Page 43 of Roman

Nonna’s head snapped in my direction, her green eyes narrowed. “No, he did not. Roman?”

I wanted to pull out my gun and shoot him. Not dead, but in the knee or somewhere equally painful. But we were never armed around Nonna. A glare was all I could do. My denial died at the look of utter delight on her face. I huffed a long breath.

“It’s still new, Nonna.”

“He is crazy about her,” Aldo insisted. “Taking care of her.”

Her gaze never left my face. “Roman? The other day you said… Why have I not met her?”

Aldo sat back with a wide grin.

Internally, I groaned. Both of his knees were in jeopardy now.

“She, ah, was in a car accident, Nonna,” I said, continuing the lie. “Her face is badly bruised, so she is shy about meeting you until that clears up.”

“What is her name?” she demanded.

“Effie,” Aldo replied for me. “She’s a pretty little thing. Vi adores her.”

“Vi has met her and not me?” Her voice indicated her dismay.

“She has been helping me care for her. Effie is a private person, and I didn’t want to embarrass her.”

Nonna nodded. “Good boy. Now you bring her Sunday for lunch.”

I opened my mouth to say no, but she shook her head. “I do not care about bruises or prettiness. The heart matters.”

“She’s got a huge heart. Everyone loves her,” Aldo insisted. “She makes Roman act human.”

She nodded firmly. “Sunday.” She glanced at Aldo. “You too.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

I was going to kill him—and he knew it. Nonna stood to go get something in the kitchen.

“You are going to pay for that stunt.”

“Really?” he said, not at all worried.

“Your kneecaps are in danger of meeting my bullets.”

He picked up another pastry from the plate, humming. “Your nonna and her pastries. Those are dangerous. You, not so much.”

“How do you figure that? My gun is far more painful than a few pounds.”

He grinned. “You shoot me in the knees, you’ll be dealing with my wife. A very angry, very frustrated wife. She likes it when I go down on my knees for her. You shoot me, I won’t be able to. Then she is gunning for you. Probably your balls. My knees will recover. You can’t sew balls back on, so I suggest you keep your gun safely where it is.”

I cursed, taking a pastry. He was right. Vi was scary when she was pissed. And I liked my balls right where they were.

“Watch it,” I growled.

He laughed.

The bastard laughed.

“Oh, I am. And it is so fucking amusing to watch.”

I ignored his remark.