Page 186 of Sin & Sapphire

Angelo tilted his head, running his eyes up and down my bare chest before settling on my face, as if weighing and measuring me. “It’s about loving her and each other. But that doesn’t change the fact that our fiery, fierce, loyal Ana is good for us.”

Mollified, I began building the frothy confection that Ana loved so much.

“You’re going to be a fine father,” I said finally. “You defend those you love more fiercely than anyone I’ve ever met. And whatever bloodlust you carry in your veins, it’s far outshined by your love for Ana.”

Angelo watched me thoughtfully. “Our love for Ana,” he said quietly.

Valentin joined us a moment later, his normally cold features pinched with worry. “She told me to stop fussing and kicked me out.”

“It’s normal,” I reassured him, discomfited to find myself the one least worried about our girl. “It goes away after the first trimester for most women.”

Valentin raised an eyebrow at me. “No need to condescend to me, whelp. I understand how pregnancy works.”

I ignored him, instead setting his espresso in front of him. “Eggs are in the fridge,” I said as he sipped. Ana forced herself to eat the nutrient and protein filled breakfasts Valentin made her each morning, but otherwise, she wanted pastries from the bakery downstairs.

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing,” Valentin snarled as he passed by me in the kitchen. “Distracting me by giving me something to do.”

“That’s why he’s the family peacemaker,” Angelo said with a breathtaking smile. “It’s why we love him.”

Valentin rescued the cup in my hand before I could drop it. “Speak for yourself,” he growled but squeezed my shoulder affectionately. “Thank you for—” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Thank you for curbing the worst of my excesses.”

I blinked, then blinked again, still wrapping my head around Angelo’s declaration.

Valentin chuckled, the deep sound sliding against the still healing wounds in my soul. He took the mug out of my hands and set it on the counter, then steered me to sit down beside Angelo while he worked his magic.

Angelo elbowed me in the side with a grin. “You don’t have to say it back,” he teased.

“No, I—” I began, discomfited, but sitting with it. I frowned. “I love you too, both of you,” I said. “And I don’t know how or when the fuck that happened.”

Valentin’s toothy grin was as cruel as it was amused. He didn’t say the words, but my omelet was the first to be served, and exactly how I liked it—with a side of bacon so crunchy it was almost burned.

When Ana appeared at the top of the stairs wearing a simple summer dress that showed off the curves of her breasts and blessed us all with her bright smile, all three of us fell over ourselves to make her comfortable and make sure she got exactly what she craved for breakfast.

Even Valentin. Especially Valentin, much to Angelo’s and my amusement.

Fuck, I loved these assholes so goddamned much.

A month ago,my younger sister, Sofia, forced the Italian American mafia families in Yorkfield to add a sixth seat to their table. I’d stood behind my father as he’d faced his daughter and sourly accepted that she was his equal.

Today, Ana sat in Gio Costa’s old seat, staring across the table at our father. Sofia’s best friend. My lover. The mother of our future child. And the presumptive head of the Costa organization.

Sofia slid into the seat beside her, and the two blonde heads leaned toward one another, like peas in a pod. I smiled to see these two women I loved together again.

Ana reached out to squeeze Sofia’s hand, then looked over her shoulder at me, her green eyes so full of love and affection, it made my heart beat faster in my chest.

Sofia looked between us and grinned toothily before elbowing her best friend. Ana mock glared at her, their friendly, teasing demeanors obviously making the four old men sitting around the table uncomfortable.

Ana and Sofia ignored their glares.

They’d more than earned the right to sit at the head of their respective organizations.

The mafia would have to change if it was going to survive. And these two women were going to lead the way.

My father cleared his throat. “Why are we here again? We don’t need to meet every time some upstart takes control over a family.”

Dante Oscuro, one of Sofia’s husbands, stood against the wall and glared at Tony Russo. Tony ignored him.

Internally, I laughed at the idea that anyone could ignore Dante Oscuro’s glare—the Sicilian boogeyman wasn’t to be taken lightly.

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