Page 142 of Wicked Rivals

When I got to the kitchen, Stefano sat alone at the island, eating the last orange spice cookie while staring at his phone.

“Where’s my son?” I asked.

Stefano stood. “Our son… is getting gun safety training.”

I heaved a shaky sigh.

“Why are you teaching a nine-year-old to play with guns?”

“I'm teaching a nine-year-old to never playwith weapons and making sure he understands why. I planned to make him wait until he turned thirteen, same as me. But after all that’s happened, I can see he’s stubborn enough to find a gun himself and try to figure it out on his own. Training him now is safer.”

“You could just tell him no.”

Boss man arched an eyebrow.

“That word means very little to him. I don’t know if that’s on you or him, but it needs to be addressed. I told him no when he wanted to help me find you. I told him no when he wanted to enter that house with me. I told him to stay in the car. And do you know what your son did?”

I hooked my hands on my hips.

“Oh, so now he’s only my son?”

Stefano fixed me with an unamused gaze.

“Come here to me.”

Then he lifted me and sat my ass on the countertop. His hands came down flat on either side of me, caging me in, all the while holding my gaze with his.

“Enzo told me if I wanted to stop him from going into that house, I would have to shoot him first. Then he smashed the car door into my leg and ran past me like a lunatic.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

Enzo had always been so smart. Along with his intelligence came an unwavering concept of right and wrong. He always did what he thought was right, consequences be damned.

With a shrug, Stefano stepped back.

“So he’ll learn the basics of gun safety now.”

I sighed and dipped my head.

“The boy must learn to be more obedient, Val,” he added. “Gun safety alone isn’t enough.”

If this were any other day, I would have argued with him, but I just didn’t have the energy to fight with this man, so I nodded. He was probably right anyway.

“Good. We’ll work on it together. Now why are you out of bed?” he asked.

“I wanted to see Enzo and I desperately needed some water and I’m starving.”

Stefano went to the pantry, calling out over his shoulder.

“You’re hungry… that’s a good sign. What would you like?”

I stared at his back, wondering if he actually knew his way around the kitchen as he stood halfway inside the pantry.

“You’re going to cook for me?” I asked.

He came back with takeout menus and flashed a wide grin.

A devilishly handsome grin.

---