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We’ve also talked a lot about the baby. Like we’re doing now, strolling hand-in-hand up the steep cobbled path that takes us back to the hotel from the beach.
“As if. It willnothave the Giovanni name,” I roll my eyes. Then I frown. “Although, being a Russo would also put a target on its head.”
“Leone,” he suggests. Then he grins mischievously. “And if it’s a boy, we’ll call him Eric in honor of the best friend of that blind date of yours. Whatever his name was.”
“Dud Date,” I supply.
Roberto laughs hard. “Right. That guy.”
“Hard pass. Thanks to him, I can’t even think about an Eric the same way. And it’s too early to spitball names—we don’t know what it is, and besides, we should decide where we’ll be raising our baby first.” Roberto halts, and I follow suit, blinking up at the indecipherable expression on his handsome face. “What?”
His mouth quirks up crookedly, and he squeezes my hand. “Nothing, just…ourbaby. The one we’ll be raising together. It makes me ridiculously happy, cutie, and you’ll be one hell of a mother.”
Emotion rises into my eyes, and I sniff and shove his arm. “Stop. I’ll cry.”
“I mean it.”
“Shut up.” I tug on his hand to get us walking again and shoot him a quick look, seeing that he’s still grinning. “Admittedly…I think you’ll be a great father.Ifyou don’t teach them to talk with their fists,” I add before his ego can get any bigger.
He just laughs and lets go of my hand to wrap his arm around me, kissing my temple. We walk in silence for a few more minutes, upstairs near the hotel. Positano is built rising up a mountain beside the ocean, the white and orange buildings and brick everywhere lending a classic Italian feeling to the beautiful small town.
Roberto and I have also agreed that after he attends the gala in a few days, he’ll see about getting another Giovanni representative for theVitalenassignment. He’s sure about his friend Bruno doing a good job, and he’s also confident that he can cite the businesses he owns as Rob Leone as an excuse for stepping down as an underboss to his father, the Giovanni Don.
I glance at him, realizing I have another question for him. I seem to have endless amounts—I’d like to know everything about this damn winking mafioso’s life. “May I ask about…your mother? No one in the Russo family knows what…happened to her.”
I’m hesitant to ask because what if my family had something to do with it? Considering the viciousness of the feud between our loved ones, it's sickeningly likely.
He shrugs. “Cancer. My father kept it such a secret that even many Giovannis didn’t know until she passed. That was a long time ago, though.”
“You must miss her,” I say quietly.
“I do. She was…well, I take after her a lot. She liked trouble, and was a lot moremafiosothan my father sometimes is. She’s the one who taught me how to fight,” he says, laughing when I blink at him. “She was a far cry from the typical mom, but everyone loved her. Losing her was brutal on my father, so I’m glad he has Gabriella now.”
He’s mentioned Gabriella a few times—his father’s bright, loving civilian girlfriend who makes him sample her cooking every time he comes over. I smile a little.
“I’m glad he found someone to make him happy again.”
Roberto nods, looks down at me, and randomly blurts, “Do you enjoy organizing things?”
More than I like to admit, but it’s a strange question, so I raise a brow. “Why do you ask?”
“Just seems like something a sexy little overachiever like you might enjoy. Plus, you straighten everything within your reach whenever you’re distracted. It’s cute. You wanted to brainstorm where we could raise the baby, and I happen to have this lakehouse— "
My phone cuts him off, buzzing loudly in my white shorts just as we reach the hotel. I check it with a frown because the only people with my new number are Mandi and my parents. Sure enough, it’s my mother’s number.
“Shit,” I grimace, looking up at him apologetically. “I should take this. I’ll join you inside in a minute.”
Roberto gives me a deadpan look. “Just call whoever it is back—or ignore them. I’m not leaving you alone in the street of a foreign city.”
I roll my eyes. “Positano has almost no crime rate. Us being here is the closest thing it has to real danger. Besides, I may brag about my upper society meddling, but I’ve gotten my hands dirty over the years, and you should pity anyone who tries to take me off guard. I’d break their fingers in the blink of an eye and twist them for blackmail fodder.”
His look gets increasingly heated as I speak, and now he smirks. “Fuck, I need to see you get your hands dirty sometimes,Bellissima.”
My phone rings again, and I give him a pointed look. With a sigh and a quick squeeze of one of my ass cheeks, he goes into the hotel, winking over his shoulder.
This winking mafioso will be the death of me.No one should be so tempting all the time.
I answer quickly. “Are you just checking in, Mother?”
