I should do a lot of things.
Instead, my mouth opens on its own.
Traitor.
Maverick slides the pasta between my lips with a slow, pleased smirk.
His gaze stays on my face as I chew. “Better?”
I swallow, trying to remember how words work. “Your noodles are better behaved than mine.”
“Of course.”
“That was not a compliment to you.”
His smile deepens. “I accept it anyway.”
Across the table, Livy gasps. “Mama, did he just feed you?”
I close my eyes.
Maverick doesn’t even look ashamed.
“Yes, I did,” he says.
Livy points her fork at him. “That’s dating behavior.”
Stefano lifts his glass. “Il Donhas game.”
“Steffy,” I warn.
Livy beams. “See? It’s already catching on.”
“I do believe my daughter will be the downfall of your brother’s existence,” I say as Stefano sighs in acceptance when someone else calls him Steffy.
“Maybe so,” Maverick says. “But I believe you will be the downfall of mine.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound very good,” I say, looking down at my plate while trying to show the noodles who’s boss.
Unfortunately, it’s not me.
They’re staging a coup, slipping off my fork like they have somewhere better to be. I never saw an issue with it before. Pasta hangs off the fork. You slurp it into your mouth. It’s traditional.
But no one here slurps a single slurp.
“Quite the opposite, Amelia,” Maverick says.
He removes the fork from my hand, calm as anything, then twirls another perfect bite of pasta.
“For years, I have been impossible to move,” he says, his voice low enough for only me. “My world stayed exactly where I placed it. My rules. My order. My control.”
The fork pauses near my mouth.
“Then you walked in with tired eyes, stubborn pride, and a little girl with the bravery of a soldier and the confidence of a world leader.”
I press my lips together, fighting a smile.
His gaze softens.
