Luca scowls at Ashton. “He’s joking. There will be no wild parties or countless girls coming into your room. We have Zeke here, who needs a normal life.”
“Normal,” Ashton says and raises an eyebrow, glancing at me. Nothing about our situation or circumstance is normal. “Right,” he slowly draws out.
“Don’t make me regret all of us moving in together,” Luca says. It sounds like a threat, but none of this was up to him. His parents pulled the strings, like they always do.
Zeke squirms in Ashton’s arms, growing restless, and he lifts him into the air, pretending to throw him, this time at Luca. “Catch?”
“Don’t you dare throw my son!” Harper’s voice emanates through the hallway.
“Just kidding,” Ashton says. “Aren’t we?” He nuzzles Zeke, who grabs at Ashton’s nose.
Harper stalks her way past the boxes toward us. “Give him here,” she says, holding out her arms for Zeke.
The moment Zeke sees his mama, he starts squirming for her and holds his arms out.
Ashton relinquishes his hold on the little boy, and I smirk proudly. “Good, now you can help with unpacking,” I say.
Luca points at the boxes labeled bathroom. “Might as well get started, since you’re finished in your bedroom.”
“Can I help Nova unpack? She has a lot of boxes in her room,” Ashton asks, but he’s looking at me, waiting for my answer.
“No,” Luca and I both say in unison.
“You’re no fun,” he mutters as he grabs the nearest bathroom box abandoned in the hallway and shoves it into the bathroom.
“It could be worse,” I say. “Mom and Dad offered to help. We could have the entire mafia crew unpacking our things.”
“And planting bugs,” Harper quips, carrying Zeke with her back down the hallway.
“They wouldn’t do that—right?” I ask, glancing at Luca and Ashton.
Ashton doesn’t answer. He goes into the bathroom with the box and shuts the door.
I doubt he’s unpacking, probably just sulking that I got him into trouble.
Eleven
Moreno
Knocking on Dante’s office door, I’ve been inwardly debating my options.
Stewing over the truth isn’t going to make it go away.
But I can’t keep ignoring what I saw.
I won’t.
Something must be done about it.
“Can I have a word with you, sir?” I steal Dante’s attention for a beat, needing to talk with him.
I’ve waited too long as it is.
“Of course,” he says and gestures for me to step into his office and have a seat.
Dante’s brow furrows, and he loosens his tie. It’s late, and while we should be closing up for the night, there’s always more to do.
“That look on your face has me worried,” Dante says.
