salad. Bah. Come, Eve. Sit. I make you proper breakfast."

Eve glanced at Dimitri again, looking for guidance. He just smiled and nodded toward the barstool at the island.

She sat.

One of the maids placed a cup of coffee in front of her....black, two sugars, exactly how she liked it without Eve having to ask.

Nonna was already moving around the kitchen with practiced efficiency, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator, heating a pan on the stove.

"Nonna has been with my family since I was born," Dimitri said, moving to stand beside Eve. His hand came to rest on her lower back, possessive even in this domestic moment. "She raised me after my mother died. She’s the closest thing to a mother I have."

Nonna made a sound that might have been agreement or dismissal, but she didn’t turn from the stove.

"She doesn’t usually come to the penthouse," Dimitri continued. "She has her own home in the city. But I called her last night. Told her I wanted her to meet you."

Eve’s heart did something complicated in her chest. "You wanted her to meet me?"

"Yes." His hand squeezed her hip. "She’s important to me. And you’re important to me. So it was time."

Nonna turned from the stove, holding a spatula, and looked at Dimitri with eyes that were suddenly sharp despite their age.

She said something in Italian. A question, by the tone.

Dimitri responded in Italian, and whatever he said made Nonna’s expression soften.

She nodded, satisfied, and turned back to her cooking.

"What did she ask?" Eve whispered.

"If you were just another woman or something more," Dimitri said quietly, his lips close to her ear. "I told her you were mine. Forever mine. And she said it was about time."

Before Eve could process that, Nonna was placing a plate in front of her.

Eggs. Perfectly scrambled. Fresh bread, still warm. Sliced tomatoes with mozzarella and basil. Prosciutto. Fruit.

It was more food than Eve usually ate in an entire day.

"Eat," Nonna commanded, pointing at the plate. "All of it. You need strength."

"Nonna, I can’t possibly...."

"You can. You will. Dimitri, you too. Sit. Eat."

Dimitri obeyed immediately, sliding onto the barstool next to Eve like he was twelve years old again and Nonna was the only authority he recognized.