Page 127 of Hot Momosa

Dahlia

“Hurry up. It’s starting.”I curled up on the massive couch and turned on the television.

We’d arrived at the Marchionni’s ancestral home in Sicily four days before Christmas. The FBI and local authorities weren’t pleased we’d left New Orleans. It’s not like we were accused of a crime, but it’d taken Leo and my father insisting we’d told them everything we knew—and threatening to complain to the media—before the authorities had backed off.

“I’m here.” Leo came in from the heated pool. Between the view of the Mediterranean behind him and the water running over the peaks and valleys of his abs, he looked like a mythical sea god.

He leaned in and dripped on me, but I couldn’t bring my self to care when he slanted his mouth over mine and kissed me like he hadn’t seen me in years. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now.” I traced the hard edge of his jaw. “I wish I could swim with you.”

“Not until the stitches are out. Is the wound healing?” Rather than lifting my shirt from the bottom, he peeked in the top.

Evelyn walked into the room. “Leonardo Andrea Marchionni, there will be plenty of time for that after the wedding. Go dry off—you’re making a puddle on the tile.”

“Be right back.” Leo winked and jogged upstairs.

Sitting down beside me, Maggie whispered, “She’ll let up once you’re married.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable touching him in front of his parents.” I skimmed through the channels, looking for the American news.

Gabe seated himself at his wife’s feet. “Mags used to say the same thing. Now I can’t keep her hands off of me regardless of who’s in the room.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think you have that backward.”

“I’m serious. She felt me up in church yesterday, in front of God and the priest.”

Maggie tugged his hair. “That’s enough out of you.”

“Where are the kids?” I’d barely seen the older three since we’d arrived. They mostly hung out on the beach with their nanny. Rocco and Ella preferred the swimming pool and playing with Gunnar inside.

“Napping, thank goodness,” Maggie said. “Where are your parents?”

“Mom went shopping and Dad will be down soon.” I couldn’t help but smile. Rather than missing Christmas with me and Gunnar, my mom and dad had accompanied us to Sicily. Of course, they were all too happy to leave the United States for a couple of weeks to avoid the press.

Maggie lowered her voice. “It’s weird they’re getting along so well…all things considered.”

“I think they can remain friends during the divorce because they were never really in love.” I had mixed feelings about my parents’ weird relationship. Once my father had admitted to his long-term affair with Robert, he and my mother had agreed to share a house as roommates. I didn’t get it, but they actually seemed happy with their new arrangement.

Gabe turned to me. “Does he miss politics?”

“Not even a little.” I grinned. “But he’s not happy about moving out of the governor’s mansion.”

Maggie sighed. “I still don’t understand why he gave up the governorship.”

“Me either, but he seems like a different person now that he’s retired.” I never would have thought my dad would leave public service, but I supported his decision. Most of all, I was happy to have a relationship with him without Robert Becker in the middle.

“Did we miss the press conference?” Marco walked downstairs holding Nico’s hand.

“Not yet.” I found the channel, but a toilet paper commercial filled the screen.

“Prince Charmin!” Gunnar pointed at the TV. “Look, Papa Joe. Look.”

Leo’s father laughed. “I like the bears, but I don’t see a prince.”

“No bears.” He waved his hand at the image of Harrison on the screen.

Plopping down beside me, Leo leaned close and whispered, “Is it me or does Gunnar have a freakishly good memory?”

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