Page 13 of Their UnBearable Destiny

Chapter Four

Dawn came early enough,and Uberto felt the end of his rest with more impending doom in his heart than normal. New York’s night life wasn’t a draw for him. Since his brothers had found their mates, he’d taken on most of the responsibility for coordinating their security business. Visits with their clients, their staff, and additional interviews with prospectives in both areas took up quite a bit of time.

He didn’t complain about the extra work. They were family. And his brothers had earned time to be happy without the outside word pressing in on them.

Rolling onto his side he took hold of the frame he’d set down on the bedside table and smiled back at the cherubic face that looked back at him. Amara had a half dozen teeth poking through her gums, her lips wet with her teething drool. Before her birth, he would have found the image revolting.

Babies and drool. He would have shuddered.

Babies and drool and a full diaper. He would have taken a long walk off their penthouse roof and welcomed oblivion.

But his niece had changed so many things in his life.

And when he came home in the wee hours of the morning, if Amara’s baby monitor was in the kitchen he’d stand at the kitchen island wolfing down a sandwich and a glass of wine, he’d listen for any indication that the baby was awake and even if she wasn’t, he’d take a few minutes to peek into the room and watch her sleep. Hands in loose fists, arms slack above her shoulders, lips parted in a peaceful slumber, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen… except for Emiliana.

And that’s where his thoughts always strayed to when he thought of beauty.

And when he thought of strength.

And when he thought of fire.

His lips curled up in a lazy grin. She had plenty of fire.

With a jaw stretching yawn,Uberto lumbered into the kitchen. He paused in the door and sniffed at the sausage cooking in the pan on the stove. “If you’re campaigning for Sainthood. I’ll vote for you.”

Felisa laughed and shook her head. “My pleasure,” she gave him a little look over her shoulder, “I make breakfast for us nearly every day before I go and help some of the elders who live in town. I’ll be back to make dinner right around sundown.”

“Thank you. If you need any help from me, just say so.”

She laughed. “It won’t be anything fancy. Just warm filling food.”

“Just because we live in New York,” he growled lightly at her, “doesn’t mean that we eat anything fancy. Filling is the most important part and you’re a great cook. Don’t sell yourself short.” He saw the old-fashioned metal coffee pot on the stove and gestured to it. “May I?”

With a wave of her hand she nodded. “Please, I made extra this morning.”

While he poured himself a cup of the coffee, filling his nose and his soul with the heavy scent of the coffee, he listened to her chopping at the fruit she had on her cutting board.

“How long did you and Ana stay up last night?”

He set the pot down with a heavy clunk. “Are you trying to ruin my good mood?”

“Are you saying you have a good mood, Uberto?” She lifted the edge of the board and let the piece slide into a wide-mouth bowl on the counter. “Never mind. Don’t answer that question. I’d rather hold onto the one in my head. I guess I should have stuck to simpler things.”

“Like?”

She shrugged. “Like… Is there anything that you need for your room?”

He shook his head. “I don’t need much and everything I needed was there. Nothing smelled like mothballs and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Do I have you to thank for all of it?”

“Me?” She shrugged. “Sure, we keep the house open. At first it was because we thought Salvatore would take one smell of the air there and come home. And then when we realized you were going to stay there in America. Then we kept it open hoping you’d come back sometime.”

“I’m glad.” Uberto finished the last sip in his cup. “It didn’t just feel like an empty room,” he began to pour a new cup, “it felt like home.”

“That’s good.” She turned off the heat and set to work plating the food for breakfast. “I was wondering if she’d forgotten anything in there.”

“She?” He took a sip of his coffee and sighed at the heavy brew that swept over his tongue. “Was there someone in there recently?”

“Well, that depends on what you consider ‘recently’,” she turned away to pick up the frying pan, and carried it over to the plates, “I’m surprised you didn’t try to get her to stay with you.”

---