Page 88 of The Temptation
Romeo
Ikill the light in the main room and move to the window. With one finger, I ease the curtain back just enough to get a clean view of the front porch.
I’m not really sure who I expected to see standing there, but it sure as hell wasn’t my head enforcer, Dominic ‘Dead End’ Rizzo.
What the fuck is he doing here, unannounced? I told him, explicitly, not to come back unless I invited him myself.
If I find out Lucia and he have been communicating behind my back, I’m going to lose my shit.
My gun is still clutched tightly in my hand as I stalk to the front door and throw it open. “What the fuck,” I growl.
Dominic flinches, then jerks his head towards the ground beside him. That’s when I see her, a tiny human with pigtails, clinging to his leg like a baby koala.
“She’s two, and at the age where she likes to repeat things,” he mutters.
“Who is that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
He glances down at the little girl again and fucking smiles. It’s an unsettling sight, like watching a wolf try to actcute. Smiling isn’t something you’d expect from a scary-looking meathead like him.
“This is Lil’ Peach,” he answers.
“Lil’ Peach?” I echo. “You have a kid, and you named her Peach?”
He frowns. No surprise there; this man frowns as if it’s a full-time job. But there’s something different about this one. Deeper. Sharper. More menacing. It’s as if my question personally offended him.
“There’s nothing wrong with her name,” he mutters. “And technically, she’s my sister’s kid. But since she’s an addict, I’ve pretty much been her caregiver since birth.”
His words hit harder than I expected, and I actually reel back a little. If anyone knows what that kind of situation feels like, it’s me. But before I can come up with a response, Lucia appears at my side.
“I told you to lock yourself in the bedroom,” I growl. “And to stay put! To not come out under any circumstances. Yet here you are.”
She lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I was going to do as you asked, but then I changed my mind. What if you needed backup?”
This woman is going to be the death of me.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath. Low enough that the kid named after a damn piece of fruit doesn’t hear me. Peach. Seriously?
What the hell was her mother on when she picked that? Did she have the munchies, or did she decide to head for the produce aisle in search of the ideal baby name?
Lucia shrugs again, like this is no big deal.
It’s a huge fucking deal.
“What if it had been Salvatori or one of his guys at the door?” Just thinking about that is enough to give me a damn aneurysm.
“Obviously, it wasn’t,” she says, breezy as hell. “So, stop stressing.” She turns her attention to our uninvited guests. “Hey, Dom,” she chirps, her voice all syrup and sunshine, before crouching to eye the kid. “And who is this little cutie pie?”
That damn smile crawls back onto Dom’s face, and honestly, it’s creeping me the hell out.
“Lucia, this is my niece, Lil’ Peach,” he says as he shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and stands taller, puffing out that ridiculous, massive chest of his, like he’s a proud father.
His eyes soften when they move down to the kid. “Remember those yummy cookies I brought home last week? Lucia made them.”
Peach’s big, brown eyes shift from her uncle to my wife, wide and curious, and something in my chest—something I thought was sealed up tight—splinters open.
“Did you like my cookies?” Lucia asks gently.
The kid nods and presses herself closer against Dominic’s leg like it’s the safest place in the world.
