Page 96 of The Proposal

“Come,” Alexander grumbles, flicking his chin. “You and I need to have a little chat.” I roll my eyes as I step into the house.

Giovanni tugs on the hem of his father’s shirt as we all head down the hallway towards the main room. “Can I go in the kitchen and help Mummy and Aunty Arabella?”

Aunty Arabella.

Fuck I love this kid.

“When you gather up all this paper, you can go.”

His cheeks balloon as he blows out a puff of air. “Crapola,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Excuse me,” my brother retorts.

“I said, crapola.”

Alexander’s lips thin, making me chuckle. I wouldn’t even count crapola as a swear word. We said way worse when we were kids … well, I did. “Let me guess, you heard your mother say that?”

“Yes,” Giovanni replies as he bends over and snatches some of the discarded wrapping paper from his presents off the floor.

“Hmm,” he hums. “Looks like someone is going to get a spanking.”

That gets his son’s attention. “You’re going to spank me?”

I bark out a laugh. “Not you, buddy. Your mum.”

His eyes almost bug out of his head. “You’re going to spank Mummy?”

“I think he plans on doing more than spank?—”

That’s all I manage to get out before my brother shoves me in the shoulder, causing me to stumble back a step. “The fu—” His eyes dart to Giovanni, who’s watching intently. “Fudge.”

“Fudge,” I repeat over a chuckle.

Fucking pussy.

Alexander snatches up the empty plastic garbage bag from the side table and takes over the rubbish duty. “Go in the kitchen and help your mother.” Giovanni doesn’t hesitate as he punches the air and bolts from the room.

Once we’re left alone, his eyes move back to me. “Start talking.”

“About what?”

“Don’t be a dick; you know what I’m waiting to hear.”

“Oh right, my bad. Merry Christmas, big brother.”

When he pauses, tilts his head back, stares up at the ceiling and blows out a long, frustrated breath, my shoulders bob with laughter.

“Where did you meet Arabella?” he growls.

“Italy.”

“We’ve already covered that. Why is talking to you like pulling teeth?”

Because I’m stalling.

I brace myself before answering because I know he’s notgoing to like what I have to say. “She’s Stefano Rossi’s daughter.” And, as expected, that grabs his attention.

“Are you fucking serious?”

---