Page 33 of Lured By the Cartel

The babies had finally settled, their tiny bodies warm against my chest. Finally, some peace, but I knew it wasn't going to last long.

A few minutes later, I heard something crash in his office, followed by more Italian cursing. The babies stirred but didn't wake, thankfully. I knew what was happening – Marco was losing his temper again, and I had to step in and do something about it. It wasn't going to be the first time.

When he appeared in the doorway again thirty minutes later, his knuckles were bloody—probably from punching a wall—and his eyes were dark with barely contained rage.

"They think I'm weak," he said, voice like gravel over steel. "They think because I'm changing diapers now, I've gone soft. There are so many assumptions about me they've been making."

"Then show them they're wrong," I replied, carefully laying the sleeping twins in their bassinets. "But not by abandoning your children to prove a point. You know doing that would be wrong."

He crossed the room in three strides, pulling me against his chest. "How do you do this?" He whispered into my hair. "How do you make it look so easy?"

"It's not easy," I admitted. "I'm just better at hiding my frustration than you are. I don't yell as much."

He chuckled darkly. "That's not hard. I've never been good at hiding my anger, and yelling is in my nature."

"No," I agreed, reaching up to touch his bloody knuckles. "You haven't and I know that you can't control your yelling."

His phone buzzed again, but this time he ignored it, instead pressing his forehead against mine. "I'll figure this out," he promised. "I'll find a way to be both—the father they deserve and the boss I need to be. I'm sure I can find a way."

"I know you will," I said, believing it. Because if anyone could find a way to balance these two worlds, it was Marco. He just needed time to figure it out.

A baby's cry split the air again, and Marco tensed against me. But this time, instead of fleeing to his office, he took a deep breath and turned toward the sound. He was already making some progress.

"Okay," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "Let me try again."

Chapter 16

Lucas

I woke up to an empty bed and muffled singing coming from the nursery. What was happening? I asked myself. Curious, I followed the sound, only to stop in the doorway, trying desperately not to laugh at the sight before me. I never thought I would see something like that.

There was Marco, the most feared man in the city, dancing around the nursery with both twins against his chest, singing what sounded like a very off-key version of "Old MacDonald Had a Farm" in a mix of English and Italian. His accent made the song even funnier.

"E-I-E-I-O," he sang softly, swaying with the babies. "E sulla fattoria aveva un... what's the word for pig? Maiale? Yes, maiale... E-I-E-I-O."

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. The mighty Marco Rossi, wearing designer sweatpants and a spit-up-stained t-shirt, teaching our sons about farm animals in two languages. Who would have thought? He could be so sweet sometimes. It made me wonder the kind of person he would be if and when he was out of the cartel.

"Con un oink-oink qui," he continued, completely oblivious to my presence, "e un oink-oink là..."

"Your pronunciation needs work," I finally said, unable to hold back anymore. I tried, but I couldn't.

Marco spun around, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. The movement made Alessandro giggle, while Matteo just drooled contentedly on his father's shoulder. They were both so happy with him. It really showed that he was their father.

"How long have you been standing there?" He demanded, though his usual commanding tone was somewhat undermined by the baby burp cloth draped over his shoulder and the fact that he was still swaying gently.

"Long enough to know that your Italian farm animals need serious help," I teased, walking into the room. "What happened to the scary cartel boss who makes grown men tremble? And shouldn't your Italian be better than that?"

"He's taking a break to teach his sons about agriculture," Marco replied with complete seriousness, making me snort. "It's never too early for education, amore."

"And you decided 4 AM was the perfect time for this lesson?"

"They were awake," he shrugged, careful not to disturb the babies. "And Antonio called earlier about some trouble with the Russians, so I was up anyway. Might as well make it educational."

I raised an eyebrow. "And the dancing?"

"Movement helps," he said defensively. "I read it in one of those books you bought. Besides," he added with a smirk, "no one outside this room will ever know about it, right?"

"Oh really?" I pulled out my phone, waving it teasingly. "What if I already recorded it?"

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