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In an unspoken language, I communicate that I’ll always protect him. No matter who takes him. Threatens him.
Daddy’s here. He’s not going anywhere.
Mattie threads his fingers through my hair. "You saved me, Daddy."
"Fuck right I did," I growl into his mouth, swiping my tongue across his beestung lower lip. "I’ll always protect you. Forever and ever."
Mattie kisses me. Hot. Hard. Passionately.
The warehouse burns behind us as shingles soar into the air and shatter like clay pigeons.
My brothers’ giant automatic weapon doesn’t stop firing—ratatalike a fucking military sniper, unwavering and unrelenting.
At this moment, I don't give a fuck what happens to the Riccardis.
We’ll comb the warehouse for traces of their bodies.
I’m certain they died this time—there’s no way they didn’t.
The only way they’re still living is if they’re part bedbug.
All I care about is my angel. His safety. His life.His love for me.
I crush my lips to his. "Good news, baby boy."
He blushes as he stares into my eyes. "What?"
Tugging my phone out of my pocket, I tap the email from our luxury hotel overlooking the Colosseum. "We’re on time for our trip to Rome."
Mattie giggles as he wraps his arms around my waist. "I’m a little stressed out, but I could still spend the weekend in the Eternal City."
I nuzzle his nose. "If anywhere will take your stress away, it’s Rome."
I lead him to the chopper. Fire bursts into the air behind us, but we don't care.
Let the warehouse burn. Let the Riccardis die a painful death.
My boy is safe.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Mattie
I hold Medici’s hand as he leads me through the Roman Forum.
It’s after midnight—the Park is usually closed at this time.
Medici used his connections with the city authorities to snag us a private tour.
We’ve seen the Arch of Constantine, walked on the arena floor of the Colosseum, snuck a kiss under the fenced-off area beneath the Arch of Septimius Severus, and of course, sampled the best pistachio gelato.
I wanted to get Oreo—Medici vetoed my decision.
"When in Rome, get pistachio. That’s what the Romans do."
I can’t disagree with that.
"I’m glad you’re safe, boy." Medici trails his thumb across my wrist.
