Page 106 of Deceitful Oath

When the realization hits her, an ear-piercing shriek flies out of her mouth and she shoots onto my lap. I laugh as she straddles me, placing tiny kisses across my face.

“Ew, no one needs to see mom and dad make out,” Enzo announces, picking up his plate and walking into the living room.

“It’s really ours?” she whispers, leaning her forehead on mine.

“It really is,” I smile.

Lux is radiant all night, the good news having transformed her into something brighter than the sun.

I’ve never felt this happy in my life. Sometimes being with her feels like I’m inside a fireworks display, every burst of color and light igniting something electric in my soul.

Later that night, as we’re drifting off to sleep, she places her cheek on my chest and peeks over at me.

“I’ve been thinking about our discussion this afternoon,” she starts shyly. “About your career choices.”

“This feels like a lecture a parent gives when their kid chooses to go to art school,” I joke, not wanting to get into the topic now.

“Hey! I want to go to art school!”

I laugh at her false indignation, kissing her sweetly on the forehead.

“Anyway,” she continues, clearing her throat. “What about a semi-retirement?”

“Interesting, how would that work?”

“Well, I was thinking you might handle the business side of it, working from home when you can, going into the city for meetings,” she pauses, glancing at me to gauge my reaction. “But when it comes to the dirty work, you choose someone else. It’s like you’ll be the face of the family, but you won’t get your hands bloody anymore.”

“You know what?” I tease, pulling her closer. “That might be crazy enough to work.”

Chapter Forty-Four

Lux

“I think you have a paint drip,” Rafael teases, examining the section of wall I just finished painting.

“I think you have a screw loose,” I quip, pointing to the half-assembled crib in the corner.

“Hey! Double-entendre,” he grins. “Nice.”

I shrug with a smile and stretch my back, groaning in pain. As much as Rafael fought me on it, I wanted to be involved in getting Bean’s room together—even if that meant sacrificing my back.

“Are you finished with your aggressive mama bear nesting thing now?” he asks, wrapping his arms around me and rubbing my back. “Can I call in the professionals to finish painting the room?”

“No,” I pout.

Putting this room together for our baby is huge for me. I handpicked everything from the sunshine yellow wall color to the vintage-looking crib.

Ever since the mess with the Mancinis and Vince ended and Rafael went into semi-retirement, I have been over-the-moon happy.

But even I know the hard part is coming up fast. Late night feedings, never enough sleep, stinky diapers—I want to enjoy the calm before the storm as much as I can.

“Even if the professional happens to be Enzo?”

I scoff, untangling myself from his arms. “Enzo is a hardcore mafia dude. He wouldn’t drive out to the country to paint a baby’s room.”

“Enzo sits in his penthouse staring at computers and eating cold pizza all day,” I correct her. “He’s never shot a man, or even handled a weapon. And he actually painted houses to put himself through grad school, ipso facto…”

“Don’t you dare ipso facto me,” I warn, grabbing the roller again. “As much as I love Enzo, I want to do this myself.”

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