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We’d just finished a delicious liver paté with warm Brioche and two glasses of Viognier, my favorite white wine, when I gathered my courage. “Do you still not want any more children?” I meant to ask it in a calm, low voice, but instead I’d blurted it out.
Cassio lowered his glass slowly, brows pulling tight. “Are you…?”
I gave him a look then raised my almost empty wine glass. “Really? You think I’d drink two glasses of wine if I were pregnant?”
He chuckled. “I didn’t think about it.”
“Men,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help but smile. “So, what do you say?”
I was oddly nervous about this. Cassio and I talked about almost everything, except for the kind of business dealings he deemed too brutal for me—and the secret about Simona and Daniele I still carried in the deepest corner of my heart.
Cassio put his hand on mine. “Do you want another child?”
Another child. Not a child, not your own child. We’d come such a long way, and now there was absolutely no doubt that Simona and Daniele were my children too.
“I don’t feel like our family is complete yet. I want to have a baby to cuddle again.”
“They also cry, vomit, and poop, and once they don’t do that anymore, they throw the worst tantrums. You really want that?”
I grinned. “Yes.”
Cassio shook his head as if I was unreasonable, but from the gentle look in his eyes, I knew I had him. “So?”
“If you want another baby, you’ll get it.”
“But what about you? I don’t want you to give me a baby only to do me a favor.”
Cassio bent over the table. “Trust me, giving you a baby isn’t a chore for me.” I slapped his forearm lightly, and he continued in an even lower voice. “I’d love to have a baby with you.”
“We can start today,” I whispered and ran my high heel up his trouser leg, smiling suggestively. In his form-fitting suit, he looked irresistible.
One corner of his mouth rose. “Are you sure you want to miss the Canard à l’orange and the Crepe Suzette?” Hearing Cassio speak French, even if it was only to praise a duck in orange sauce and pancakes was almost too much for what little control I had left.
I pressed my heel against his crotch, causing him to form a low hiss in his throat. “Okay, food first, sex later.”
He shook his head but couldn’t say anything because the waiter was heading our way with our main course.
We spent Christmas at our beach house like we’d done the two previous years. Despite the cold, we loved to take strolls along the beach. For Cassio, it was a way to get away from the weight of his responsibilities for a couple of days. When he was home, someone always wanted something from him. That was the problem if you were Underboss. Dad had always delegated most of the work. Cassio preferred to have control.
Simona and Daniele decorated the Christmas tree while I prepared Christmas dinner for the family. Loulou hovered beside me, hoping a slice of bacon would drop to the floor. It had become tradition that Cassio’s sisters and their families, as well as his parents, came over to us to celebrate. My parents didn’t want to drive long distances in winter, so we always visited them in Baltimore after Christmas.
I had a special Christmas present for Cassio that I would give him once we were alone. A gift box filled with a cute onesie with the words “Hello, Dad,” earplugs, Advil, and rug cleaner as a joke for that one time Simona ripped away her diaper and pooed on our living room rug after eating red beet. It was a memorable moment that the rug didn’t survive. Apparently beet was harder to get out of fabric than blood.
I couldn’t wait for his reaction.
When I didn’t drink wine during dinner, Mia gave me a knowing look, and Cassio, too, seemed to catch on quickly. What worried me more was Mansueto’s eager expression. He’d kept his promise and not mentioned the paternity test again, but his silence didn’t mean it wasn’t still in his mind. His health had deteriorated rapidly in the last few months. He needed a wheelchair and had lost plenty of weight. Getting an heir, one who was related to him in blood, might be one of the last things he wanted to accomplish in his life.
Even before Giulia gave me my Christmas present, I knew she was pregnant and not only because she wasn’t drinking wine. She’d acted differently in the last couple of weeks. Subtle changes. She’d occasionally touch her breasts as if they ached. She also hadn’t felt well in the morning. I never asked because I wanted to give her time to come to terms with it.
Of course, everyone else picked up on it during dinner as well. Giulia always drank a glass of white wine with her food.
