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“Tell me about this delivery,” I bark.
“I’ve cleared the packages. They’re gifts for Mrs. Volante from Miss Volante.”
It takes me a moment to untangle that. “My sister sent my wife a gift?”
“Several,” Stefan confirms. “Want me to bring them to the house?”
Perhaps I’m going over the top with my desire to have Emilia to myself for a while, but I don’t want any of my men to come up here.
“No, I’ll come to you.”
Shoving my phone into my pocket, I open the bedroom door to check Emilia’s still asleep. She is. I doubt she’d try anything silly like leaving the house. Even if she did, she wouldn’t get past our security measures. There’s a ten-foot wall surrounding the property and the front gate is manned twenty-four/seven by highly trained guards. They’d spot her on the surveillance cameras before she made it five yards from the house.
Not bothering to put a shirt on, I head downstairs and out into the driveway. I jog down to the gatehouse and find Stefan waiting outside for me. He’s holding an enormous bouquet of bright yellow and orange flowers and a couple of beautifully wrapped parcels, one large and another much smaller. There’s also an envelope, presumably containing a birthday card.
“You’re sure all this came from Livvy?”
“Yeah, boss. We scanned everything, and I called her to double check.”
I glance at the time on my phone. It’s eight a.m. My sister is rarely glimpsed before noon and if she is, the encounters aren’t cordial.
“Bet she loved that.”
Stefan snorts. “She threatened to separate me from my balls.”
Olivia’s a brat, but I don’t share my opinion of her with Stefan. We might talk shit about each other within the family, but we never show a hint of discord to the people around us.
“I’m going to take my wife shopping later,” I tell Stefan as I relieve him of the gifts he’s holding. It wasn’t a part of my plans for today, but I want to mark Emilia’s birthday and letting her choose her own gift seems like a good idea. “Have a couple of cars ready around eleven.”
Though I’d prefer not to have an escort, it’s necessary. My name makes me a target for assholes wanting to prove how big their dicks are, and Emilia is also in danger because of the family connections she doesn’t even know about. I have no idea how she’s reached the age of twenty-one without realizing her grandfather was a Mafia don, but it seems she’s completely unaware of that part of his life.
Leaving Stefan to make arrangements, I head back to the house. When I come through the front door, I find Emilia standing halfway down the stairs, a sheet loosely wrapped around her. What the hell is she thinking?
“Get back to the bedroom!” My tone is harsher than I intended, but to my surprise Emilia doesn’t even flinch. “You can’t roam about like that.”
“Why not?” she challenges. “You said we would be alone in the house.”
“Yes, but…”
“Oh!” The little minx cuts me off. “Are those for me?”
I shouldn’t let her get away with interrupting me, but her wide eyes and huge grin defuse my anger. I’m going to have to watchmyself with this woman. She could wrap me around her little finger.
“Yes, let’s go upstairs and you can open them.”
She turns and skips up the marble steps, her pert bottom wiggling beneath the sheet. If I didn’t suspect she was sore, I’d shove her up against the nearest wall and fuck her senseless. Instead, I follow her like some hotel porter carrying her parcels for her. She goes into the bedroom and settles cross-legged at the center of the bed. Wearing nothing but a sheet, she looks like a goddess. She holds out her hands toward me and makes a grabby motion. Some women might look like spoiled brats behaving that way, but Emilia is just plain adorable.
I hand the flowers to her first, and she inhales their scent.
“Bellissima!” She examines the arrangement carefully and finds a small card.
“These gifts are from my sister,” I explain, before she can discover that for herself. “I’m going to take you shopping this morning so you can pick out something nice for yourself.”
Her mouth twists to the side as if she knows damned well it was an afterthought, but she doesn’t call me on it.
“That’ll be nice.” She places the bouquet down on the end of the bed and reads the card. “Welcome to the family, love…?”
She holds the card toward me so I can decipher the scrawl of black ink.
