Page 36 of Beauty and the Daddy
That goddamn goofball of a Great Dane meets me nose-first.
Bruno's slobbering all over, with that face like a horse fell in love with a teddy bear.
His huge head tilts as he licks my cheeks, then decides I pass the vibe check and leans his full trust-fund weight into my shins.
"Whoa there, buddy, we've got to stop meeting like this."
I plant a hand on the doorframe because being taken out by a dog before coffee is not how I want my obituary to read.
The little girl next to him beams up at me.
She's small, maybe around six, and has her hair in two dark buns like a superhero on recess.
She's also missing one front tooth, and her smile could get the toughest man on the planet to promise her whatever she wants.
"Hi," she whispers shyly. "I'm Sofia. This is Bruno. We were bored, so we are going on a mission."
"A mission, huh?" I ask, wondering what the hell's going on. Who is this kid?
"Daddy says you're gonna be my new mommy." She says it like she's announcing the weather, matter-of-fact and vaguely suspicious. "But Ms. Greta said that's only if you survive the honey moon."
My brain short-circuits. "The honeymoon?"
"Yeah. She was on the phone and said 'if that poor girl survives the honeymoon with the Beast, she'll deserve a medal.'"
Sofia attempts air quotes, her tiny fingers not quite getting it right.
"What's a honey moon? And why wouldn't you survive it? Are there bears?"
My heart misfires.
Her daddy… WHAT?
Holy shit on a stick.
Luca has a kid.
My fiancé has a kid.
Mafia Don just went all dad-mode on me, and I am so not prepared.
"Sofia?" Luca's voice floats down the hallway, soft and gentle.
Something in me melts at the adoration in his voice. Emotional whiplash is my new full-time job.
I step fully into the hall, just to make sure it's the Beast of New York I hear doing that full-fledged dad voice.
Yuuup… it's him alright.
Luca comes into view in a soft gray henley and black joggers, sleeves shoved up, forearms tanned and corded.
He looks… casual. Like he slept. Like he's human.
His face is unshaven, hair mussed in a way that would make a stylist weep, and there's a careful gentleness in his eyes I haven't seen since he spread me open with his?—
Abort. Kid present. Brain off, Belle.
"Belle," he says. "You're awake."
