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I turn to Faro with a smirk. "Nonna’s house is a trek from the beach. I think we’ll be fine."
"You’ll think that until Giosuè starts singing a love song to Xavier," Faro grumbles, pressing the button to start the motor. "I’m trying to stop that before it happens."
The boat hums to life. In moments, we’re drifting across the beautiful sea, the bottom of the boat bouncing over the calm water.
As Faro brings us to the crab-catching spot, I can’t help but think over the wonderful time I've spent here in Sicily. To think that I met the three Daddies of my dreams because I answered some shouting rando at a bar.
Lazaro, Marcello, and Santino are… everything I’ve ever desired. They’re kind. Compassionate. Caring. Sexy as hell. One night with them is the equivalent of ten with inferior men.
Never in a bazillion years did I think such amazing men would wantme.I’m damaged goods—an ex-convict who had to kill to protect my little brother. Men run from me despite the fact that the Mayor of New York commuted my sentence because they’re afraid, I assume.
With my new Daddies, my past doesn’t matter. They adore me the way I am—wish to be mine. The sexual fun we have, combined with our cuddle sessions, tells me this.
I can’t wait to bring them nummy crabs for dinner.
Giosuè brings a pair of binoculars to his eyes. "We’re getting close."
"I’m a little tired," I yawn, bringing my right hand to my lips. "Do you two usually wake up this early?"
"I’m something of a crackhead," Faro says. "I don't require much sleep—I had to get used to waking up at all hours of the night to spy on Jako."
"Try this." Giosuè tugs something out of his fashionable purse and hands it to me. "This will wake you right up."
I take the mystery object in my hand. "What is it?"
It looks like a coffee bean—it’s the same size as one, and the color is identical.
Giosuè smirks. "Condensed espresso."
Well, I’m not usually the biggest coffee drinker. As a boy, I was especially sensitive to caffeine. One sip of diet cola before church with my parents had me bouncing off the walls. I wouldn’t sleep, and I'd start to itch all over.
In prison, I had to learn to consume coffee responsibly. It was one of the few ways to bond with your cellmates—and you needed something to look forward to every day. Nothing was worse than waking up, tired as hell, and thinking about the grim day ahead of you.
A pang of heartbreak crashes through me when I think about myforbiddenprison memories—the times I was assaulted. These are the only things I haven’t told Lazaro, Santino, and Marcello about.
I pop the condensed espresso on my tongue. Instantly, my senses buzz to life as a pleasant thrumming fills my brain.
"Wow."
Giosuè chuckles. "Right? Nonno perfected the recipe a decade ago."
"How?" I savor the sweet, creamy texture. It’s not merely espresso—it contains milk or something, and sugar.Mmm.
Giosuè sets his purse down. "He’s always been obsessed with coffee. Don't ask me—it’s his hobby. He invented a new machine and everything."
Faro steers the boat toward a small cluster of rocks. "We’re almost there. You can quit waxing poetic about Nonno’s beans now."
Giosuè glances around. "Are we far enough away from home for me to sing a love song about Xavier now?"
I press my hand to my heart. It’sadorablethat Giosuè finally found love. From the sound of it, he’d been quite the whore before he met Xavier. Always trying to win a man's heart, never having luck.
I place my hand on his shoulder. "Yes."
Faro snaps my hand away. "What doyouknow?"
Giosuè shoots Faro a death glare. "Jericho told me I had permission."
"Jericho doesn’t know how far sound travels out here," Faro says blandly.
