“I’ll explain later,” Alessio tells her.
She shakes her head and retrieves her phone, using her text-to-speech app to loop me in on the conversation.
“I need to know who the godfather of my child is before we go through with this. He’s been lying about his last name. What else don’t I know?”
I have to give the woman credit. Despite her small stature, Natalia has a backbone of steel. She isn’t afraid to go to war for her beliefs, even if it means standing toe to toe with theCosa Nostra. I admire her for that.
Alessio glances at me, and I nod at his silent question, indicating he can answer.
“Angelo was imprisoned by IVI for a crime he didn’t commit.” Alessio signs the words as he speaks them. “While he was working with the Tribunal to clear his name, several attempts were made on his life. The Tribunal relocated him while they investigated, and eventually released him once enough evidence was brought forward. Only a few of us knew he was free, and he’s been using the name Augustine to keep it under wraps until his case was resolved.”
Natalia turns to me and types out another question. “Has it been resolved?”
“Soon,” I assure her.
The dark promise in my tone seems to quell any lingering fears she has about my connection to her family, and she offers me a nod before she signs to her husband.
“Yes.” He kisses her on the forehead. “Let’s get this baby baptized.”
The ceremony is a small,private affair with only Alessio and Natalia’s most trusted guests. Abella and I join the happy parents as they present Madalena, and after some questions, scriptural readings, and prayers, the baptism is performed.
Afterward, a reception takes place in the downtown Seattle IVI compound, where lunch will be served. Madalena is passed to Abella while their son, Nino, is left in my care, so the parents can thank their guests for attending.
Tension lingers between us as Abella watches me interact with Nino. There’s something in her gaze as it drifts to the boy’s small hand in mine, but before I can identify it, she focuses herattention on the baby and leaves it there for the remainder of the afternoon.
An unwelcome feeling settles in my gut as I watch her cart the little girl around the room, smiling and playing with her as naturally as the sun rises. There was a time when she was the only mother I could imagine for my future children. Seeing her this way triggers an unwanted image of her swollen withmy child. That’s a dangerous thought—one I’ve indulged far too many times. It’s a curse, not a fantasy, but nevertheless, my cock stirs, and irritation winds its way through my muscles.
Fuck.
I glare at her, and she shoots me a questioning glance. I need to release some pent-up energy, and when Alessio returns to take Nino off my hands, I know exactly how I’m going to do it.
“Where are you going?” my cousin asks.
“Don’t worry about it.” I wave off his concern and grab two plates from one of the tables, carrying them to the back of the room where Nicky’s babysitting Abella’s guard.
“Here.” I slide a plate to each of them and take a seat next to Tony.
“I’m not here to eat.” He shoves the plate away. “I’m here to watch Abella.”
“I think you and I got off on the wrong foot.” I lean back in my chair and follow his gaze to the woman in question.
He grunts in response, and a beat of silence passes as I watch him watch her. He doesn’t know our history. That’s the only logical explanation for how fucking blatantly he’s ogling her right now.
“Have you had a taste of that yet?” I ask.
“No.” He stiffens. “She’s a job. I keep things professional.”
“But you want to.” I toss him a lazy smile. “C’mon, you think I don’t recognize that look in your eyes? We’re all men here. You can admit it.”
He shifts in his seat and shrugs. “She’s a very beautiful woman. I won’t complain about being paid to stare at her all day.”
Nicky arches a brow at me in question, wondering where I’m going with this. He knows me well enough to understand this isn’t leading to the Kumbaya Tony thinks it is.
Abella bends down to adjust her heel, and Tony can’t peel his eyes away from her. Heat licks along my spine, and my voice drops an octave at my next question.
“Tits or ass. Which would you go for first?”
Tony pretends to consider the question, as if he hasn’t thought about this every night when he’s jerking himself off. I’m not sure what’s more pathetic, his panting like a dog or the micro-boner in his pants.
