Page 238 of Forced Vows

Guilia and Raff have a little boy, Neri, who is a year younger than Fitz. They also have the most adorable baby girl named Sophia, but they're calling her Sophie.

"You’re still okay with showing everyone your dad's paintings?" Some of the tension I'm feeling about this bleeds into my voice when I don't mean it to.

Enzo De Luca's portraits are on display in Miceli's studio and his family will see them tonight, too.

"You said you think my family will be fine with this."

Locking my hands behind his neck, I nod vigorously because I do believe it. Mostly. "And I meant it. But someone might say something that hurts your feelings and then I'll have to put castor oil in their after-dinner coffee."

He picks me up so we're eye-to-eye. "That's not going to happen."

"Because you're a big, tough underboss who doesn't get his feelings hurt?" I ask, locking my legs around his torso.

"No, because my family loves me."

I'm still getting used to this emotional honesty from him. It hits me in the feels every time.

"Even Severu," I remind him.

He rolls his eyes. "Even my brother."

"I'm glad you realize that."

"I've always known my brother loves me."

Which I'm sure is true, but there's knowing and there's knowing.

"Severu loves you as his brother, not just the God of War who always has his back." It still feels weird calling the Genovese don by his first name, but he insisted on it while we were staying with them.

Miceli doesn't answer, but he kisses me and that's answer enough.

We're interrupted by one of his men informing us that the De Luca family is on the way up in the elevator.

"I still don't like having bodyguards inside the apartment," I grumble as Miceli lowers me to the floor.

"They won't be once their guardroom is built." His gaze shifts toward the west terrace and then the east.

That look he gets sometimes comes over him.

"Stop it." I straighten the bodice of my dress and smooth the skirt.

Miceli runs his fingers through his hair to smooth. "Stop what?"

"Thinking about kids." I take one last look around the living area but it's too late to change anything now. "We've got at least three years."

"How do you know that's what I was thinking about?" he asks with a superior air that's a lot more believable than the innocence he tried a little bit ago.

"You get this look on your face."

"I'm pretty sure that look was for my plans to fuck you insensate on our private balcony."

"And not a single one of those thoughts ended with me pregnant?" I teasingly demand.

He shrugs.

Because of course they did.

The man wants me to have his baby, and not just to give him an heir. But I'm not getting pregnant before I finish school and he knows it.

---