He holds up his hands. “Fine. No help needed.”
“Wait—,”
The smirk on his face as he strolls in and lifts the bag from the bed wipes away as he gets closer. “Fucking hell.”
“Yeah.” We both stare down at Alessia. “Do you know how to do this?”
“It can’t be that hard.” He frowns.
It can, in fact, be that fucking hard.
I drop another wipe into the trash with a wince. I’m only glad Rocco can’t see me. Next to me, Gio unsuccessfully tries to hide his gag. “Remind me why I’m helping you with this, V’Arezzo.”
“Leave, and I will fucking shoot you.” We wrangle the diaper beneath Alessia, battling with the ridiculous number of tabs on display until they’re all stuck to… something, at least.
“There.” I hoist her up triumphantly. “Nice and clean,il mio cuore.”
The smile slips off my face as quickly as the diaper slips to the floor. “What thefu—,”
The second time proves more successful, and Gio hands me a playsuit with approximately one hundred fucking buttons. I stare down at it. “Tell me there’s a two-piece in there. A dress. Anything but the damn playsuit.”
He holds up a sundress instead, and I force the relief from my face as I pull it over her head. Alessia claps her hands. “Ma.”
Gio and I exchange glances as she says it again.
“Where is she?” he asks quietly, and I lift up my shoulder as I balance Alessia with one hand.
“Not here.” I know. I went looking for her this morning. “With Luc, I think.”
“She’s scared.” He says the words quietly, his gaze on Alessia. “She’s scared that if she gets too close, that it will all be taken from her again.”
“I know that.”
None of us know how much time we’ll have. Life in the Cosa Nostra does not lend itself to a happy retirement.
All the more reason to live day by day. I stroke my hand down Alessia’s back. “She is a gift, Gio.”
“Family,” he says quietly.
I shoot him a look. “Have you heard anything from yours? You have an estate here too, right?”
He nods. “My parents are an hour away to the South. With Rosa there… I need to go and visit them.”
He looks heavy at the thought. I consider my last sighting of Carlos Fusco. He lost his daughter in the most horrific way.
And now… the bottom drops out of my stomach as I think of it.
“I’ve never seen that area. Mind if I tag along? Unless you’d prefer to go alone.”
He glances at me, surprise making his brows lift. “No. I would… it’s a nice area.”
I clear my throat. “Then it’s settled.”
We walk downstairs into the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Stefano Asante. He sits with a coffee in front of him, dark eyes raising above the top of the newspaper in his hands. “Good morning.”
I offer him a nod. Mydaughter, however – who I have decided will need to be watched with an eagle eye as she grows older – lets out a sound of pure excitement, throwing herself forward with such enthusiasm that I nearly lose hold of her. “Ba!”
Stefano puts down the paper, a wary look on his face as he glances between us. “Uh. Should I…,”
