Page 12 of The Mafia King's Stolen Fiancée

He looked back at me over his shoulder. “Oui?”

“Hold on a second,” I ordered before turning toward Vivienne. “Eat,” I told her quietly before I stood and walked over to speak with Aston. I lowered my voice and asked, “You spoke with Charles?”

He nodded. “They’re retrieving the information as we speak.”

“Good. We’ll talk about the other problem tomorrow, but I want the manifest for the shipment from Artcurial as soon as you get it from Charles. I’ll look it over when I get a chance, then when we meet tomorrow, we’ll discuss which paintings to swap and send our list to Nic.”

Aston and his brother, Charles, were French, but they’d been born into the Family. Their grandfather, Aimé, had been best friends with Francisco DeLuca. They’d gone to boarding school together, and when Francisco took over as boss, he and Aimé worked together to smuggle art and antiquities in and out of France.

The brothers had taken over the operation from their father, but Aston was also one of the best art forgers in the world. Eventually, Nic had talked Aston into moving to Georgia and working directly with me, leaving Charles in charge of the operations in France.

Aston managed our largest art gallery and museum in Atlanta, but his studio and home were here in Camillia Falls. From the smattering of paint I spotted on his clothes, I assumed he’d come straight from his easel. Whatever the problem with the painting, it clearly wasn’t critical. But the situation with Charles had a clock on it. He’d called me a week ago to tell me that the Artcurial auction house in Paris was sending a very valuable batch of paintings to the States in three months. They were set to be displayed in a special exhibit at The Met.

Since port fees in the South were a fuck of a lot more reasonable than in the Northeast, a lot of businesses brought their cargo down here, then had it distributed through other means. With art, they usually hired a moving company who specialized in transporting all types of art—specifically, pieces valued in the million dollars or more category—to get the pieces to their final destination.

I’d been waiting on Charles’s retrieval specialist to acquire a list of paintings so that Aston would have as much time as possible to create replicas. With each passing day, the number of paintings we’d be able to replace dwindled. There was also the option to simply boost the paintings, but replacing them with forgeries meant less spotlight on the heist if it was eventually discovered.

Aston glanced behind me briefly, then asked, “How should I let you know when I’ve uploaded it to the server?”

“Send a text.” I waved toward the door and added, “But tell Domenico on your way out that he should make it clear to everyone that I’m unavailable for the next several hours.Unless it's an emergency, I am not to be disturbed. Anything less than that and they’ll be on my shit list, so they better think real fucking hard about what constitutes an emergency before coming to me. Understood?”

“Oui,” Aston murmured before he strolled out of the kitchen.

Vivienne was nibbling on a pastry when I returned to the table and took the seat next to her.

I frowned when I realized she hadn’t taken a single bite of anything else on her plate. Taking the cornetto from her hand, I set it down, then picked up an S-shaped cookie. “These are Burano'sessi,” I informed her as I dunked the biscotti in her cappuccino. “They come from the Venetian Island, Burano, and are my absolute favorite.” I held it up to her lips. “Eat,cara.”

She dutifully opened her mouth and took a bite of the cookie. Her eyes closed, and she made a sexy little sound of pleasure when she tasted the sweet flavor.

Fuck. If she kept that up, it wouldn’t be long before I lost control, tossed her on the table, and found out if those were the same moans she made when she climaxed.

“Wow, Carmen,” Vivienne sighed as her eyes reopened. “Those are amazing.”

Carmen winked at her as she took a sip of her own coffee. “Thank you,bellissima. My family comes from Burano, and every girl, and some of the boys, are taught to makeessiandBussola—which are basically the same thing, except they are shaped like a donut—from the moment we are old enough to bake.”

I chuckled and dunked the cookie again before holding it up for Vivienne to take another bite. “I had no idea how lucky we were to have them all the time until Carmen went home for a two-month visit when I was eight. After we ate her last batch, I asked mymammato take me to the store to buy more. I knew they wouldn’t be as good as Carmen’s, but I figured it was betterthan nothing. And I was right. Because nothing was what we came home with.”

“Ah yes, Giulia called and told me about the epic tantrum, and from then on, I made sure to make several batches before I left for any extended trips.”

I scowled and grunted, “I didn’t have tantrums, Carmen.Mammawas clearly exaggerating.”

Vivienne giggled when Carmen snorted before taking another swallow from her mug.

“I’ll leave you two to enjoy breakfast,” Carmen announced with a bright smile before striding out of the kitchen.

When I attempted to feed my angel again, she shook her head and sighed. “As much as I’d like to devour every bite of this amazing breakfast, it’s a lot of calories.”

I blinked a few times, then shook my head, convinced I must have heard her wrong. “Pardon?”

Vivienne’s cheeks pinkened, and she shifted nervously in her seat. “I don’t want to overindulge.”

The way she said the wordoverindulgetold me more than she surely intended it to. Obviously, this was something she’d been told as a criticism. Bullshit spouted by a man who was secretly so insecure that he had to put others down in order to feel superior. My desire to remove his fingers, toes, and dick…one by one, in that order, was growing stronger every day.

I turned Vivienne’s chair to face me before lifting her out of it and settling her on my lap. “Cara, let me be very clear about something. You’re fucking gorgeous. Sexy as hell. But gaining a few pounds would only add to your beauty. Give you a glow that’s just a little healthier.”

Vivienne blushed and sighed. “That’s what my doctor said, too.”

My brow furrowed. “If your doctor wanted you to put on some weight, why are you watching your calories?”

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