Page 48 of City of Wind and Lies

Rocco spits out a mouthful of whiskey, droplets dotting across the bar as he swipes the back of his hand across his lips. "I'm sorry, did the great Bowie Sorrentino just admit to needing help with a woman?"

I punch his bicep playfully. "Don't be a stronzo, I'm serious."

He lifts his hands in mock surrender, chuckling. "Okay, okay. What can I do?"

I card a hand through my hair as I draw in a deep breath and try to gather all the thoughts that've been running rampant in my mind. "I want to tell Wren about la famiglia. Who we are, who I am, everything," I say, throwing back the rest of my drink, the glass clinking as I bring it down to rest on the countertop.

His eyes round in shock as he finishes off his own whiskey and swivels to face me. "That's a big step, are you sure?"

"I am," I reassure. "Even before the baby, I felt drawn to her. There's something there, Rocco. Something I can't explain." I turn to face him, sighing wistfully. "When I'm with her, my life doesn't seem so routine. She's smart, beautiful and has a sharp tongue. She doesn't just bend for me, isn't with me because I have power, she was choosing me before she had a reason to."

"Hmm," he muses, fingers dipping beneath his collar for that damn gold chain of his.

I wait for him to continue, watching him roll the chain between his forefinger and thumb as he looks up at the framed photos of our family through the years on the wall behind the bar.

Rocco may be younger, but he's always had a good head on his shoulders. With a temper that's tepid and a pragmatic viewpoint, he's always been able to help things make sense when that anger flexes alive inside me. He's also closer to his Ma than I am to mine. My little sister, Nicky, was the feisty princess that our mom was constantly trying to reign in, and I was the quintessential firstborn son. Sure, after Tio Mauro was killed, my dad took Rocco under his wing, but he’d already learned his best qualities from his Ma.

"Hmm?" I parrot. "I bare my soul to you and swallow my pride for a hmm?"

His face splits in a grin. "Easy, cousin. This is new to me, you've never had an ask like this before."

My shoulders slump and I scrub a hand down my face. "I've never wanted someone like this before."

"Okay," he concedes. "You still going to have Doctor Marino run the paternity test?"

Folding my arms across my chest, I slouch back. "Yes, he's to come by next week. Have to wait until she’s at least eight weeks."

"So, wait until you know for sure. Then have a nice dinner with her somewhere private, ask her what she knows, what she thinks she knows, and then just be honest. Answer her questions, diminish her fears, show her she’s as special as you say she is, and take it from there." Dropping the chain, he shifts in his seat and pulls his phone from his pants pocket. He tilts the screen, eyes scanning across it, lips curling up into an impish smile before he places it face down on the bar. "Sorry about that, the boys were checking in."

"Good news?"

"Isa texted too, and by the looks of it, I'll need to stop by and give her a hand," he says slyly.

"Go on, get outta here," I say with a snicker. "Go take care of your bride."

Rocco presses to his feet and claps a hand down on my shoulder. "I wish the best for you, Bowie. I really do. It's been nice seeing you like this."

My brows furrow as I meet his gaze. "Like what?"

"Happy."

It's well after eleven before I finally make it back home. O'Ryan wasn't able to get to the Silos as quickly as he’d planned. The overdoses are still ravaging their way through the city, and the brass have been breathing down his neck. If the OD's are stemming from our stolen product being stepped on, whichever stronzo took the supply has to be running thin by now. We haven't had any more issues at the hangar, and Dallas and Rhodes have been meticulous with the guys taking it to the streets.

All the added stress of this lately has cemented my feelings on getting the outfit away from the drug trade. It's such a small fraction of business that the risk no longer outweighs the reward. I need to set up a meeting with the suppliers in upstate New York and find a way to make the break from the drugs even sooner.

O'Ryan said he'd do his best to poke around Allen's financials and phone records this week, while burying the paperwork among other open cases so as to not raise any questions. He said he’ll let me know if and when he finds something.

The living room is dark when I ease open the front door and step inside, eyes rapidly scanning the space for Wren. Rocco checked in on the girls when he stopped by earlier and brought the dinner they'd ordered. It was hard to tell by text message, but I got the feeling that Wren was disappointed with me being gone all day.

The light from the hall and the glow of the TV outlines the sleeping figures of the girls on the couch. They're in the exact same spots as when I left.

I chuckle to myself as I quietly press the door shut and flip the lock. Toeing off my loafers, I tread quietly across the room, draping the throw blanket from the back of the couch over Drea. Turning toward Wren, I pause. She really is beautiful, even with the bruises that set my teeth on edge. Her lips are parted slightly, her chest rising and falling steadily with each peaceful breath. One of her hands rests against her flat stomach, and that tiny buzz of excitement finds its way through my veins.

The more I take in her features, the more I feel my dick thickening beneath my zipper. Cazzo, I just had her this morning and I'm already desperate to be inside her again. I like sex- who the fuck doesn't- but I've never craved it so much or with just one person. And the fact she’s carrying my child seems to be a turn-on in itself.

Bending at the waist, I snake my arms under her knees and shoulders, scooping her body up and cradling her slender form against my chest as I straighten. I half expect her to wake up as I turn on my heels and head towards the bedroom, but she doesn’t even stir. I place a chaste kiss on her forehead when we get there, still hoping for a reaction, but nothing. To say I’m a little disappointed is an understatement; my sexual appetite is insatiable when it comes to Wren.

Shifting her in my arms, I peel back the covers on the bed before gently laying her down on the mattress. I start to pull the blanket up over her chest when she lets out a sigh and mumbles something inaudible, turning to rest on her side. The way she’s twisted has the material of the shirt straining tighter against her tits, showing her pert nipples through the fabric. I finish tucking her in and step back, my eyes still touring her face as I unclasp my Rolex and empty my pockets onto the nightstand.

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