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29
MADDIE
Low murmursrouse me from sleep. My eyes feel gritty, my body overheated. It doesn’t feel like I’ve been sleeping for that long. I crack my eyes open to see the early morning rays of sunlight breaking across the horizon. A quick check-in with my body assures me I’m delightfully sore in all the right places.
But also sticky and sweaty.
Lifting my head from Leo’s chest, I see Dante talking to a very naked Matteo. I stifle the laughter on my lips at the picture they make. I blink the sleep out of my eyes and get a clearer look at them. Something’s not right.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Leo’s voice is thick with sleep.
I push off his chest and hop off the lounger. Leo must’ve really kept me warm, because the moment the air hits my skin, goosebumps skitter across my arms and legs. I practically jog over to them. “What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing, Cherry. Why don’t you go inside and get some sleep?”
“Your brothers are here,” Dante says at the same time.
“What? Why?” I stumble and look around as if the answer to that question would be out here on the patio. “Oh my god, I’m naked! I can’t see anyone like this.” Panic makes my voice shrill, but I have bigger things to worry about right now. My gaze flies between Dante and Matteo. “Just them? Not Mom or Vito, right?”
“Just them. They said they wanted to talk, have a chance to properly introduce themselves,” Dante reassures me. “They’re waiting in the hallway right now, outside the room, and I can tell them to get lost if you want.”
My first instinct is to have Dante get rid of them, but I’m not sure if that’s a decision born out of fear or true indifference. I bite my lip and think about it for a moment. “I guess I am curious about them. You’ll be with me the whole time, right?”
“Of course, Cherry. We wouldn’t leave you.”
I nod a few times. “Okay. Yeah, okay. Let me get cleaned up and then let them in. I’ll give them twenty minutes.”
“That’s more than fair, Maddie. I’ll keep an eye on them while you get dressed,” Dante says as he leans in and kisses my cheek. We walk inside the open glass wall, and he hollers over his shoulder, “And you two need to put clothes on. No one wants to see your dicks.”
“C’mon, old man, you know you’re dying to get a look at what made our girl scream last night,” Leo says with a laugh. Humor dances on his words, and I’m glad it’s not a malicious taunt. I’m still a little nervous about how everyone is going to react to sharing, but so far, I have hope it’s going to all work out.
* * *
Fifteen minutesand a quick shower later, I’m standing in the living room dressed in Dante’s black tee and a pair of black leggings. The gun Aries gave me is strapped to my thigh. It’s a message, and I know it’s received by the looks from everyone in the room.
I only had time for a quick coat of mascara and a bit of lip gloss. As much as I loathe most of the things my mother instilled on me growing up, some of them have stuck with me—like dressing for purpose. I had limited time today, so it’s a half-assed job, but I think my point was made.
Nico, Tommaso, and Romeo Santorini sit on the couch across from us. They introduced themselves two minutes ago, and since then, we’ve been sitting in awkward silence. We’re all just looking at one another, sizing each other up, maybe? Well, my men are for sure, but I’m just trying to find any similarities between us.
They all have dark hair, the deepest shade of brown, they’re tall—well over my five-foot-five frame, and a more olive skin tone. Basically: we look nothing alike.
Tommaso and Nico have dark and light brown eyes, respectively, but Romeo has blue eyes—just not the same shade as mine. His are more like deep ocean blue where mine are icy like frost.
It’s strange, really, that my mother produced the three men in front of me and my sister and I. No one would suspect we were related, which reminds me.
“I’d like to see a paternity test with samples from all three of you, done at a lab of my choosing.” It’s the first thing I’ve said since they walked in, even giving them my silence when they offered their names. A move that would have my mother flipping out.
Hey, I never claimed to be above a little pettiness. And I think I’m due.
“Of course,” Nico says. “We’re more than happy to do any sort of tests to prove our DNAs overlap. I can’t say the same for our father though.”
“He’s not my father.” It’s a reflex, a defense mechanism. “How long have you known about me?”
“I just found out recently,” Nico offers.
Tommaso shrugs. “A few months.”
“Years.”
