Page 75 of Beauty and the Daddy
Then she drops it, soft as a pebble in a pond: "Are you excited to be my new mom?"
The question hits me like a freight train. I freeze with my throat suddenly tight.
"I..." What do I say? That I'm terrified? That I never signed up to be anyone's mother, let alone a step-mother to the daughter of New York's most dangerous criminal? That I'm already pregnant with her sibling and haven't told anyone? "I'm excited to get to know you better."
Nice dodge, Belle.
"It's okay if you're scared," she says. "I was scared of Bruno when Daddy first got him, but now he's my best friend."
I laugh, but it comes out watery. "You're a pretty smart kid, you know that?"
"That's what Daddy always says."
We slide the cookies into the oven, and I set the timer. Sofia hops down from her stool and starts licking the wooden spoon, getting cookie dough all over her face.
"So, is that a yes?" she asks, her voice muffled by the spoon.
"Is what a yes?"
"Are you excited to be my mom?"
I look at this perfect little human, with her big eyes and chocolate-smeared cheeks, and something inside me just... breaks open. Like a dam cracking, letting loose a flood I didn't know was there.
"Yeah," I say softly. "I think I am."
She beams at me, then frowns suddenly, looking past me. "Uh-oh."
I turn to find Meatball, that orange menace, creeping along the counter toward the second tray of unbaked cookies.
"Meatball, no!"
Too late. He pounces, landing right in the middle of the cookie tray, sending dough flying everywhere. I lunge for him, but he's already sprinting across the counter, knocking over the flour canister in his escape.
A cloud of white explodes into the air.
"Get him!" Sofia shrieks with delight.
Meatball leaps from the counter to the floor, trailing paw prints of flour and cookie dough. He streaks past one of Luca's bodyguards who's just entered the kitchen.
The man—a mountain in a suit—makes the fatal mistake of trying to grab Meatball.
My cat, who has the personality of a chainsaw with fur, responds by climbing the guy like a tree, using his claws.
The bodyguard howls, spinning like a top, trying to detach the angry feline from his torso.
"Sorry! He doesn't like being grabbed!" I shout, running after them.
Sofia's doubled over laughing, which sets Bruno off. The Great Dane comes thundering into the kitchen, barking excitedly at the chaos.
He skids on the flour-covered floor, crashes into the bodyguard's legs, and sends the poor guy sprawling.
Meatball, now free, darts under the table.
"Get the cat!" I yell to Sofia, who drops to her hands and knees.
"He went that way!" She crawls after him.
Bruno, thinking this is the best game ever invented, bounds after Sofia. He knocks over a chair in his enthusiasm.
