Page 272 of Rosetti Family New York
“Hey,” Leonardo says, handing me a glass of wine, eyes wicked like he’s already planning something. “What’s your cop daddy gonna say about all this?” He gestures around the room, a wide sweep that takes in every loud, happy inch of it. “Think he’ll have a heart attack?”
I think of Dad, imagine his stern look as he eyes the family that comes with the man I've chosen. I can feel him glaring holes in Rafe, his demands for a background check only half-joking. The worst part is, I know what kind of trouble he’ll imagine me in. The best part is, he’ll be right.
I picture my mother beside him, her practical, organized brain trying to find a place to start. She’ll be kind, at least. She always is. I think of her trying to fit in where she can, and the way her eyebrows will shoot to the sky the first time someone swears at game night. The first time someone pulls out a gun.
And then there’s Frank, his big-brother protectiveness turned up to ten. I can hear him now, his no-nonsense voice booming all the way from Tennessee. I can hear the disbelief when he hears about my life now, the utter shock when he sees it for himself on his first visit. I can see his eyes widening at the sight of all these large, loud Rosetti men in their designer suits and black t-shirts and leather and tattoos.
And Lisa, my little sister, the practical one. I bet she’ll ignore all the nonsense, shake her head, and point out to Mom, Dad and Frank just how wrong they are.
My sweet, quiet family. The contrast is almost funny. They're so unlike the Rosettis. They've never met people who would literally rip a man's head off for insulting a loved one. They've never met anyone like Rafe, with ice-blue eyes and leather gloves and a history that still scares me sometimes. They've never met a family like this.
They don't know it yet, but they're going to love them.
“He’ll love you all,” I say, and I mean it. “Or at least, he’ll have to pretend to, or else.”
Carmela chokes on her drink, Matteo grins, and everyone dissolves into laughter.
“Or else,” Emilio repeats, with a lift of his eyebrow and a smirk on his lips.
“Ruthless,” Dom says, sounding almost proud and nodding, like this settles everything. “She’s one of us.”
Leonardo puts his arm around me and gives me a squeeze, like a big brother showing affection.
“Damn straight,” he says.
Eleanor laughs and nudges him.
“Be nice,” she tells him, but she’s smiling, and I know she feels the same.
My cheeks hurt from smiling, but I don’t care. This is my life now, wild and unexpected and beautiful.
“Ruthless, I like that,” I say, glancing up at Rafe, who’s looking at me with those impossibly blue eyes. “Do you think it suits me?”
He brushes a kiss against my temple.
“Hell yes,” he says.
Everyone whoops and whistles. Carmela throws a pillow at us, and Matteo calls us the cheesiest couple in the history of cheesy couples. Rafe just flips him off and pulls me closer.
“So damn gross,” Leonardo groans, but I catch him looking at Eleanor like she’s the only thing he’ll ever need.
I snuggle into Rafe’s side, my head on his shoulder, and breathe in the night. The laughter, the mess, the love. It’s all mine, and it’s perfect.
“Let’s finish this game,” Carmela says. She’s on the floor now, teaming up with Matteo, eyes full of mischief. “Someone has to show Emilio he’s not the boss around here.”
“Good luck with that,” Emilio says, his voice amused and so self-assured that it’s no wonder he keeps winning.
“Loser makes breakfast,” Dom declares, and Besiana just shakes her head and laughs.
“No,” she says. “I think we should all make breakfast.”
Leonardo rubs his hands together like he’s planning a new heist.
“Now you’re talking. Sloane, you got any breakfast tips?”
“I do.” I grin. “Just give me a sharp knife and watch me make magic.”
Rafe chuckles, low and warm.
