Luca had invited some of his men to go dirt bike riding on the property. One by one, the expensive bikes were being rolled down ramps and onto the grass. When the last one was delivered, cheers had gone up, the men ready for the rush of the ride.
Each man was decked out in gear—riding suits, helmets, gloves, and boots. Brando held his helmet, looking mighty damn fine in the custom-made suit. The number seven was plastered to his back.
With the start of the first bike, the rumble seemed to growl and echo. Mia didn’t seem so sure about the noise.
“Dats,” she whispered, her lower lip sticking out.
Taking her from the stroller, I kept her close. “It’s all right,mia vita.” I kissed her temple, patting her back. “It’s a bike.Vroom.Vroom.Look!” I pointed. “Papàhas one.”
“Apà,”she murmured, her attention catching at his name. She lifted her head, eyes narrowing against the glare of the sun, to see him better.
In this light, the gold dancing in the air enticed the gold in her hair to come out and play. It was the most beautiful color of chestnut, complementing her complexion and her eyes.
She started to rock in my arms, chanting,“Apà, apà, aaaaapà, eee, appà!”
Though I knew he couldn’t hear her, his head lifted, knowing exactly where to find us—the entire time we walked, he kept an eye on us—and he smiled at her. He put his hand to his heart, to his lips, then he offered them (his heart and kisses) to her.
“BlowPapàkisses, baby.”
She blew him kisses. He pretended to catch them, collecting them for his heart to keep.
I could feel his desire to come closer, but he didn't. Romeo, on the other hand, detached from the group, running over to give Juliette a quick kiss. I pretended not to hear her comment to him about how fine hisculolooked in the suit, and him promising her later, she could have it all night long.
“Does the sound bother the children?”he said in Italian after their moment was over.
“No,” Juliette said, running a hand through Angelo’s hair. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Our Mia?” He looked at me.
“I think she’s still unsure,” I said.
“Come toZio,” he said to her, taking her from my arms.
I was unsure about letting her get too close, seeing as she had been afraid before, but I knew Romeo would take care of her. He turned to Juliette, and she handed Angelo over.
Both of the kids stared at him, in the general direction of his hair. To be honest, it was spellbinding. These men came equipped with hair that would make a woman jealous. Lashes, eyebrows,allof it. Nothing about them could ever be considered feminine, though. They had too much testosterone. Too much alpha in the blood.
Romeo strode through the golden beams, Brando watching his every move. He even gave me a look that conveyed exactly what he was thinking.You let him take her.I shrugged in response.I knew she’d be safe.
One of the bikes roared to life and Mia startled, looking for me, and then she let out a piercing cry. I went to go to her, but Brando got there first. He took her in his arms, shushing her.
If she wouldn’t have been crying, it would have been funny. Luca, Rocco, Dario, and Romeo hovered around Brando as he attempted to console her. They didn’t like it when she cried. Sons could cry and scream, and they would hardly blink an eye. If she squeaked…a chorus of “Our Mia!” would ring out, and shewould have comforting hands on her as quick as the noise was made.
Brando got her to quiet down in no time, talking to her, pointing at the bike, even touching it. It looked like she wanted to touch it, her curiosity getting the best of her, but she didn’t. To her it probably growled, and not in a fun way. Not in the way her father, uncles, and grandfather did.
Luca gave orders to cease any starting of the bikes. His tone was level, but under the surface a ferocious need to protect her came through. I didn’t particularly like the way he was looking at Romeo, as though he had made a bad move and caused her tears.
Juliette caught it too.
“He’s scary, isn’t he?” Her voice came out soft, barely above a whisper. “I mean, he’s gorgeous. One of those men who only get more beautiful with age. Can you even call him gorgeous or beautiful? Those words almost seem too feminine to describe such a man, but what else is there?” She shook her head. “Gorgeous or not, he makes my heart pump too fast, like I’m being chased even when I’m not.”
If I had to choose a word that described him, it’d be lethal. The kind of finality that comes with the last tender kiss goodbye.
I wasn’t afraid of him or his kiss. But for our men? Terrified.
Juliette sucked in a breath and said no more as Luca walked toward us holding our children. She muttered something about summoning him with her thoughts before she hastily took Angelo with a stuttered out “Grazie, Papà.”
We stood in a row like prized wives, all dressed to impress, with our fine clothes and shoes, jewelry and makeup and perfume. Our children too—sans the accessories.
