Page 83 of Bastard Prince
And at the other end of the island, as far away from Rocco as she could possibly get, sat Mia, nursing a glass of white wine and staring around the room in wide-eyed fascination. After she had stitched me and Enzo back together last month, I had been hounding her to spend more time with the crew. She still hadn’t quite come to terms with the gray area that we all operated in, but she was here, and that meant something.
So, as I stared at these people, this ragtag group of misfits and throwaways who had somehow found their way to each other, I felt happier than I could ever remember feeling.
This was what family truly meant.
“It’s almost time, Rocco. Not that you’ll have any room left after the amount of food you’ve already packed away,” I teased.
“I promise you, boss lady. There’s room.” He pat his remarkably still-flat stomach, lifting his t-shirt and revealing his impressively cut abs. He thew Mia a salacious look, which she very pointedly ignored, turning to stare at the huge television while taking another sip of her wine. “There’s always room for something tasty.”
Rolling my eyes at the two of them, I continued, “Good, because this turkey is the biggest bird I could buy and still have it fit in the oven.” I removed the oven mitts and held them out to Rock. “Here, make yourself useful.”
Grinning like a loon, he hefted the bird out and placed it on the stove-top for me, and between the two of us, we wrestled it out of the roasting pan and on-to the cutting board to rest while I started the gravy.
“It smells amazing, baby,” Enzo growled as he came up behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist and his sandalwood and smoke scent invading my senses. “Best looking bird I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
I laughed as he kissed my neck, softly at first, then with increasing aggression until the gentle drag of his incisors across my sensitive skin had my knees going weak.
“I’ll take that as a compliment about my cooking and not an innuendo about the number of attractive women you interact with on a daily basis.”
“You know you’re mine, Francesca,” he stated seriously, reaching out to take the whisk from my left hand and holding it out to display the giant ring he had recently placed on my finger, as if that alone said everything I needed to know about his affections.
When we’d returned from New York, Enzo had gone and met with Jacqueline Holbrook, secretly conspiring between the two of them to order what Enzo said was ‘the engagement ring I should have had if all this other shit hadn’t happened first.’ I could admit that the gesture was sweet, but I was still not used to seeing the three-carat black diamond solitaire where it rested on my hand.
But, I did absolutely love it. It was so damn sexy.
“And I’m yours,” he continued, flipping his hand over and showing me the wolf tattoo. Sway had lost his mind when he’d seen it, claiming that he was getting one as soon as he turned eighteen. I told him I’d think about it. “Now and forever, baby.”
Reaching my hand up, I curled my fingers into the soft hair at the back of my husband’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss.
“Forever.”
“Hey!” called Trick, his voice booming over the sports announcers that were being piped through the built-in sound system. “If you two could stop making out, some of us are getting hungry.” Enzo didn’t stop kissing me, but I peeked my eyes open enough to see him flip Trick off as he leaned over the back the couch.
Trick, of course, thought this was hilarious, and proceeded to wolf whistle. “Just don’t get any spit in the gravy, boss.”
Pulling back from the kiss, I burst out laughing. “How about you guys all get in here and start hauling dishes out to the table. Enzo, you can carve the turkey, and then we can eat.” Clapping my hands, I directed everyone as they moved huge bowls of mashed potatoes, stuffing, and sweet potato casserole as well as the more traditional Italian dishes I’d tried to incorporate likecapresesalad and a baked ziti.
“Oh, score!” Rocco shouted. “You made potato balls.” He beamed at me as he moved off with the dish of spiced pumpkin gnocchi.
I watched as everyone moved together, seating themselves around the long table Enzo and the guys had set up out on the shaded patio space. When they were all seated and the table loaded with more food than I probably needed to have cooked, I ladled up my gravy as Enzo came back into the kitchen for the platter of carved turkey.
“I’m sorry I made such a mess of your kitchen, Enzo,” I called as I wiped a drip of gravy off the gorgeous gas range.
“Babe.” Enzo gave me a stern look. “How many times I gotta tell you? It’s your kitchen, too.” Pulling me into him, he spun me so my back was to his chest and we turned in a slow circle, letting me take in the house, the yard, and all the people in it. “It’s alloursnow, Francesca.”
Overcome with sudden emotion, I couldn’t find the words, so I only nodded.
“It’s pretty great, isn’t it?” he asked, lifting his chin toward the back yard.
“Yeah,” I sighed wistfully. “It’s better than I could have ever hoped for.”
I thought about telling him right then. As I rested my hand on my abdomen, I thought about letting him know that things were going to be getting even more crazy, but in what I hoped would be the best way.
But right as I opened my mouth, the door bell rang.
“Are you expecting anyone?” I asked.
“No,” he replied, and with a sharp whistle, got the attention of everyone at the table. In an instant, Rocco was at his side, gun in hand, while the others were spread out around the room, Lucky standing defensively in front of Lexi and Mia, the former looking bored and the latter looking on the verge of bolting.
