Dinner on Friday

° EPILOGUE °

** Carla **

As far as meriendas went, this one was going to be perfect. Well, almost perfect. My Spanish was still horrible, but I had Dante, and for now, that was enough.

I was still getting used to how massive the clan house was, and with my partial paralysis, affecting my left leg mainly, moving around was sometimes challenging. I limped across the spacious living room on my crutches, carefully dodging the cluster of toys that my four-year-old son, Lucas Eduardo Caneos, had strewn across the floor like he was setting up a battlefield.

His younger brother, Mateo Dubois Caneos, gurgled happily from his bouncer, oblivious to the chaos around him. My heart swelled at the sight of my boys. They were everything to me.

"Lucas, you've got to pick these up before the guests arrive," I said, grabbing his favorite toy car and placing it on the low shelf.

"But, mamá, I was building a race track!" he protested, his big brown eyes pleading.

I laughed and ruffled his black hair. "We can rebuild it later, mi amor. For now, help me out, okay?"

He sighed dramatically but started gathering his toys, placing them in the bin with exaggerated care. Just like his father. I smiled to myself, glancing down at my outfit.

I had chosen a tailored black jumpsuit with a plunging neckline that hinted at the power I wielded rather than flaunting it. It was sleeveless, allowing the toned muscles in my arms to show, a reminder of how far I'd come from the days when I couldn't walk at all. My gold belt cinched at my waist, accentuating my curves. The gold cuffs on my wrists gleamed in the light, matching the small, intricate gold hoop earrings I wore. And then, of course, there were the boots-black leather with a chunky heel, giving me a little extra height and a lot of extra confidence. The crutches didn't bother me much anymore; they were just another accessory to the power I exuded.

I looked like a woman in charge, but that didn't mean I couldn't worry about how things were running behind the scenes. Especially since I was about to host a massive merienda with half the clan, some friends, and even Andreas, the old chef who had cooked for Dante's family when he was growing up. His paella was to die for, and I couldn't wait to savor it. But first, I needed Dante to get home. He'd run into trouble earlier, and I didn't want any drama ruining our perfect afternoon.

I grabbed my phone from the counter and dialed him, holding the crutch under one arm as I listened to it ring. He picked up on the third ring.

"Carla," Dante's voice sounded strained, and I could hear the murmurs of the men in the background. They were still in the thick of it, it seemed.

"Everything okay?" I asked, keeping my voice calm. "You're cutting it close, babe. Guests will be arriving in forty minutes, and my Spanish is still atrocious."

He chuckled, a sound that eased my tension for a moment. "We ran into some trouble, but it's under control. I'll be there soon. Andreas won't let you down."

"I'm not worried about Andreas," I said, my tone serious now. "What's going on?"

There was a brief pause before he replied. "Some issues with the new guys. They weren't handling the Mx drop right."

I rolled my eyes, more out of habit than anything. "You need to be more direct with them, Dante. Tell them there's a way to do business, and they need to follow it or get the hell out. Period. You don't have time to babysit."

There was a low rumble of approval in his voice. "You're right, as always. I'll handle it and be home in time to help you play hostess, okay?"

I exhaled, feeling a little better. "Okay. Just make sure you get home. Lucas has been asking for you, and if I have to explain the same word in Spanish to Andreas one more time, I might scream."