Page 133 of Enforcer

“Good, now burn the fucking thing,” Slate grumbles as Dante bends over to grab it off the ground.

I adjust Nico on my hip as he shoves his chubby little hand, his favorite pastime, in my hair. I think Dante was correct from the beginning; he’s a little brute like his father.

Brynne beams next to the photographer as she positions Dante and me for the photo.

As the photographer is counting down, Nico leans in, his forehead pressing into my cheek as he sighs. He’s getting tired, and it’s been a long day.

“Can you do one more photo for Auntie Lyss?” I ask him, turning his face toward the camera.

“Smile, bub,” I croon, and he laughs as Brynne covers her mouth at us, tears running down her cheeks.

The photographer shows her a few of the shots, and she wipes her eyes. “They’re perfect.”

Slate returns with the now-clean pacifier, handing it back to his son with an eye of skepticism that he should return it.

They’ve been trying to break him of it, but Nico is a stubborn Ricci and won’t give it up. Plus, Auntie Lyss sneaks him new ones all the time. This is my way of keeping him little for just a bit longer.

Nico snatches it, shoving it into his mouth as he leans beneath my chin and sighs.

“Nap time, huh, bub? I have to agree.”

There’s a dinner after this, but I’m not feeling too well.

I’ve been grappling with telling Brynne all day that I need to get home after this and skip the dinner, but I’m Nico’s godmom, and I know I need to be there.

I find the quiet room and sit on the bench with Nico, letting my head lean against the wall as I close my eyes.

His breathing is evening out as he drifts to sleep, making me even sleepier.

For a while, we stay like that.

The door squeaks open, and my eyes fly wide as Brynne winces.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t realize you were nearly asleep, too.”

I smile. “I’m so exhausted today.”

“I noticed. You’ve looked off all week long.”

I started working for Brynne six months ago, and now that we’re in a rhythm and there’s not a Ricci Enforcer tailing me at every turn, the job is much easier.

It’s much more mundane.

If you can call being a mafia Don’s right-hand man mundane.

“Want me to take him?” she asks, sitting beside me.

I shake my head. “No. It’s the first time my stomach hasn’t hurt all day. Let him sleep.”

He’s resting his weight against my front, my arms wrapped around him as he snores softly.

I kiss his dark hair, which is beginning to lose that baby scent and close my eyes.

“I noticed you’ve been feeling sick lately. Have you missed your period?”

My eyes fly wide for the second time, and I turn to her, realization sinking through me as my heart races and Nico shifts under the distress.

“Oh, fuck,” I whisper.

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