Page 187 of Sin & Sapphire

And yet, Angelo Costa, an enforcer and hitman just as scary, stood beside Dante, cleaning his fingernails with a knife, and I wasn’t scared at all.

Valentin stood at the other end of the room, ignoring us as he checked his email. The affairs of the American mafia meant very little to a French billionaire, I supposed.

“We have too many chairs at the table anyway,” Francesco Baresi said. His eyes cut to me before returning to my father. “I count three Russos.”

Ana raised her chin. “Luca will take my last name when he marries me.”

“The fuck he will,” Tony snarled as the table erupted in conversation.

The fuck I wouldn’t. Gio’s assets were held in trust for Ana’s future husband, and I intended to make it clear to the whole fucking world who was really in charge.

Ana rubbed her stomach, beginning to show, and she said softly, “My child will be a Costa.”

“And a Russo,” Tony snapped.

Francesco Baresi slammed his fist on the table. “Enough squabbling!”

“But you’re right,” Tony agreed. “Once Luca has married Ana Costa, I intend to retire.”

The table fell silent. I waited as the men looked at me, one by one. My sister’s smile warmed me from the inside out.

“At that time, I believe five chairs will be enough,” Tony said. His eyes met mine, and for the first time in my life, I saw a hint of pride in them. “Luca will lead the Russo family into the future and through the merger with the Costas.”

Ana reached behind her and wiggled her fingers behind her chair. I captured her hand in mine, then gently maneuvered it until my hand rested on her shoulders, her fingers twined in mine.

Sofia turned around and grinned. “Congratulations, big brother.”

Mario Carlotti cleared his throat. “Now that the Russos are finished congratulating themselves for taking over half the city, can we talk about what we’re going to do about the brewing war within the bratva?”

An hour later, Ana and Sofia kissed each other’s cheeks like they’d spent their entire lives in Europe and then climbed into their respective armored SUVs.

I hopped into the driver’s seat, and Angelo helped Ana climb into the back, bending to kiss her belly once she was seated. He hopped into the passenger seat, and Valentin joined Ana in the back.

He offered her his arm, and she scooted close to him, leaning her head on his chest. He reached over to lay a hand on her stomach, and she sighed with contentment.

Ana was fuckinghappy.

Angelo quietly took care of threats in Yorkfield, and his father was beginning to make noises about merging the two branches of the Costa family so that he could retire.

Valentin wanted to expand his construction business into the States. He’d met with Benedict Ford last week—an American contractor based in DC whose relationship was as unconventional as ours.

And me? All I wanted to do was make Ana my wife.

“Hungry?” Valentin asked Ana.

She nodded, her lips pursing in frustration.

“What’re you craving?” And I had to look away from the intensity in his expression.

“Whatever’s easiest,” she answered, then squealed a second later. Valentin’s fingers were locked around one of her nipples, twisting it hard.

“What are you craving, toy?” he repeated.

“Cannoli,” she whispered. “With chocolate and pistachios.”

He twisted her nipple again.

“Maître,” she gasped. “Cannoli, please,maître.”

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