“Oh, wait,” she continues, her little face lighting up. “I saw a video where theDonhad to give his daughter to be a bride. Will I be a bride?”
Stefano freezes.
For once, he looks like he walked himself directly into a trap and has no idea how to get out.
I take a slow sip of my good old American coffee.
This should be good.
“Absolutely not.”
Maverick’s voice rolls into the kitchen from the doorway.
Every head turns.
He stands there in a dark suit, looking far too powerful for a conversation involving doll coffee, Italian lessons, and elementary-aged mafia membership.
Livy blinks at him.
“No bride?”
“No bride.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
“What if I want to be one when I’m old?”
“When you’re old enough to make that decision for yourself, we’ll discuss it.”
Livy thinks about that. “How old?”
“Thirty.”
I cough again.
Stefano suddenly becomes very interested in his espresso.
Livy’s eyes widen. “Thirty?”
“Forty, if you keep asking questions before breakfast.”
“That seems unfair.”
“I’m comfortable with unfair.”
Sabrina raises her hand.
Maverick looks at her. “Yes, Sabrina?”
“Do I also have to wait until I’m forty?”
“Your papa and I will agree that yes, you too have to wait until you’re forty.”
Sabrina gasps.
Livy leans toward her and whispers, “That’s because he likes us.”
