“Hey, Mike.”
Michael turned a shade of puce. “Don’t hey me.”
“What am I supposed to say?”
“How about—‘I’m a fucking jackass.’” Michael ignored his wife’s attempts to shut him up, leaning across the table. “‘I’m a disrespectful, lying, coward.’”
“How the fuck am I a coward?”
Michael opened his mouth. I shook the table with a fist, rattling the silverware and glasses. Conversation halted as I met my brother’s vengeance head-on.
“Michael, this isn’t about you. Just stop.”
“She's right, honey.” Carmela seized his hand and tugged until he staggered upright. “You need to stay out of their business.”
Michael tore his gaze from me. “But she’s my sister…”
Their voices faded as Carmela coaxed him away.
A sick yearning assaulted me as Vinn wrapped his arm around me. His expression didn’t mirror the relaxed faces surrounding us.
“Forget Michael. We have other things to worry about.”
I nodded, sipping my sparkling cider.
“We have to visit Nico.”
I pulled a face, and Vinn frowned. “What? I’m not thrilled about sucking up to the guy who’s dying to pawn me off.”
My senses leaped to life as his touch found my thigh. His fingers traced a circle on my leg, the warmth inside me building.
“While you’re with me, you don’t have to suck up to anyone.”
“Except you?”
Vinn made a dissenting noise. “You can please me in other ways.”
A delicious shudder ran through me.
“How?”
“Take that beautiful mouth of yours…and shut it.” As his grip tightened, his attitude grew more serious. “Or better yet, put it to work on my cock.”
A ribbon of heat scorched my chest, and I inhaled sharply. “You’re in rare form tonight.”
“I need you to behave, Liana.”
His command made the knot rise in my throat.
It’d been a long time since we’d kissed, and although we’d exchanged chaste pecks all night, the fleeting excitement was nothing compared to submitting to him. Too many times, I’d imagined him bursting into the bedroom, ripping off the sheets, tearing my pajamas’ elastic band in his haste to fuck me.
He smirked as though he watched the pornographic reel in my mind. “This isn’t a game. If you screw this up, I won’t be around to bend you over the bed.”
“What makes you think I want that?”
“The way you’re looking at me.”
My cheeks burned, and then the photographer approached us. “Mr. Costa? Are you ready?”
“Oh, I completely blanked.” I rose, yanking Vinn’s arm. “Sorry.”
Vinn turned at the waist, gawking at him. “You hired a photographer?”
“Yeah, of course,” I whispered into his ear. “It would be weird if we didn’t. It’ll be done in half an hour.”
And I secretly wanted the photos.
His stare drilled into me, and my determination to hide faltered. I couldn’t pretend this event wasn’t a monument to the greatest love I’d ever known, even if he’d changed.
A secretive smile softened his lips.
He enveloped me in his burly embrace. As the photographer gave us direction, I fussed with his shirt, too intimidated to stroke the broad planes of his chest until Vinn took my hands and did it for me. Then he scooped my face and kissed me. My stomach did somersaults at the sensual strokes.
I slipped my arms in his jacket. I tipped my head and pressed my mouth into his. He melted into me, the touch of his lips like a whisper. My knees weakened as he descended on me, demanding. His palm roved my dress to skim my hips and thighs.
Once the photographer finished, Vinn’s eyes cut at me. “Let’s talk to Nico.”
“Okay.”
He pulled, and I followed. We wandered the outdoor patio strung with golden lights, casting a dreamy glow over the lawn where there’d been catered food. We approached Nico and his other relatives, elbow deep in cheese and drink.
Nico seemed to be channeling his son, based on the empty bottles surrounding him and the two girls perched on his lap. I didn’t know Anthony well. He was my brother’s age, so we’d never hung out, but he was always high or drunk whenever I’d run into him.
Nico had taken his son’s kidnapping badly. Judging by the brand new sports car parked outside, he was trying to fill the Anthony-shaped hole in his heart. My sympathy for him was limited. The man had sold me to a biker.
“Geez. He’s a midlife crisis on steroids.”
“Yes, he is.” Vinn stared at a guy sitting beside Nico, who was micromanaging my uncle’s alcohol. “Oh boy. He’s got Alessio filling in for his son. Not good.”
“What?” I peered at the sour-faced man beside Nico.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Has that phrase has ever worked for anyone with anxiety?”
He patted my hip, urging us forward. “Remember, don’t speak unless spoken to.”
“I’ve been around him before.”
“Not when he’s like this.”
Nico shot upright, his bulk upsetting the table. Alessio caught Nico’s glass and dumped its contents while Nico barreled toward Vinn, arms outstretched.
Vinn winced as his uncle trapped him in a giant hug, discomfort written all over his face.
“This asshole is getting married. Alessio. Where’s Alessio?” Nico blinked as he disengaged from Vinn. “Ah, there you are.”
“What is it?” said the harassed-looking man, who seemed to hate this party and everyone.
“Alessio, what do you think of Vinn becoming a father?”
“Can’t believe it.” A faint sneer curled his lip as he stared daggers at Vinn. “Michael’s sister, no less. Quite the scandal. I’ve never seen Michael that pissed.”
Vinn shrugged. “Well, the baby’s coming regardless of his approval.”
“How are you handling that?” Nico pounded Vinn’s back, the blows heavy enough for Vinn to grit his teeth. “You ready to be a dad?”
“I don’t think anyone’s ready.”
“I was,” Alessio quipped. “Have you read any books?”
Vinn shook his head. “Nah. I’ll be fine.”
I wished I had his confidence. “I’ll be reading everything, and so will you.”
“You all right, sweetie?” Nico asked, his attention swaying toward me. “Can I get you anything? Something to settle your stomach?”
“I'm okay, thank you. The first trimester has been smooth sailing. Luckily, I’ve had very little nausea.”
“My wife had it bad.” Nico seemed to forget his mistresses, who hovered in the background, sulking. “The pregnancy was so hard on her. She couldn’t have another kid after Anthony.”
I’d wondered when his name would crop up.
Alessio’s eyes glazed over, and he stared into his wine. Vinn betrayed zero emotion, his face a stone mask. Nico’s accusatory glare bored into Vinn, and then me.
“We should toast to the baby,” Nico deadpanned, glancing around. “Hey, you. Get champagne—no, dumbass—I want a bottle.”