Page 75 of Naughty Santa Daddy

“Yeah!” Amos shouts in excitement.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I deeply inhale, praying that this Hallmark movie scene isn’t about to play out in my kitchen. Nothing about me screams ‘let’s bake Christmas cookies.’ I can’t tell you the last time I’ve even cooked a meal. If my men were seeing this play out, I’d have to kill them just for being a witness. It would be bad for business if it got out that the head of the mafia bakes Christmas cookies with his captive.

“I’m sure Greta would be more than happy to accommodate that request,” I try to reason.

“Aw, come on, Dad. I want to frost my own,” Amos whines.

“Please, Massimo,” Hadley says quietly, drawing my attention to her. Her gorgeous brown eyes are locked on me. “I didn’t grow up with a family. I never got to do this kind of thing, but I’ve always wanted to. So please, just for tonight can we pretend it’s a massive holiday baking session?”

How can I say no to that?

“Alright,” I reluctantly agree. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” I ask to Hadley’s back as she runs after Amos into the kitchen.

I need to keep some sort of space between Hadley and me. If Amos always stays between us, it would create the boundary I need. You know, the one that will stop me from fucking her on a counter full of flour.

Hadley

I could see him about to tell Amos no, and I couldn’t let that happen. The child in me needed this experience just as muchas Amos. This is probably my only shot. I don’t exactly have a lot waiting for me once whatever this mess is gets taken care of. What use would he have for me? His proposition of warming his bed will only last so long until he’s bored. I’ll end up going back to my dead-end job and shitty car that barely starts.

“Do you want to help me find all of the stuff we need to make these?” I ask Amos. It’s the most awkward feeling looking through someone else’s cabinets trying to find things.

“Yes!” Amos exclaims with excitement. I rattle off each ingredient one by one, watching the happiness increase with each one he finds.

Massimo is standing in the corner of the kitchen, leaning back against the countertop with a soft smile that I only ever see come out when he’s looking at his son. He doesn’t show it often, but you can tell he loves that boy more than anything.

“Alright, let’s make this dough,” I say excitedly.

We spend the next three hours rolling, cutting, baking, and frosting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many cookies in my life. Every shape and size is laid out in front of us, covered in red, green, and white frosting. Much to my disappointment, Massimo didn’t join in. It’s stupid to even feel like that, and a part of me hates that I do. He never left his spot in the corner. One thing I did notice, though, that smile never left his face. I swear I even caught him looking at me like that once.

“I think you’ve had enough cookies, Amos,” Massimo says just as Amos shoves his sixth cookie in his mouth. “You need to brush your teeth because it’s time for bed.”

“But I don’t want to go to bed.”

“The cookies will still be here in the morning. Bed, now,” Massimo says, tone final.

“Fine.” Amos’ shoulders slump. “Goodnight, Hadley.”

“Goodnight, Amos. Thank you for baking with me,” I say with a smile as he leaves the kitchen to head up to bed before turningmy attention to Massimo. “I’m going to get all of this cleaned up and then I think I’m going to go to bed as well. Today has been draining.”

“Greta will take care of this. Head up, and I’ll meet you there,” Massimo says as he slowly stalks towards me. My heart races with every step he takes.

“I can’t just leave this for her. I know you don’t live a normal life, but in my world, people would call that rude.”

“Yeah? Well, we’re not in your world,Tesoro. We’re in mine.” He brings his hand to my face, making me freeze in anticipation of what he’s going to do. “It’s about time you remember that.” His finger lightly brushes the tip of my nose. My breath catches in my throat as I watch him bring that same finger to his mouth and lick it clean. “You had a little frosting on your nose. Go to bed.”

The finality in his tone has me leaving the kitchen without another word. I learned at a very young age to pick my battles, and this one isn’t worth fighting. Not when I’m so mentally and physically drained.

Changing into a shirt to sleep in, I climb into bed and turn off the light on the nightstand, leaving me waiting in the dark for Massimo to join me.

“Take your shirt off.” I can barely make out Massimo’s silhouette in the doorway.

“What?”

“Take it off. Don’t make me say it again,” Massimo says, his voice rough.

Something in his tone is telling me now is not the time to test him. Grabbing the hem of the shirt, I pull it over my head, discarding it on the floor beside the bed.

“Good girl,” he rumbles. “Lie back.”

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