Madonna Saint Elise POVShrugging, I laugh so softly that I barely even hear it. “I don’t need much to make me happy. You and maybe a Tootsie Pop or some chocolate.”His grin extends, carving into his cheeks as his eyes stay steady on mine. “I’m going to give you the world, Madonna Saint Elise. I’ll buy you a whole candy shop just to see your smile.”“It’s not for me that I want it.” Too subtle?A roguish grin takes over, and his hands lower to my hips, pulling me on top of him. He’s already hard when he shifts my hips forward and back again over his length. “I’m going to spoil you rotten, my love.”The teasing gets the better of me, and I finally kiss him, briefly losing myself in the headiness of being together again. “Good thing I love to be spoiled.” Slipping lower, I take hold of his erection and add, “But I want to go first.” I spoil him with every ounce of my being, making love and making him come so hard, first with my mouth and then with my body. I take every inch of him and
Reaching over, she touches the top of my hand. “I know. I appreciate it.” She glances out the glass doors, watching Cullen and Joemar on the terrace, and says, “I used to drink on race days.” When her eyes return to mine, her expression falls. “I struggled to let go of the image of the family I imagined I should have.”How does she see this going? I glance back at Joemar, silently worrying I’m crossing a line I shouldn’t without him. “That can be hard to reconcile.”“Don’t worry, it was reconciled a long time ago. Joemar and I are oil and water. Things are how they should be.” She leans in and whispers, “I’m so glad he found you. You saved his life.”This time I open my mouth, but then close it, thinking about what she said. I always thought he saved me, like on the red carpet. But when I look back over my shoulder, I think she might be right. Joemar didn’t care about anything but Cullen and his career.Now he has a life.I cross the imaginary line and give her a hug. She hesitates at
Alyssa Russo’s POVI have no idea what to do with this change.Having Alessandro de Rossi in the mansion is worse than being here alone.I feel like I’m living with a tiger.When he’s around, the air is different. It’s charged, like before a storm. I know that I’m not the only person who feels it, because the staff moves differently around Brady.For one, people appear out of the woodwork to do his bidding. I had no idea that the estate had a garden staff, for example, until Alessandro appeared on the scene.The trees outside have never looked better.I have a feeling that the entire estate isn’t on the beach, as I had previously thought, but somewhere inland. Florida is a mess of bogs and muggy little spots that no one can find you, and the people who work for families like mine know this very well.There’s more than one body buried in the belly of a gator, that’s for sure.It’s been about a week since Alessandro appeared, and I’ve settled into another routine. Mostly, it involves av
Alessandro de Rossi POV I have never put too much thought into being a father. I assumed it was something that would happen with the natural progression of time. Truthfully, I don’t know anything about children. Few of the men who work for me have children yet, and if they do, they keep their families far from their work. In theory, I always knew that I would have to produce children, but in actuality, I have never pursued this.Not with anyone except…The memory of Alyssa, Alyssa, beneath the trees at our engagement party, flashes in my mind.We didn’t use protection. Catherine had been a virgin, and the odds of her getting pregnant on her very first time felt so incredibly low as to be negligible. I shut my eyes and remembered how she had smiled at me.How she had said if she did have a child with me, she would be happy that they would grow up surrounded by so much family.How my world would be their nanny, and how they would be so loved.Does my daughter know that she has a father?
By the time we touchdown somewhere outside of Newark, my heart is in my throat, and I regret all of the chicken that I managed to stomach earlier.What if something happened to her?I’m sure that Alessandro has been talking to Nico, the man on the phone who is clearly his highest ranking guy on the ground. I’m desperate to know what he’s found.Whether or not it’s Anne and Nonna Mia who live on the burned down farm.The plane finally stops on the runway, and the engines are powering down when I see two big black cars drive up.One of their doors opens.And a familiar small shape emerges.I don’t care about anything else at that point. I move like a robot, my body making decisions that I am not consciously aware of.The stairs aren’t even fully descended when I’m on them. My feet hit the pavement, the chill of New Jersey biting into my skin, and I run to my child.Anne’s eyes, that look so much like Brady’s light up. “Mommy!”“My baby,” I gasp. I kneel down and she’s running for me too
She’s like a mongoose or a honey badger. She likes to dance and tease, and she’s deadly, but she’s never angry with what she does. Nothing seems to slip underneath her playful façade, even though there’s a predator underneath.Amara is angry now.“Amara…”She holds up a hand. “Your funeral, brother.”Then, she walks over to Alyssa.The rest of the flight, she and Alyssa talk. They look at Anne, they help her to the bathroom. They give her snacks and make her laugh. When Anne laughs, sounds more pure than the clearest of bells.It’s adorable.My daughter.She looks like me. Well, specifically, she looks like Amara, who I have memories of at that age. Her hair is long and curly, tamed into a braid by my sister and Alyssa. Her eyes look like Amara’s, but where Amara’s have always been full of mischief.Her childhood has been good. I just know it.Alyssa has done a wonderful job with her.As the flight progresses, I realize there’s truth to Amara’s words. I need to figure out my place in
A woman in a housekeeper’s uniform sprints out of the house. She looks to be somewhere in the late 60s, early 70s range, but I could have no idea. There’s a smile on her face that’s a mile wide, and I can’t help but return it.She’s babbling in Italian a mile a minute as she runs (actually runs) down to where Anne and I are standing. My Italian being what it is, I only get about every fourth word, but from what I gather, she’s the housekeeper that’s been with the de Rossi kids for a long time, and she’s beyond thrilled to have Anne here.“Um. Thank you?”Her bright green eyes turn to me, and her face wrinkles into an even bigger smile. I stand stock still as she grabs my face and layers even more kisses on my cheeks.Continuing to pour rapid fire Italian on me, she grabs me by the elbow and drags me into the house.Meekly, I follow.She may not be related to Alessandro and Amara, but in my heart, I know that being welcome like that can’t be a bad thing.Maybe I’ll have an ally to find
The endearment slips out. I can’t help it. Alyssa gives me a look that could cut glass, but I ignore it. Bambina isn’t an endearment that’s specific to fathers and children. Francesca called Anne Bambina just earlier, so I don’t feel too bad about it.Alyssa huffs, clearly upset.If you give me something, I’ll give you something. I silently will her to remember our arrangement. If she grants me this ability to use a tiny endearment on my own child, then I will give her something she wants. I do not know what that is. But if she grants me this, I will also grant her something.Alyssa seems to consider me. Her eyes are narrow with suspicion, and I pretend not to care.Anne is eating the cornetti, staring at the two of us.“April thirteenth.”The words are so quiet, it takes me nearly a minute to process that they were meant for me. “Pardon?” I look at Alyssa.“Her birthday. April thirteenth.”I blink. “That is so close.”“Yes, I’ll be six!” Anne chimes in, holding up six Nutella-covered