Page 28 of Hidden Heir, Italian Wife

“See?” the older man said with a nod of satisfaction. “The truth is right there.”

“Yeah. What part of this are you having trouble believing?” Christo asked Nico out of the side of his mouth. “That Jax had a shot with a solid gold ten and blew it? Kind of par for the course with him, don’t you think?”

No one laughed, especially not Ginny.

“I really wish I’d had this information sooner, Jackson. What about the party?”

“They’re coming with me,” he said as though that was obvious.

His mother’s expression tightened.

“I don’t want to overshadow Eve on her special day,” Bree said firmly. “It sounds like it would be very overwhelming for Sofia, too. So, thank you, but no.”

“You’re coming,” Jax told her, arm like iron across her back. “I’ve asked Bree to marry me. I’d like her to wear Nonna’s ring.”

Another resounding silence fell.

***

“Jackson,” Bree said under her breath. Her eyes were bright with hurt and anger.

He didn’t blame her, but this chilly reception wasn’t about her. His mother was already two hundred miles down the road of marrying him to Tabitha and connecting the Viscontis to her wealthy, influential family. Coming back from that, and the explanations she would have to make in order not to offend, were consuming her in this moment.

Bree tried using the shifting of Sofia’s weight to her other hip to force him to release her. She wanted to leave, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Come to me,piccolina. Mama’s arms are tired.” He drew her from Bree’s hold back onto his arm, liking the feel of her featherweight and steadying hand resting behind his shoulder. “Is the ring here? Or does someone have to visit the bank?”

“I’ll check,” his father said.

“That’s really not necessary,” Bree said to Romeo’s back. “I haven’t agreed…”

Her faint words were overshadowed by Sofia’s surprised, “Did you call me a pickle?”

“I called youpiccolina. It meanslittle one.” He tilted his forehead closer to hers, incapable of resisting her cuteness.

She giggled, shoulders coming up. “I thought you saidpickle.”

“Do you want me to call youpickle?”

She shook her head.

“Piccolina?”

She nodded.

“Stay for dinner. I insist,” Ginny said firmly, gaze softening as she watched them. “Forgive me, Brielle. I completely forgot my manners in the face of this happy news.”

Jax felt the small jolt in Bree’s frame as though she stifled a snort.

“Please come sit.” His mother patted the cushion next to her. “Sofia? Will you come, too? I’d like to know more about you. How old are you?”

Jax ushered Bree closer. She reluctantly lowered onto the sofa, where Sofia wanted to sit in her lap. His daughter was then happy to chat with her new grandmother, telling her she was three and liked to paint and draw.

Bree sat as though she was in military school, spine straight, expression stiff and unreadable. Jax stayed on his feet, moving to accept the drink Nico offered him, but keeping his eye on Bree.

Christo set a glass of white wine on the table in front of her with his signature come-home-with-me smile.

Bree’s response was a tepid, “Thank you,” which amused Jax for its complete imperviousness to his brother’s charm.

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