Chapter13
Enzio
Bianca built a wall of pillows between us, cuddled her—our—boy and pretended to sleep. Like that was going to protect her from me if I decided to do anything to her.
Unbothered, I put on a fresh pair of underwear and gave them my back. Sleep wouldn’t touch my eyes until the rhythm of her breath turned slow and steady, though. I was literally sleeping with the enemy.
A little surprised she did fall asleep, I spied the quietness of her face and Mario’s. She smashed my expectations of her staying up all night or crying herself to sleep. In fact, Bianca hadn’t cried at all since Cosimo’s death. At least, not in front of me or anyone I knew of.
Either she was tougher than I thought or more dangerous than I anticipated.
I let my eyes close for a few hours before whiny cries woke me up. Baby cries. Not sure if it was a dream or reality, I opened one eye, realizing I was in the hotel suite. It took me a few seconds to register why there was a baby crying in my room. Then it all hit me like a bash on the head.
“Merda. Is that what I’m gonna wake up to from now on?” I chuckled, lifting to my elbows, cocking a brow at the pillow barricade to my side. I glanced past it and found Mario secured between another pillow barricade, Bianca’s side empty.
I carried the little cazzone, smiling at his drooling and the jerks of his limbs. “Where’s Mamma?” Then I tossed the pillows and, with the back of my hand, checked the temperature of the sheets on Bianca’s side. Warm.
“She must be in the bathroom.” I pressed him to my chest and got up. When I started moving, his crying stopped. I tried to put him in the cot, but he cried again, his little arms in the air toward me. I grinned like an idiot. “Uh…va bene. Just this once.”
I carried him again, and the little cazzone smiled. “You like that, don’t you?”
He cooed the most adorable sounds. I held him tighter and kissed his little head. “Well, I love you, too, Don Mario. You’re my baby now, you know? So no more Zio. Only Papà. Va bene? Papà. Can you say that? Papà.”
His lips pressed and parted in a soundless imitation that made me laugh wholeheartedly. “You’ll get there.”
The bathroom door opened, and Bianca emerged in a bathrobe, her hair dripping wet, face, fingers and calves, too. She must have interrupted her shower to check on Mario.
She looked so young without the makeup. So…innocent. She stared at me, swallowing, a flicker of something different in her eyes, not just the usual hate and fury. That and her innocent face set an uninvited twitch in my cock. Cazzo.
She walked toward me. “I was taking a bath…”
A bath. That made more sense since she’d already showered after what I did to her last night, and it was barely dawn. She got restless and needed to relax? Or she felt so dirty after last night one shower wasn’t enough? “Go finish. He’s not hungry. I got him.”
“It’s okay. You go back to sleep.”
“I said I got him. I don’t sleep that much anyway. Get back to your bath before you catch a cold.” Where the fuck did that come from?
She blinked. “Thank you.”
No. Nope. Unaccepted. “Don’t thank me. I just don’t want any more delays happening because of your not feeling well. Again.”
The new flicker vanished, and nothing was left but the blazing hate. Much better. Still tickled my balls, but it wasn’t something I couldn’t control. That other look didn’t belong here.
“Do you have to be such a dick all the time? Do I have to hate every second of my life from now on? You can’t just let me haveonemoment of any positive emotion whatsoever?”
I gave her my smirk. I was certain it simmered her blood.
Chapter14
Bianca
Enzio had ordered breakfast in the room. I had no appetite, but I forced down orange juice and toast. I had to stay strong for my son and what was to come. Falling apart was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
We rode straight to the Lanza mansion afterwards. Unlike Cosimo’s Mercedes, Enzio’s Maserati was an odd choice for a man in his position. Before he usurped my husband’s throne, I’d say his choice of cars fit his personality. I’d always known Enzio to be carefree, extravagant, fun loving and far less strict than my husband—my late husband.
I stole a glance at the man next to me and saw nothing but a monster. Vicious and terrifying. Too gorgeous to be one, though. Angel of Death was more like it.
The way he looked, in an all-black suit and shirt, his face promising terror, flashed a memory in my head. Two years ago, Cosimo and I had our first date. It didn’t end well. As in I ended up in a dark alley with mobsters beating the crap out of me in order to kidnap me. Until my savior, who dressed and looked exactly like the man I was gazing at now, rescued me.
