“Yeah.” I nod my head, looking back at Natalia. “Me too.”
Her ring flashes when she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and a possessive streak flares hot and sharp inside me.
I’d put it on her finger at the beach house three weeks ago, just before sunset, with the ocean behind her and the wind kicking her hair across her face and my pulse hammering against my ribs like a trapped animal. She cried before I even finished the question. Laughed at herself. Cried harder. I kissed her until the roaring in my ears drowned out the goddamn ocean.
Ronnie made us celebrate at the fish shack that night—champagne she’d been “saving for something worth a damn”—and didn’t let us leave until we’d toasted at least four times. Then I took Natalia home and didn’t let her out of bed until morning.
Across the patio, Natalia looks up like she feels me watching her. Her gaze finds mine immediately. Her mouth softens.
Mine.
Not in the way men like Anton Kozlov ever meant it. Not ownership. Not control.
In the only way that matters.
Chosen. Claimed with love. Kept safe with teeth if I have to.
Natalia hands Valentina back to Mia and starts toward me, her shoulders relaxed, an easy smile on her mouth. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing her like this.
When she reaches me, I catch her by the waist and pull her into my side.
“Hi,” she says, smiling up at me.
“Hi, yourself.”
Her fingers slide against my stomach, light and absentminded. “You’ve been glaring at everyone for ten minutes.”
“I have not.”
She arches a brow.
I glance toward where Matteo is trying to stop one of the twins from launching a pool toy at somebody’s head while Paolo looks on like he’s already accepted that violence is inevitable. “Fine. Maybe a little.”
“A little,” she repeats.
“You wandered off.”
Her smile deepens. “I walked ten feet away to see the baby.”
“Exactly.”
Dario makes a gagging sound and takes himself elsewhere, which is probably for the best.
Natalia laughs under her breath and smooths a hand over my shirt. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet you love me.”
“Inexplicably,” she says. “Against my better judgment.” She stands on her toes and kisses me anyway, soft and lingering.
It should not be legal for a woman to kiss a man like that in front of his family and then pull back looking all innocent. Criminal behavior.
My hand tightens on her waist. “You keep that up, we’re leaving early.”
“Luca.”
I grin. “Just being honest.”
She shakes her head, but there’s color high in her cheeks now, and I feel absurdly pleased with myself.
