Beth refilled Matteo’s coffee and ate some fresh fruit while he drank his morning caffeine. There were few things better than locally grown produce that she purchased at the weekly farmer’s market, especially strawberries and peaches. Right now, strawberries were reaching the height of their season.

“I have to take my vitamins yet,” she told him. “And brush my teeth. Just so you know, Dante’s already had his first allergic reaction to the iron in my prenatal vitamin. The doctor had me keep on taking it because I was breastfeeding. It took a while, but we finally found one form of iron that we both could tolerate. The pediatrician recommends breastfeeding as long as I can. When we do introduce him to foods, we’ll have to do it slowly. Try one for a couple of weeks and watch him for reactions, before we add the next one.”

If they were lucky, iron would be the only allergy that Dante had. Unfortunately, people with allergies tended to have more than one. In addition to being deathly allergic to red dye #40, she’d become overly sensitive to perfumes and fragrances when she was pregnant. Hesitant to risk reacting to new things, she had learned the hard way to stick with known quantities and use things that she knew she could tolerate.

Aware of fragrance allergies, she rarely wore perfume anymore out of consideration for others.

Matteo’s face gave away nothing. If he was disappointed that their son wasn’t perfect, he didn’t show it any more than he showed alarm or concern. Either he didn’t consider an odd iron allergy to be a problem or he accepted it as a fact of life, something to be aware of and dealt with.

“So far, Dante’s been quiet, but it’s only a matter of time before he wakes up. If you’re finished, I’ll start clearing the table, if that’s okay.”

“I’m done except for the coffee,” he said, lifting his mug for another sip. “Everything else can go.”

Beth took their dishes into the kitchen first. Constanza and Bernardo had finished eating. Constanza was rinsing their plates and loading them in the dishwasher. Bernardo must have just fetched the morning paper. He was still looking at the obituaries.

Given his line of work, she supposed it made sense. Other men turned to the sports or comics or business pages. Mafioso dealt in death.

“I don’t think we’ll be walking this morning,” she told them. “I need to talk to Matteo before he leaves. When he does go, I’d like to ask you both about this cookout tonight. He says the whole family will be there. I need to know what to expect. I’d prefer not to make any mistakes Forewarned is forearmed, right? Can you help me?”

Constanza looked at Bernardo, who nodded his head. “I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Thank you.” In a family with secrets, that’s all she could ever expect. “We’ll catch up later, then.”

Matteo brought his empty coffee cup into the kitchen and set it on the counter for Constanza to rinse and load in the dishwasher. “Shoes,” he reminded her. “Come on. After you.”

Beth led the way back to her bedroom, acutely aware of the man walking behind her, no doubt admiring the subtle sway of her derriere. She went to the shoe rack in her closet and pulled out a pair of ballet flats and a strappy pair of flat leather sandals. Both were sensible, comfortable, and safe for walking over rough ground.

“Where it will be cool in the morning, I thought I’d wear flats tomorrow and the sandals tonight. I don’t want to risk twisting an ankle or falling with Dante. Heels are fine for indoors but they don’t work on grass.”

Disappointment clouded his face but quickly dissipated. Matteo pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket and took a picture of each pair of shoes. Slicing a quick glance at Beth, he took her picture, too.

“Hey!” she protested. “Not fair! You need to warn me next time! My hair—”

“Is fine,” he said. “See?”

He showed her the shot that he’d taken. Matteo had an artist’s eye to go with those talented hands of his. She had to admit, it was a good picture.

“I need one of Dante, too,” he said. “Come on.”

Beth held her breath and hoped that the baby stayed asleep. Matteo opened the door almost soundlessly and walked softly across the nursery floor to the crib where their son lay dreaming.

Dante was smiling in his sleep. Matteo was able to capture the moment before the smile faded and disappeared.

They managed to slip back across the hall without waking him.

“Will you send that to me, please?” she begged him. “I’ve tried to get one of him smiling in his sleep, but I’ve never managed to have my phone with me or been in a position where I could.”

Matteo lifted his chin and studied her through shrewdly narrowed eyes. “It’ll cost you.”

Beth felt her sphincter tighten in protest. She dreaded the answer but had to ask anyway. “What?”

She expected him to demand that she bend over and assume the position. Amazingly, he lifted his hand and caught the rope of her hair instead.

“Take it down,” he rumbled, “and brush it for me.”

Oh.

Releasing the breath that she’d been holding, Beth nodded. “Let me get my hairbrush.”

When she returned, Matteo was sitting in the chair where he’d been last night when she’d started to drop her towel. The sharp inhalation of breath had alerted her to his presence. In the light of day, there was no mistaking his continued interest. If watching her brush her hair offered some prurient pleasure and satisfied a kinky need, she’d do it gladly—especially if it diverted his attention from thoughts of anal sex.

Beth took the covered band from around the tip of her braid. Slipping it over her wrist, she undid her plait, separating the strands and finger-combing them as straight as her naturally curly hair could get. The weight of its length made it deceptively straight. In a shorter cut, she’d look like Little Orphan Annie. Her mom had the pictures to prove it.

As much as she dreaded meeting Matteo’s family, she dreaded introducing him to hers more. Although her mom was doing better these days, she would always be an alcoholic. One spiteful biddy, one vicious rumor, one tiff with Rick would send her reeling off the wagon. She could never be trusted to take care of Dante, let alone drive him anywhere.

Which was sad. So very sad. Some of her best childhood memories were overnight stays with her grammy.

Shaking off thoughts of her mother, Beth focused her attention where it should be—on the man who was waiting and watching. She finished freeing her hair and started brushing, running the bristles through the waist-length tips and working her way up until she was able to do sweeping strokes from the crown down.

“My mother’s hair was a lot like yours,” he said softly. “But black, like mine. My eyes are dark like hers, too. Come here.”

Beth froze, mid-stroke, then forced her feet to move. Crossing the floor to his chair, she took the last step that put her within reach.

“Sit,” he said, patting his thigh.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” she blurted, slapping a hand over her mouth.

He rejected her argument with a shake of his head. “That makes two of us. Now, sit your ass down.”

She stepped between his wide-spread feet and sat on his right thigh. He was wearing the clothes that he’d come in last night, with a few more wrinkles in his shirt and an extra crease in the front of his pants. Instead of smelling like baby wash, he smelled like Matteo. Her own sexy beast.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

She tilted her face to meet his penetrating gaze.

“You can’t be this way tonight, bella,” he told her. “Acting scared. I have family members who’ll eat you alive, given the chance. Watch out for Carmine. He’s the worst. My father’s the oldest child, but Carmine was the oldest grandchild until I came along. When the time comes to name the next Dom, I’m pretty sure that he’ll challenge me. I don’t want a war with the Botturos and Stellinos if I can avoid it, especially if they align themselves with the Castellaris. You won’t know anyone tonight except my brothers and father. My best advice is to be polite but trust no one but them.”

Be polite but trust no one. She supposed that it was a sound policy for navigating the shark-infested waters at a mob family gathering.

“I’ll be careful,” she promised.

“Don’t set down your drink. If you can’t keep it with you, pitch it and get another. Same way with your food, capisci?”

The thought of someone tampering with her meal made her shudder with dread. One drop of red food coloring and they’d be calling 911. Given the location of the compound on the outskirts of town, help was certain to arrive too late.

“I always carry an injection,” she told him. “I’ll make sure to keep it on me, just in case. If I can’t do it myself, shoot it in my thigh.”

“I will,” he swore.

Reaching, he touched her hair and followed it past her collarbone to the swell of her breast. “You grew,” he said roughly. “Will they stay this way?”

“Not from what I’ve heard. Once Dante’s weaned, they’ll go back to the size I was, or close to it. I’m still carrying baby weight. Now that I can exercise again, I’ll work on taking the rest of it off.”

“Don’t do it on my account,” he murmured. “The extra meat on your bones looks good. You’ll be glad for the padding when I fuck you like an animal. I’ve gone easy on you so far.”

The thought made her shiver for an entirely different reason.

“Matteo, can I ask you something?”

He picked up a hank of her hair and weighed it in his left hand. “Ask.”

“Do you want us? I mean, if you’re going to be a part of our lives, I need to know. They say that breastfeeding helps prevent pregnancy, but there’s no guarantee. I’ll need to check into it, but between allergies and nursing, getting an IUD is probably the best choice for me.”

Matteo blew out softly. “We don’t need another one right now. Take care of it. Until you’re set up, I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you.”

Well, that went better than she thought it would. Now for the tricky part. Matteo had his own life. A house. A business. A vendetta. She wasn’t sure how he planned to fit into their world.

“Let me know if you ever consider moving in with us. I’ll need to make room in the closet and maybe get a wardrobe for your clothes. I didn’t know if you were staying after Italian Fest, or if you’ll be leaving again to find the man who shot you.”

Matteo wrapped her hair around his hand and fisted it. “I could be persuaded to stay,” he rasped. “Give me a reason.”

Oh, dear.

Fighting panic, Beth gave him the first thing that came to mind. “You missed your son’s birth and two months of his life. Do you really want to miss when he starts laughing, rolling, sitting, crawling, talking, walking? You need to know him, and he needs to know you. He’s a Visconti. Your legacy. His grandfather’s legacy. I can see it in your father’s eyes, he expects Dante to follow you as Dom. He keeps Dante with him now when he talks family business with Bernardo. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t plan to groom him.”

“And what about you?” he challenged, sharpening his hold in a display of domination. “What do I get if I stay?”

“Me,” she whispered hoarsely, willing to do whatever it took for them to be a family. “However you want me. Whenever you want me, as long as you understand that a baby’s needs come first. I promise I’ll make any wait worth your while.”

He grunted. “You talk to your pediatrician. See how soon he can start eating. I have something in mind that I’ll want you for, overnight, just the two of us. We’ll need to be able to leave Dante with Bernardo and Constanza. I need to know when we can make that happen.”

Beth’s brow furrowed, but she kept her questions to herself. If he’d wanted her to know more, he would have told her. Matteo was a man of few words, but he made each one count.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll call this morning.”

He nodded his approval. “I need to go. I’ve gotta run by home, get dressed, go shop, then get to Pop’s. If it weren’t so late, I’d spank your ass and fuck it, but that will have to wait. Remember tonight. Dress nice. Trust no one. Steer clear of Carmine. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Matteo almost grinned. “Now that’s what I want to hear.”