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“Camila’s here,” she called over her shoulder, her eyes widening as they landed on Roman. “And she has her man with her!”
In less time than it took Roman to blink, another woman with the same family resemblance but shorter, curlier hair, appeared beside this first.
“Miguel! You were supposed to come get us when they pulled up,” she said to the little boy sitting by the window in the adjacent living room, playing a handheld electronic game.
“Sorry,TíaGigi. I got to level seventy and I couldn’t stop,” he said, holding up the game and giving the woman a gap-toothed smile before running off.
Camila shook her head and sighed. “Very subtle, guys. I knew I shouldn’t have told you I was bringing someone. Camping out by the door? Really?”
“Youneverbring anyone,” the first woman said, leaning in to kiss Camila’s right cheek before stepping back so the second woman could do the same. “There was no way we weren’t going to make a huge deal out of it. Sorry,” she said, turning to Roman. “But it’s true.”
“I don’t mind,” Roman said, letting Camila make the introductions.
“Roman, these are my very nosy sisters, Marianna and Gianna. Mari, Gigi, this is Kai Roman. Beniceto him.”
Both women looked offended, although not mad. “We’re always nice,” Gianna said, making Camila snort.
“You’re barracudas,” she said, and it wasn’t lost on Roman that neither sister argued.
“We’re still nice, though,” Marianna said.
Roman took a step forward, ready for whatever they wanted to toss in his direction. “Marianna. Gianna. It’s nice to meet you. I brought a peach cobbler. Family recipe. I hope that’s okay.”
“Oh, my God,” Gianna murmured, arching a brow at Camila. “If you don’t keep him,mamijust might. How long did you say you two have been together?”
Camila’s cheeks turned pink. “Really, you guys? We haven’t even made it out of the foyer.”
“I’m just asking,” Gianna said, taking the baking dish from Roman with a semi-sheepish shrug. He was saved from having to respond to Gianna’s question by the sight of a familiar figure appearing in the foyer, and oh, hell.Here we go.
“You seriously brought him to Sunday dinner,” Matteo said, crossing his arms over his chest as he moved a stare from Roman to Camila, his frown growing deeper with each passing second.
Roman bit back everything he wanted to say—and it took alotof fucking restraint—
letting Camila answer for herself. “Yes. I seriously brought Roman to dinner, and I don’t really care if you have a problem with it.”
“Whoa,” Marianna said, her brown eyes wide and her gaze darting between her brother and Roman as if they were playing hate-stare tennis. “Please tell me you two have already met. Otherwise, this is over the top, even for you,mijo.”
Roman scraped in a deep breath and cobbled together a smile he didn’t quite feel. As much as he wanted to have it out with Matteo, once and for all, he didn’t want to cause a scene that would stress Camila out. “I work for the FBI,” he told Marianna. “Our paths have crossed professionally.”
Delia appeared in the now-crowded hallway, her blond brows furrowed. “Matteo, your mother sent me in here to see what all the fuss—oh.Oh.” She caught sight of Roman and Camila, breaking into a huge grin. “Well, I guess that answers that. Hi, Roman. Hi, Camila. I’m so happy to see you guys!”
“Wait,” Gianna said, looking at Delia in surprise. “You know Roman, too?”
“And you obviously like him a lot more than your cranky beloved,” Marianna added.
Delia, being Delia, just laughed. “Yes and yes, although I wouldn’t say Matteo is cranky so much as just very protective of the people he loves. Roman collaborated with the Intelligence Unit on the case against my former boss. My safety was an issue at the time, so…”
“Ahhhh,” Marianna murmured. “Well, at least that explains all the frowning.”
“I’m not frowning,” Matteo said, and she turned to pat him on the shoulder.
“Mkay. You keep telling yourself that.”
Delia laughed, kissing Matteo’s definitely frowning face before slipping past him and Marianna and Gianna to hug first Camila, then Roman, effectively redirecting everyone’s attention. “Let’s grab something to drink. I haven’t seen either of you forever and I’m dying to catch up.”
Delia slipped between him and Camila, linking arms with both of them and leading them further into the house. Roman went along for the ride—he could table his irritation with Matteo for now, because this wasn’t the time or the place to address it—letting Delia lead him down the hallway and into the open-concept main room of the house. A large, well-appointed kitchen with a butcher block island and butter-yellow cabinets stood off to one side, flowing into a dining room that housed a table nearly longer than the room itself. An expansive breakfast bar separated the kitchen from a living space that was equally large and warmly inviting, with a three-sided sectional and several comfortable-looking chairs arranged for maximum socialization. Four men were clustered in the space, all of them playing with or caring for—okay, wow—seven? No, eight children who looked to range in age from an infant that had to be the baby Camila had told Roman about to maybe nine years old. His senses exploded from the riot of sounds and sights and smells, his heart lurching at the sight of an older woman, who had to be Camila’s mother, wearing an apron and tending a cooktop full of pots and baking dishes in the kitchen.
“Camila!” the woman said, a genuine smile moving over her face as she looked at her daughter. “You’re finally here. Better late than never.”
