Page 270 of Rosetti Family New York
My hands find her hair, tangling in it, keeping her close.
My eyes find hers, holding them, not letting go.
I press a kiss to her temple.
“Sloane Rosetti has a nice ring to it,” I murmur.
She laughs against my neck.
“So does husband.”
I pull her closer and whisper into her hair.
“Never letting go.”
The moonlight spills over us, covering our bodies, and I think maybe I’ll never want more than this.
I think maybe I’m finally whole.
Afterward, we lie tangled in the dark, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest.
34
Sloane
Game night at the Rosetti mansion is madness and love, all tangled up like string lights. Noise bounces off the steel and glass walls as we gather around the huge coffee table in the main lounge room, yelling over one another, throwing cards, and pretending not to care who wins (we all do).
Carmela throws her arms up, almost knocking over her glass of wine, then bursts into a fit of giggles. Matteo blows her a kiss and calls her a little cheater. Rafe sits beside me, a quiet storm in the center of it all. His brothers are loud and impossible. His sister is a ray of sunshine. His family. My family. It feels like I’ve always been here. Like this is where I belong.
Leonardo stands, loud as ever, flinging a deck of cards across the table. They scatter like confetti, landing in laps, on the floor, and I’m sure some disappear into the massive black couch behind us.
“Someone’s not playing fair,” he says, cracking his knuckles, making it sound like a threat.
“And I wonder who that could be,” Matteo grins, flipping a silver coin through his fingers.
It glints in the overhead lights, bright like his dimpled smile. He leans back, all lazy confidence and charm.
“Doesn’t take a genius to know you can’t shuffle for shit,” he adds.
“Watch it, Playboy,” Leonardo growls, but he’s smiling.
It’s impossible not to with this crew.
The room echoes with the clatter of cards and voices, the click of glasses, and laughter that rolls around the high ceilings. It smells like wine and too many expensive colognes and the spaghetti that the kitchen staff made earlier. The lounge is sleek and modern, filled with expensive furniture, art on the walls. But tonight, with everyone here, it feels warm, alive.
Dom raises an eyebrow from the chair he’s sharing with Besiana, the picture of composed chaos.
“If there’s cheating,” he says, “I know where to look first.”
“Me?” Matteo asks, putting a hand to his heart, acting all offended. “Come on, I don’t have to cheat to win.”
Besiana shakes her head, smiling as she leans into Dom.
“You Rosettis,” she says, voice soft and amused. “Is anything ever not a competition?”
Carmela nudges me from the other side.
“Better get used to it, hon,” she says.
