They slept facing each other as if they’d whispered themselves to sleep.

They had so much Marco in them. She’d always found it bittersweet that she’d lost Marco and yet she’d been given these daily reminders of him. It wasn’t just one thing, but many…the way Gia arched an eyebrow, Liv’s tilt to her head, both girls impatience and pride. The girls might look delicate but on the inside they were tough.

Just like Marco.

Marco had fascinated her from the start. She worked at d’Angelo three weeks before she got her first glimpse of him. He was there with a circle of others and yet he seemed different. Distinct.

He might have taken over his father’s famous company, but he was a true designer in his own right and his work preoccupied him.

Payton loved watching him sketch. She found excuses to be near the salon when he directed a fitting. She listened to him as he talked, absorbing everything, wanting to know more. Always eager to learn more.

She’d call her mother on the weekends. They were brief calls, so expensive, but she was determined her mother be part of her great adventure.

“Fabric has masculine and feminine qualities,” Payton would breathlessly repeat. “The perfectly designed suit is a blend of male and female, structure and softness, power and restraint.”

Her mother loved it. And Payton had loved hearing her mother laugh. Had loved knowing she was doing something that made her mother proud.

Mothers and daughters…Payton swallowed around the lump in her throat. Daughters became their mothers.

Daughters replaced their mothers.

Fighting tears, Payton slipped from the girls’ room and closed the door gently behind her. Fighting emotion, she headed back to her room only to discover Marco waiting for her.

“Does it usually take so long to put them down?” he asked.

She blinked, willing the tears to quickly dry. “I was just sitting with them a while. Sometimes I forget to slow down. Forget to just be there with them.”

His dark eyes searched her face. “You seem different, Payton. You’re not the same.”

“It’s been a long year.”

“Working too hard?”

Her mouth twisted. “Doesn’t everyone?”

His head inclined. “Probably.” Marco glanced down the hall. “Do you think they’ll sleep for a while?”

“An hour at least.”

“In that case, maybe it’s time we sat down and talked. Marilena’s gone, the girls are napping. We can have a proper conversation without interruption.”

Proper conversation, Payton repeated as she followed Marco downstairs to the smaller salon. She knew what proper conversation meant. Marco was going to do the talking. It was all about control. He was determined to control his environment; he was a master at controlling himself.

Only that one time…that one time he lost control changed everything.