“This is Sloane,” Elio says, tugging on my hand and dragging me down the hallway of Cristian’s friends’ house on Long Island. “She’s my new nanny, and she’s awesome at basketball.”
Cristian chuckles as we enter a large, homey kitchen that smells like every food lover’s dream. “Sloane is setting the benchmark high.”
Delicious aromas scent the air, and my stomach rumbles appreciatively, which is a miracle because I’ve felt ill all day thinking of how furious Pablo must be now he’s lost contact with me. My nerves are stretched tight, my chest a twisted mass of anxiety, and it has effectively slaughtered my appetite.
“That’s high praise indeed,” an older guy with white-blond hair says. He smiles and extends his hand. “I’m Fiero. This is my wife, Valentina, and our son, Armani.” His arm circles Valentina’s shoulders. She’s stunning with wavy black hair, piercing green eyes, and the most incredible flawless skin. A cute little dark-haired boy is propped on her hip, wriggling and trying to get down.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Sloane,” she says. “I’ve heard lots of wonderful things about you.”
“Here, I’ll take him.” Fiero reaches for the little guy, instantly setting him down on his feet.
“El, El,” he babbles, wobbling toward Elio on chubby legs.
“He’s walking! Look, Daddy!” Elio shrieks. “Armani can walk now.”
“I can see, buddy. It won’t be long before he’s shooting hoops with you.”
Elio hugs the little guy. “Good job, buddy,” he says, gently patting Armani on the head.
Valentina and I trade matching smiles. It’s too cute for words.
Cristian crouches down and holds up his hand. “Hey there, Armani.”
Armani emits a high-pitched screech, then a few babbles before softly slapping his hand against Cristian’s in a high five.
“He’s adorable,” I tell Valentina.
“He’s the best.” Her eyes radiate love and affection as she stares at her son. “We must be insane, but we’ll have another little bundle of joy in a few months.” She smooths a hand over her softly rounded tummy.
“Congratulations. You’ll have your hands full.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she says as the doorbell chimes. “Excuse me while I let our other guests in.” She walks off, heading out of the kitchen to answer the door.
Cristian explained in the car that Fiero’s youngest sister, Tullia, was joining us for dinner with her friend Rowan. Apparently, Rowan is the eldest son of Don Bennett Mazzone, who is husband to Sierra, the lady who gave me the essential oils. I’m grateful he’s not hiding things from me now, but it’s a lot to take in. Everyone seems to know one another, and they all seem close. It must be nice.
Cristian’s hand brushes discreetly against mine as if he’s read my mind and knows I’m a little out of my depth. “You’ll like them,” he says, attempting to reassure me with his eyes.
“They’re close to your age,” Fiero says, earning a daggered stare from Cristian. Fiero laughs, slapping him on the back as he keeps one eye on his son and Elio, who are tossing a soft ball back and forth. “Down, boy. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Fiero winks at me, and I fall into a little bit of a daze. He is superhot for an older dude, and I can see why Valentina fell for him. He oozes natural charm, and his personality seems fun. Clearly, his wife is much younger, and he was just trying to make me feel at ease. Not sure why Cristian feels threatened by what he said.
“Hey everyone.”
We all whip our heads around at the sound of the bubbly female voice.
“Lia. Come here and give your big brother a hug.” Fiero sports a wide grin as he walks toward the petite brunette.
“Ro. Missed you.” Tullia removes the camera from around her neck, passing it to Valentina, before throwing herself at Fiero and squeezing her arms around his broad back.
“Sup, little dudes,” a man with a deep, gravelly voice says, and I turn around to face the other new arrival.
Trying not to stare is challenging because he has a charismatic presence that is tangible. Rowan Mazzone is well over six feet tall with broad shoulders, a muscular physique, and a devilish glint in his big blue eyes. His dark hair is shorn tight at the sides and longer on top, and he has exquisite cheekbones and lush, full lips. He’s extremely good-looking, and I bet he knows it too. Hot guys my age tend to be cocky, bordering on arrogant, though it’s unfair to judge him before I’ve got to know him.
“Rowan!” Elio screeches, dropping the ball and running toward the man.
Rowan chuckles as he bends over, offering his arm to Elio, and they do one of those elaborate handshakes that isn’t really a handshake. Tattoos sneak out from under the cuffs of his shirt, covering his hands. More ink creeps up the side of one neck. He’s a seriously sexy guy, but he’s not in Cristian’s league.
Cristian exudes sexiness without trying or acknowledging it. Confidence and maturity set him apart from other men. Combined with his nurturing side and that underlying dark intensity he’s shown me, he is the definition of my perfect man. Strong, capable, caring, sexy, self-assured. He ticks all the boxes.
“Hi there.” Tullia lands in front of me, instantly pulling me into a hug. Her petite stature belies her fierceness as she squeezes me in a warm embrace. She steps back and smiles. “I’m Tullia, but friends call me Lia. It’s really good to meet you, Sloane.”
She’s super pretty with deep-blue eyes and dark hair pulled into a high ponytail. She’s not wearing much makeup, and she’s dressed casually in skinny ripped jeans and a lace-trimmed tank under a half-zipped hoodie. Black-and-white retro Nike sneakers adorn her small feet. Everything about her is fun and dainty, and I feel like an out-of-place, overdressed giant in my borrowed black dress and gold sandals. None of Sabina’s shoes fit comfortably, so I had to wear my wedding outfit shoes. “Good to meet you too.”
“You have exquisite bone structure,” she says, taking her camera back from her sister-in-law. “Mind if I take a pic?”
My brows climb to my hairline. This is a first. “Ugh, I guess so.”
“Not everyone likes getting their picture taken, Polly,” Rowan says, flashing me a dazzling smile. “I’m Rowan.”
“Sloane.” I extend my hand, and he clasps it in his much larger palm. “What’s up with Polly?” I inquire, letting my gaze bounce between them.
Tullia rolls her eyes, feigning indifference as Rowan raises my hand to his lips. “He thinks he’s funny. He started calling me Polly Pocket when we were kids, and he keeps it up ’cause he knows how much I freaking hate it.” Her lips pull into a tight line when Rowan presses a kiss to the back of my hand.
“Knock it off.” Cristian rips my hand out of Rowan’s and glares at the younger man.
“Dude, what’s your problem?”
“Behave, Mini Mazzone.” Fiero pins him in place with a pointed look.
“You can take my pic,” I blurt, purely to break the rising tension.
“Great.” Her infectious smile returns. “Let’s go outside. There’s too much testosterone in here.” She shoots Rowan an agitated look before looping her arm through mine and pulling me away from the brooding men.
“Lunch will be on the table in ten,” Valentina calls out after us as Tullia drags me out of the room.
“Don’t mind him,” she says as we walk through double French doors that lead out to a side patio. “Rowan is the biggest flirt. He just can’t help himself unless it’s me,” she adds with a sigh.
“Oh?” I ask, admiring the gorgeous grounds set across three levels. Various shrubs and flower beds are dotted around the property, the colors muted this time of year. Below us is an infinity pool with an adjoining pool house, and I spot a cute cottage on the lower level, facing toward the dock where a couple of high-end boats are moored.
Crime clearly pays well. It’s funny, but when I’m with these people, I never think of them as criminals. They’re some of the nicest, most welcoming people I’ve ever met. Yet I can’t deny at least some of what they have has come from illegal means. Cristian told me everyone runs legit businesses, and while they used to be a front for their mafia-run enterprises, they are successful in their own right these days.
It must be nice to have so much money you never have to worry.
“I’ve been in love with him forever, but he only sees me as a friend,” Tullia confides, steering me toward a small seated area with neat flower beds housing shrubs with pretty yellow and white flowering buds.
“That must suck.”
“It sure does. What’s worse is he’s been hooking up with my older sister on and off for years.”
My mouth hangs open, and my jaw trails the ground. “No way.”
“Yeppers.” Pain splays across her face. “I haven’t spoken to Sofia in years, and I’ve only recently patched things up with Rowan, though things are still a little strained.”
“Does your sister know how you feel?”
She nods before pointing toward the seat. “She’s known all along.”
I shake my head before sitting down. “I have no words.” What kind of sister would do that? I’m heartsick on Tullia’s behalf.
“She doesn’t even care about him, and he follows her around like a dog begging for scraps. It’s pathetic.”
“Sounds heartbreaking,” I say as she snaps a few pics.
“I’m used to living with the pain.”
“You should screw his brother. Give him a taste of his own medicine.”
She almost chokes on her tongue. “Rhys is only eleven.”
I cringe. “Shit, okay, definitely don’t do that.” I arch my head to the side. “Screw his best friend. Hell, screw all of them. Really mess with his head.”
Laughter tumbles from her mouth. “I like you. You talk a lot of sense.” She moves in closer, snapping away. “I wish I could, but they’re all like brothers to me. Just thinking about it gives me the ick.”
“Well, I hope you’re at least dating. Make him jealous, and he might see sense.”
“He’s never going to see me like that.” She shoves her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’m the opposite of the girls he picks and a pale imitation of my gorgeous older sister.”
“You’re so pretty,” I truthfully say. “And really friendly. Any guy would be lucky to date you. It’s his loss if he doesn’t see what’s right in front of him.”
She sits down beside me. “That’s sweet of you to say.”
“It’s the truth. You need to get out there and date, sister.”
“I’ve tried dating, but no one measures up to him. It’s hopeless.”
“Just have fun then. No-strings-attached one-night stands can do wonders for a girl.”
“Is that right?” Cristian asks in his familiar, deep, sexy voice.
My cheeks flush as he walks toward me, arching a brow. “I was speaking metaphorically, and eavesdropping is rude.”
“It wasn’t intentional. Dinner is ready, and Valentina sent me out to get you.” Cristian stares at my lips, and I think he’s remembering our kissing the same way I am. My blood heats, and longing stirs low in my belly. Cristian offers me his hand, and I let him pull me to my feet. My heels dig into the soft grass, and I get stuck, stumbling forward as I lose my balance. But he’s there to catch me before I face-plant the grass and ruin myself.
The instant my body brushes against his, fire blazes hot and heavy inside me. Cristian’s eyes lock me in place as his arm winds around my back. My heart is spinning like a whirlwind as we stare at one another. My hands land on his chest of their own volition, and the craving to kiss him is almost insurmountable.
The clicking of a camera snaps us both out of it, and we quickly pull apart. My cheeks heat again.
“Wow, that is one seriously hot photo,” Tullia says, looking at the preview screen of her Nikon.
“Let me see.” Cristian takes the camera from her and stares at it. “Email me all those, including the ones you took of Sloane on her own.”
“Yes, boss,” Tullia sasses, and I cringe a little.
“You didn’t see that,” Cristian warns.
Tullia makes a zipping motion across her lips.
Cristian leans in and claims a quick, hard kiss before walking off, leaving me staring at his retreating form with my heart in my mouth and my panties on fire.
“Damn, girl.” Tullia threads her arm through mine. “I need all the tea.”
