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“I hate you!”

Giulia turns on her heel and storms out of the kitchen. A door slams down the hall.

Damiano smiles.

“Asshole thought he could go around me and get to my sister.”

I stare at him. His smile disappears.

“Mom.”

I keep staring.

“Ma, come on. I know the guy. He only wants to get into her pants.”

Jude puts his coffee down.

“What’s his name?”

I point the wooden spoon at our son.

“Do not tell your father who it is.”

Jude looks at me. “Why?”

“Because you’ll have all your brothers and your nephews standing on that poor boy’s doorstep before sunrise.”

“He touched my daughter?” Jude looks at Damiano.

“Oh my God,” I sigh.

“He didn’t touch her,” Damiano says. “Yet.”

Jude’s jaw tightens. I turn toward him and put both hands on my hips.

“Don’t test me on this, Grumpy.”

His mouth twitches. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sixteen years of parenthood and eighteen years of marriage have taught me exactly how much that sentence is worth.

Absolutely fucking nothing.

I turn the stove down before my sauce burns and glance toward the back windows.

“Where are the boys?”

Jude comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

“Treehouse.”

I smile and lean back against his chest. Of course they are. Luca and Dante practically live in that thing.

His lips brush my temple.

“Dami!” I call.