“I’m starving, should we check lunch?” Fly asks.
I nod with enthusiasm, and Nicky quickly and obediently leads the way, too obediently. When we reach the dining room—another humongous space facing the beautiful garden—I quickly walk to the sideboard covered in trays of sweets. I don’t let anyone stop me as I start the tasting. I intend to let my belly burst like a garbage bag today.
“Who else is coming for lunch? All of Ireland?” I joke, dropping a piece of banana to Nacho.
“Lunches at Leone’s house are notoriously and impeccably exquisite.” A stiff old man in uniform appears from nowhere, delivering the haughty statement while giving me the stink eye. He positions two baskets of bread on the long dining table and leaves.
The butter biscuits are melt-in-my-mouth divine. Same for the cherry rolls.
“Who’s Nosferatu over there? He almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Giovanni, the butler,” Fly tells me. “He’s very serious about his job.” Nicky nods, earning a biscuit.
He doesn’t eat despite the eye-loving he’s giving it.
“It’s only healthy to be a little naughty sometimes.” I wink at him while taking a bite of a pistachio cream-filled croissant and moaning like I did this morning under Luca.
“Did you take a bite from all of these sweets?” I suddenly hear the butt-ler’s nosy voice again, and when I open my eyes, yes, he’s glaring at me.
“Need to find which one I’ll eat first,” I explain, putting the croissant on the plate with the other half-eaten sweets.
“First?” He scrunches up his face, and I didn’t know a human could have this many wrinkles.
“Don’t worry, I’ll eat them all and more. I predict a food coma in my very near future.” I give him a bright, large fuck-you smile.
“He will, I assure you,” Fly tries to help. But the butt-ler still glowers before taking that stick up his ass away with him.
Windbag, I think, but don’t voice. Nicky is with us. He’s pulling at my sweater.
“How old is he? A hundred and ten?” I joke, enjoying the kid’s glowing smile.
“Lil’ bro!” I hear from behind, before a mountain of a man lifts Fly off the ground and hugs him.
It’s River, the resurrected brother. Nicky steps closer to me, and I lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder, pushing him more firmly against my side.
“The infamous Art Enzino.” Akira, River’s colorful husband, stops in front of me, while the brothers keep yapping joyfully.
“The more infamous Yakuza heir. I’ve heard interesting stuff about you.”
“It’s all true,” he states, looking down at Nicky. “Hey, little twerp, like my hair?” He points at the green tips. He’s wearinga white jacket with nothing underneath, showing his hairless, well-defined chest, and jeans. Not bad for a thug.
Nicky touches his ear.
“My rabbit earring? Is this what you dig?” Akira smirks, looking back at River for a moment. “Do you believe me when I say that I live with a six-foot bunny?”
Nicky shakes his head.
Akira chuckles. “Fair enough. But watch. Bunny?” he calls, and River turns toward him straight away. “Ta-da!” He gives Nicky jazz hands, making the kid frown at him.
“Yep, River doesn’t look like a bunny to me either,” I whisper to Nicky.
“Art, this is my brother, River.” Fly finally comes back to us.
We exchange introductions, then Nicky points to his father’s office and runs there with Nacho. That kid needs a dog of his own.
“Nice outfit,” Akira compliments me, just as I feel a strong arm wrapping around my waist.
“Thank you, although I’d have chosen a little differently.” A quip to Luca’s crazy jealousy.
