Page 32 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

Considering where we found them hiding, I was sure he was right. “Boy probably spent every day at the beach, and now he’s missing it.”

“Where did you find her?” My father asked.

There was no question about who we were talking about. “Favignana.”

“Your mother’s hometown?” Surprised etched on his face while I nodded in confirmation. I didn’t think it was a coincidence. Grace spent quite a bit of time talking with my father during our short marriage. He often spoke of his time in his hometown and my mother. “Was Matteo born there?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know.” He watched me pensively, and I wondered what went through his mind. Usually, my father and I were in sync, but when it came to Grace, our wires always got crossed.

“Lei resta qui. Davvero, mio figlio?”She will stay here. True, my son?Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that my father still wanted Grace to remain. I thought she’d fall out of his graces, but my father had a permanent soft spot for my wife. And now her son.

“Più.” The little boy demanded, giving me time to answer my father. He was certainly bossy. He opened his mouth and waited for his brioche. Hopefully we finish this breakfast before Grace wakes up. Content he got his food, Matteo reached over closer to me, and I watched, curious what he was doing.

“Ouch.” Little schmuck pulled my nipple.

The kid gave me a grin and murmured, “Latte.”

My father burst into booming laughter, shortly followed by Massimo and Maria. I grinned too, hearing my father laugh making me happy.

“Sorry, buddy,” I told Matteo. “I don’t have any of that shit there. But Maria will get your milk from the refrigerator.”

She was already pouring milk into a plastic sippy cup. I could see her back shaking with the laughter she was trying to hold back. Glad someone was having fun at my expense. Anywhere else, I’d shoot the fuckers down. But I guess I’d allow it in the kitchen.

She brought milk over to him.

“Here you go, little guy.” She placed the sippy cup in front of him. It would seem it didn’t take her long to buy all the stuff a kid needs.

“Grazie.” I had to give it to Grace, the boy had manners.

“Maria, thank you for getting all the stuff we need for Matteo.”

“No problem. It is nice having little ones in the house again.”

I flinched. Maria has been with us since my sister and I were children. Glancing at my father, I didn’t see the usual soul shattering sorrow on his face. Instead, there was hope edged in his wrinkles.

“Yes, she will stay, Dad,” I answered my father’s earlier question in Italian. I didn’t know how I would keep Grace with us, but I’d find a way. If I had to chain her to this house, I’d ensure she remained in this household for as long as my father lived. And if I had to get rid of Matteo’s father... Fuck it, I would. Everybody had a price.

The next few minutes we all sat in silence. Matteo drank his milk, his eyes slightly droopy, like he was getting tired. His fingers wrapped around my finger, his hand resting against the palm of my hand. My father was content just watching Matteo. Massimo was focused on his phone. And I… Fuck, I wasn’t sure what I felt or where I stood.

“Matteo,” Grace’s panicked voice traveled across the house. He didn’t hear her, his head slowly shifting towards me, dropping over onto my shoulder.

“I’ll go tell her he’s here,” Maria whispered in a low tone and rushed out of the kitchen. She didn’t want to stir up Matteo, who was falling asleep. Less than twelve hours and this little boy had my staff wrapped around his finger.

Maria came back with Grace, and her eyes immediately went to her son. She looked fucking gorgeous in a black tank top and baggy silky pajama bottoms that sat low on her hips, exposing skin on her lower belly. My cock immediately jolted to attention. My wife has had that effect on me from the moment I saw her in my nightclub. You’d think it would ease up, but it had only gotten worse.

I watched relief cross her face at seeing Matteo and turn into a soft smile. “Is he falling asleep?”

I nodded at the same time that my father replied, “Sì.”

“Sit down, Grace. I’ll get you some coffee,” Maria offered.

“Um, I can-”

“No, you sit down. I remember how you like your coffee.”

Grace tensed slightly at the reference of our past, but my father wouldn’t let her retreat. “Here, sit with me Gracy.”

He patted an empty seat between Matteo and himself. Her gaze darted to her son who was now soundly asleep, against my arm. Then her eyes traveled over me, and I watched her pale, delicate throat move as she swallowed hard. Her gaze was stuck on my chest, lingering over my tattoos. The tattoos always fascinated her. She wouldn’t meet my eyes, her cheeks blushing light pink.

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