Page 83 of Creed

“Did you know that Morales and your father have a connection?”

“No.” She frowns. “They’d be similar ages, but Manuel Morales wasn’t from my home community. Not that I knew of.”

“Yet he’s a huge benefactor and makes big donations there,” I say. It might be a way to clean dirty money. “Has he always?”

She chews her lip. “I’m not sure. But he has really stepped up his game in the past five years, especially with the churches and groups with a youth focus.”

Reaching over, I press my thumb to her bottom lip, pulling it free from her teeth. “That’s mine to bite,” I say quietly, biting back my smug smile when she shifts in her seat and rubsher thighs together again. Her physical reaction to me and my dominance provides endless satisfaction; however, I know her lip-biting right now is because she’s overwhelmed.

She’s understandably upset by the ordeal she’s been through, likely rattled that she and I are starting up again, and more than a little nervous that we’re headed to my family.

I thread our fingers together and lift our hands to kiss her knuckles. Sensing she needs quiet right now, I don’t push her to talk as we drive through the city.

As we approach my family's estate, we drive through Presidio Heights. The tree-lined streets offer a scenic view of the Tudor and Victorian-style houses.

Sophie watches intently out the window as Gabriele keeps driving. My family’s estate was several properties bought together by my great-grandfather, who built a gated, setback mansion on expansive, landscaped grounds. Sophie’s eyes are huge as we pull through the guarded high gate—the security measures, the guards, and the sheer size and richness of the place are a lot to process.

As the house comes into view, she turns to me, her throat bobbing and her eyes panicked. “I can’t do this, Creed. It’s too much.”

The wealth, the security… It will remind her who and what my family is, shoving that in her face.

Gabriele parks in front of the house, and he and Andro slip out of the vehicle silently.

I cup her chin. “Look at me, angel. Breathe.” I take a deep breath, which she mimics. “It’s just a house, just a yard. And they’re just people.”

“But they’re…”

“They’re my family. That’s all. Just start there. They’re Gina and Tommaso Santoro, Creed’s mom and dad. Massimo and Vito are my brothers. That’s it.”

“But my family… They’ll…”

I lean over, pressing my lips to hers softly. “We’ll figure it out, Soph. I promise. You’ll have meandyour family.”

She kisses me back, then leans her forehead against mine. “What if your family hates me? I’m nothing like the woman they probably hoped you’d marry. I’m not an heiress or some fancy bitch.”

I laugh, taken aback. She rarely curses unless I’m denying her orgasms—then she has the mouth of a sailor. Her reference to marriage also takes me aback and makes me want to do backflips that her mind is pushing toward that track already.

“They could never hate you because you’re the woman who has my heart.” I kiss her forehead. “Forever and ever. Amen.”

She keeps my lips pressed to her forehead as she holds my face tenderly, her thumbs resting on my pulse points.

“Let me come open your door,” I say huskily, then get out and move around to her side of the car. She slips her hand into mine, reminding me how everything about her fits perfectly with me.

My family will know we’re here and will be waiting inside. I’m thankful they didn’t rush out, giving Sophie time to get her bearings.

Climbing the steps to the front door, I open it, keeping her close to my side as we enter. As I suspected, my family is waiting.

Mammatakes one look at Sophie, then at me, and her hands fly to her mouth as her eyes fill with tears. “Mio dolce bambino. Il tuo amore per mio figlio è così evidente e vero. Come il suo per te.”

“English,Mamma,” I remind.

“It’s okay, Creed.” Sophie looks up at me, then back toMamma. “I understood ‘my sweet child’ and ‘your love for my son.’ I could understand the ‘evident,’ but I lost the rest, I’m afraid. I might be able to catch it if you repeat it slower.”

“You’ve been learning Italian?” I ask Sophie in shock.

“A bit.” She blushes and shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal. “There are a lot of similarities with Spanish.”

But it is a huge deal to me. And toMamma,because she bursts into tears and gathers Sophie close, wrapping her up tight.

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