Page 48 of Assistant to the Mafia

“Well,” Mikey said, “she did just get kicked in the tibia by a tiny ninja.”

“Michele!” Eleonora reprimanded.

Romeo cut a glare over his shoulder. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t joke about that, Mikey.” He released her chin in favor of taking her hand in his and said, “Brother, I need to borrow your office again. Sorry.”

Grace had no opportunity to argue, not that she thought he would listen, before Romeo guided her away in the direction he’d previously taken Lucia. The pain in her chest only worsened, until it was all she could do to keep breathing. She stumbled quite literally into him when he finally stopped and turned to face her again, the impact jarring the faint but remaining ache in her head.

Romeo’s hands settled on her shoulders and he squeezed, his voice rumbling all around her. “Do I have to take you over my knee, too?”

Grace dragged in a breath. “What?”

“I heard enough. I know you were trying to leave.” His hands dropped to her hips, pulling her closer, tighter, against him. “I thought I told you I wasn’t letting you go?”

Grace closed her eyes and let her fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt. “I can’t hurt her like that…” She swallowed, trying desperately to find words. “But I also want my own. If I’m going to have a family, I want at least one biological child.” Her tears slipped free, but still she lifted her head to find his gaze again. “Don’t I deserve that much?”

Romeo cursed and kissed her, his hands dragging up to tangle in her hair. He seemed to forget all about being gentle as he pushed his tongue into her mouth and kissed her as though the act meant the difference between life and death.

Maybe it did.

She was certainly a little unsteady when he eased back, and grateful when he guided her to the dark leather sofa.

“Listen to me,” he said, voice rough and hushed at the same time. “I love my daughter, but for all her life she’s pretty much been treated like a princess. Not even just by me. So it turns out she’s spoiled, and she’s only now learning how to share.” He wiped tears from Grace’s cheeks as he spoke, not letting her look away. “Each new addition to the family’s been a little harder for her than the last. I was delusional to think I could speak gently and have the idea of me bringing someone new into our home go over smoothly. She barely comprehends the whole ‘baby’ thing, and I did not tell her she was being replaced, but all she heard was ‘new child’ and she spiraled into a royal, raging temper tantrum.” Romeo cupped her cheeks. “That’s what this is, angel. A child’s temper tantrum. It’ll pass. She’ll calm down, she’ll see that she’s not losing what she wants to keep—that she’s actually gaining. I promise, she’ll come around.”

Grace sucked in a wet, emotional breath. “I want that,” she whispered. “I want all of this to work. But I don’t want to destroy your relationship with your daughter just to get my dream.”

Romeo offered her a warm smile. “It will work. I’ve never been more sure about anything.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, over the bandage. “The fact that you would hurt yourself to protect mine and Lucy’s relationship only solidifies that.”

She wanted to believe him, to trust his words, but Lucia’s cries still reverberated in her ears. He was looking at this from a rational, adult perspective. Lucia was not.

Romeo adjusted his grip to fold her hands between his. “What Lucia needs to see is some normalcy, and something better. Let her see how much warmer the house is with all three of us together, and that she doesn’t lose me by gaining you. Make sure you spend some time with her, once this tantrum has passed, and give her a chance to see you in a new way. Everything will be fine.”

Grace sat with that for a minute, pushing his words through her emotional turmoil until things inside her settled. And something he’d said earlier resurfaced. “How can we accomplish that if she’s grounded?”

He made a face like he was both amused and confused simultaneously. “She was out of line, angel. I can’t let her go thinking kicking people—especially family—is okay.”

Grace couldn’t help but arch a brow. “Excuse me, Mr. Mafia, how hypocritical is that?”

He barked out a laugh. “You have no idea.” He gave her hands a squeeze. “But yes, she’s grounded. Two weeks—once for each kick.”

“She only kicked me once.”

His head tipped to the side, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “It was the intent.”

“Then she’s innocent. Her intention was to protect herself and her relationship with you. She can’t be blamed for not understanding something she’s never had to face before.”

“She knows better than to kick people, Grace.”

Grace frowned. “One week, then, for one actual kick.” It wasn’t how she wanted to start this relationship, but she recognized his point. And she really shouldn’t be overstepping.

Except Romeo’s lips lifted in a smile. “See? She has no idea how good life’s gonna get.” He kissed her again, short and startlingly sweet, then pulled them both to their feet. “Dante won’t hold dinner for us. Come on.” He didn’t actually wait before threading their fingers together and guiding her out the door, in the direction of the food that once again smelled amazing.

fifteen

What Family Does

Grace insisted on going back to work the next day, though she knew Romeo was less than thrilled with the idea. Truthfully, she would have been willing to take a day to rest in favor of pursuing her physical recovery, if not for the atrocious timing. But she’d already taken one day off without any notice—solid reasoning or not—and with Romeo’s office lacking an assistant entirely, that left the entire top floor unacceptably understaffed. She couldn’t stay out for two days in a row unless she was hospitalized.

Still, when all of those arguments only made Romeo hesitate, she relented a tiny bit and agreed to adjust her schedule in order to go in alongside him. It was easier, since she had no means of transporting herself and felt uneasy about the idea of endangering another new driver. And it gave her a little insight into the morning routine of the household she was living in.

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