Page 76 of Thiago
Benicio pulled her flush against his body, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his cheek against her bosom. He held her tight, as if he’d never let her go again.
Finally, they broke apart, and she helped Benicio to his feet. He grunted as he stood, and she laughed softly.
“I am not as young as I used to be.”
“Neither am I, but that’s okay. We’ll grow old together the way we planned from the beginning.”
“With all our aches and pains.”
“And wrinkles,” Rose added.
Benicio sobered. “And laughter. Good times and bad times, and everything in between.”
They held hands and gazed into each other’s eyes.
“Does this mean I’m officially off the market now that we’re engaged?” Rose asked.
“Absolutely.”
“When do you want to tell the kids?”
Benicio was quiet for a moment. “After Monica and Andre are married.”
Rose nodded her agreement. “Good idea.”
“Mi bella esposa,” Benicio whispered reverently.
Rose raised onto her toes and kissed his lips. “Not yet.”
His mouth curved in a slow, dangerous smile of promise. “Soon,” he said, his voice husky. “Very soon.”
Chapter Thirty
Someone was pounding on the bedroom door, disturbing Thiago from a fitful night of rest.
“Who is that?” India asked, her voice thick with sleep.
“I don’t know,” he grumbled, rolling away from her soft body to squint at the door in the darkness. “Yes?”
His housekeeper’s muffled voice came from the hall. “Mr. Santana, your mother is downstairs in the foyer.”
“Your mother?” Hugging the linens against her chest, India pushed onto one elbow.
“Remember I told you she was coming to see Bruno’s baby and help Marissa? She flew in a few days ago, but I don’t know why she is here at this time of night.”
When Bruno had told him their mother was on the way, Thiago had wished him good luck and said he’d say a prayer for him and his wife’s sanity. Marissa delivered a healthy baby boy in the wee hours of Sunday morning. Thiago had already seen photos of his nephew, fast asleep against his brother’s chest, with a shockingly full head of hair. He planned to see his nephew in person in a few days but wanted Bruno and Marissa to get settled first before he went to the house.
Picking up his phone from the bedside table, he saw the time was ten after one in the morning. Groaning inwardly, he fell back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. His mother’s presence at this hour could not be good.
“Take her to the den and tell her I will be right there,” he called out to his housekeeper.
“Yes, sir.”
Reluctantly, Thiago rolled out of bed, and India sat up to watch him get dressed in the dark.
“Something must be very wrong for her to be here at this time of night,” she guessed.
“My mother is dramatic, and trouble follows her wherever she goes. The question is, did she cause the problem, or did someone else? One can never tell with her,” he added dryly.
