Page 11 of Savage Proposal

“But what if all of themdo?” Lorenzo asked.

“If that happened, I would highly suggest that we end some of the pregnancies in order for Ms. Rossi to be able to carry them safely.”

“So, you’re putting babies into me, but if there are too many, you’ll take them back out,” I said. “That’s what you’re getting at.” The good Catholic girl inside of me winced at the thought.

He nodded. “Precisely.”

The prospect turned my stomach, and of course, Lorenzo noticed. “We have a lot to think about,” he said, standing up. “We’ll call to set up an appointment to get her bloodwork done soon.”

Dr. Coleman studied us for a second, and then dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I look forward to your call,” he said as we walked him back to the front door.

When he was gone, Lorenzo tried to say something, but I shrugged him off. “Not right now,” I said. “Let me absorb some of what he said.”

Lorenzo nodded. “That’s fair. Do you want some coffee?”

I stared at him, dumbfounded, for a moment, and then I nodded. “Coffee sounds good.”

He pointed in the direction of the kitchen. “You know where the Keurig is.” Then he was heading back toward his office.

“What a fucking dick,” I said, even as a smirk curled at the corner of my mouth. I tried to stop it from happening, but when I got to the kitchen, only to find a steaming mug of coffee waiting for me, there was no stopping the smile. I took the mug and sat at the breakfast table, eyes on the greenery outside.

Nothing made sense anymore…but I could see the trees and flowers from right here, and that had to count for something.

CHAPTER 7

Lorenzo

Every other Thursday, Cristian would come for dinner; everyone enjoyed those visits. In the kitchen, Amalia was making eggplant parmesan. She wouldn’t even do that for Elio. Isabella was seated at the kitchen counter, watching.

“You don’t want any help?” Isabella asked. “I can dredge the eggplant or something.”

“Leave Amalia alone.” Isabella turned to where I was seated at the kitchen table, eating my lunch. “She doesn’t need you underfoot.”

Isabella huffed, and I didn’t have to look at her directly to know that she’d rolled her eyes at me. I could get up and deal with it, but Cristian was due any minute, and I had to make confession today. “I was offering to help her,” she said because, of course, she couldn’t keep her goddamn thoughts to herself.

Before I could say anything, Amalia cut me off. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s an old Vitali family recipe; Lorenzo and Elio’s grandmother entrusted it to me. I’m not allowed to teach it to just anybody.”

Isabella’s shoulders slumped, but she nodded. “Sure, that makes sense,” she said, but there was a bitterness in her voice.She doesn’t like rejection, I mused, though I didn’t know why I cared to make note of it.

I took a bite of the club sandwich that Amalia had made me, relishing the crisp bacon and juicy tomato, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cristian’s golden blond hair bouncing past the window. He was at the back door in moments and coming inside without knocking. “Buon pomeriggio,” he greeted as he stepped inside. Cristian was dressed in a pressed white shirt and black trousers: he had come straight from the seminary, then.

“Cristian!” Amalia’s voice was bright. “I’m making Nonna’s eggplant.”

My younger brother smiled, but then Isabella turned around, and it died on his lips. He glanced at me quickly, and then back to her. “Hello?”

Isabella held out a hand. “Isabella Rossi,” she said by way of introduction. “I’m?—”

“Our new nurse,” I broke in. “She’s working off a debt.”

“Myfather’sdebt,” she said, a challenge clear in her voice.

Goddamnit. I wanted to put her over my knee and spank the brat right out of her. I knew her type well: a little uppity, had to have the final word, but with the right handling, she would melt under my touch. My cock twitched beneath the zip of my jeans, and I was grateful for the table that I was sitting at.

Cristian hummed. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Isabella,” he said. “Lorenzo, let’s go to your office, yeah?”

“Sure.”

I put my plate in the dishwasher and followed after my baby brother. I walked behind him the whole way, taking in the stiffness of his shoulders, his silence. “Lock the door behind you,” he tossed back at me as we reached my office.

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