Page 68 of Sweetest Sin
I pull out my phone and text my guys, letting them know what I need, and George responds that it will be done before we get home.
When my father cleared the land years ago to build the house, my mom insisted he keep an old tree in the back for shade. She said he was pissed, that he told her it would ruin the aesthetic, but she put her foot down, and the tree stayed.
We were never allowed to play as kids, but when we wanted to get away from our father, Matteo and I would climb the tree and hide out. And I always thought it would be the perfect tree to hold a swing.
“Let’s go to dinner,” I tell them. “And when we get home, I’ll take you to the tree, and your mom can read us the book while you swing from it.”
I wink at Damien, and he squeals in delight. And fuck if my heart isn’t full. My entire life has been filled with so much damn darkness, but only a day with these two, and it’s already so much brighter.
“Mommy!Daddy! It’s The Giving Tree!” Damien yells as he runs toward the large tree in the back of the property, which now houses a brand-new tire swing and wooden steps leading up to the separation in the trunk, where Matteo and I used to sit and talk for hours.
“I can’t believe you did this,” Peyton says, smiling at me. “Thank you. This is …” She shakes her head, and her eyes fill with tears.
“What you both deserve,” I tell her.
Damien goes straight for the steps first, and without issue, he clambers up the rungs and then turns around and leans against the thick branch. He’s only a few feet up in the air, but George let me know he’s having playground grass installed tomorrow, so if Damien were to fall, it would reduce the chance of him breaking something.
“Mommy, look at me!” Damien yells with a smile spread across his face. “I’m in The Giving Tree!”
“I see that,” Peyton says, walking over to him.
Damien looks around for a few seconds, and then he comes down and goes over to the tire swing. It’s low enough for him to get onto himself, so I let him do it. Once he’s sitting and holding on, I walk up behind him and push him gently.
He giggles in excitement, and Peyton grins. In this moment, I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them both safe and happy.
I meant what I told her. I’ll burn this city to the ground and go after anyone who threatens my family, starting with Anthony Rothschild. He’d better enjoy his time on this earth because it’s limited.
“And who is this?”
My mom comes strolling into the living room, her face full of makeup, her hair perfectly styled, dressed in a black-and-gold pantsuit. The woman is in her early fifties, but doesn’t look a day over forty, thanks to Botox and the best plastic surgeons in South Florida.
She spots Peyton first, but before I can explain—she hasn’t been home, and I didn’t want to tell her she’s a grandmother over the phone—Damien comes running out of the kitchen with a cookie in each hand, no doubt courtesy of Martha, who has taken great joy in spoiling him.
“I got two cookies, Daddy!” He giggles, holding up the cookies for me to see. “I share with you.”
He hands me a cookie, and I take it from him with a smile.
“Thank you, buddy.” I take a bite of the cookie and glance at my mom, whose mouth is parted in shock.
“Did he … just call you …”
“Mother,” I say, bringing Damien over to me, “I’d like for you to meet your grandson. Damien, this is your grandmother.”
“I already got a grandma,” Damien says. “She’s in heaven. Right, Mommy?”
Peyton comes over and kneels in front of Damien. “Grandma is in heaven. But she was my mommy. This grandma is Daddy’s mommy.”
“Oh my goodness,” my mother says. “Dominick, he looks just like you, the same gray eyes … only with red hair.”
“That’s because of me,” Peyton says with an awkward laugh and stands. “Apparently, my Scottish genes run strong.”
“Mother, this is Peyton, Damien’s mom.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Peyton says softly.
I’m sure she’s nervous because her meeting with Brielle didn’t go over too well.
I explained to Peyton that my sister is protective and she’ll come around. She’s just fighting her own demons.
