“That was not a kiss.”
“It felt like a kiss.”
“That was a promise.” He leans closer, his voice dropping low enough to make my knees consider early retirement. “When I kiss you, Amelia, you’ll know the difference.”
Freaking swoon.
There is no other word for it.
No mature thought.
No dignified response.
Just swoon.
All over his fancy marble floor.
“Your daughter knows more about crime families than I do,” Stefano says as we enter the dining room.
A room I can’t begin to describe.
It looks like it belongs in a museum.
The main table alone could seat twenty people, maybe more. Dark wood gleams beneath crystal chandeliers. Tall candles flicker between bowls of lemons, fresh herbs, and flowers arranged so perfectly they look painted. Along one wall, glass doors open to a terrace washed in golden evening light.
I suddenly become very aware of my shoes.
“And that’s saying something,” Stefano adds, “seeing as I grew up in this world.”
“How does she even know about crime families?” Maverick asks.
I can’t help but laugh.
“Thank you,” I say, sitting in the chair Maverick pulls out for me. “Something you should keep in mind about my daughter. When she wants to know something, she’ll stop at nothing until she learns it.”
Livy lifts her chin from a chair a few places down. “Research is important.”
Stefano points at her. “See? Terrifying.”
“I watched documentaries,” she says. “About some movies Mama said I was too young for, but I only saw parts because the videos online didn’t show everything.”
My head snaps toward her. “Olivia Marie.”
She freezes.
Maverick lowers himself into the chair at the head of the table, right next to mine, his expression far too amused for my comfort.
Livy gives me a careful smile. “I mean… hypothetically?”
“That isnotwhat hypothetically means.”
Stefano reaches for his water glass. “I like her.”
“You would,” Maverick says. “She reminds me of you.”
Rosa enters with two staff members behind her, carrying platters that smell so good I nearly forget my child just confessed to secret crime research.
Nearly.