“Chi recita la preghiera della cena?” G-ma asked.
“I got this,” Teddy responded. “Signore, veglia su di noi. Proteggici, soprattutto Elsa. Aiutaci a trovare l'uomo nero e a eliminarlo.”
“Dios mio, Theodore,” Elsa murmured.
“Amen.” Teddy glanced around the table, raised his eyebrows. “I’m just keeping it real.”
“I can’t translate all that,” Slash said.
“I got this,” Greystone said. “Teddy said, ‘Lord, watch over us. Keep us safe, especially Elsa. Help us find the boogeyman and take him out.’”
“Oh, wow,” Sydney blurted.
“Amen,” Luciano added. “And on that poignant prayer—” he put his arm around Simone, kissed her cheek, and returned his gaze to the family. “Simone and I are having a baby.”
The family erupted in cheers and applause. Within seconds, glasses were raised, toasts were delivered, and the questions started coming.
Luciano held up his hand and the group quieted. “Simone, per favore.”
“I’m in my first trimester,” Simone began. “We wouldn’t normally have said anything, but Luciano is very concerned for me and the baby.” Pausing, she clasped his hand.
“I asked Gabriel to run Santini International in the US,” Luciano said. “Simone and I are leaving for Italy tonight. I’ll run Santini Euro. Once the danger has passed, we’ll be back.”
“Danger?” Elsa blurted. “What danger?”
“It’s nothing,” Carrera said.
“Carrera, riesco sempre a capire quando non sei onesto,” Elsa said.
“I’ll translate, “Slash offered. “Carrera, I can always tell when you’re not being honest.”
“This sounds like a private family convo.” Sydney rose. “I’m going to excuse myself for a few.”
“You’re okay,” Greystone said.
With plate in hand, Sydney said, “Where’s the dining room?”
Teddy pushed out of his chair. “I got you.”
Yes, he got shy around pretty women. Yes, Gabriel had a thing for her. But, damn, this was Sydney Austin. And he wasnotgoing to sit there like a dunce and do nothing.
He led her into Carrera and Slash’s formal dining room and shut the door. After she sat, he asked, “What are you drinking?”
She’d left her glass in the kitchen.
“I’m fine,” she protested, the harshness in her eyes front and center.
“Water or wine?” he asked.
“Wine.” Her gaze softened. “Thank you.”
He filled two glasses with the newest addition to the Santini lineup—a crisp chardonnay—and returned to the dining room. After shutting the door, he set down the stemless glasses before easing down at the head. He bit into the delicious salmon, washed it down with the chilled white wine.
“This is really good,” Sydney said, her voice tight.
“You look great, Sydney. Seriously.”
“You do too.”
