The cookout was as crowded as she feared. Beth was surrounded by dozens of Visconti descendants. The original eight children included Giovanni, followed by six sisters and one younger brother, born next to last. There were twenty-nine grandkids, fourteen great-grandchildren, and thirteen spouses in the family.

Sixty-four total. All but one of them were here.

She’d been warned to not fangirl over the three cousins who performed with Marco and Tony in Ribelle and to never mention Krissy Castellari, who was pursuing a career in adult films and went by the name of Krissy Kandle these days.

There were plenty of soldatos guarding the perimeter of the Visconti compound. The centerpiece of the property was a palatial, ten-thousand-square-feet, two-story home. Built of stone in the neoclassical style, it boasted single-story service wings to house a fleet of vehicles and a second-floor balcony above the entrance. The air-conditioned loggia behind the house opened onto a beautifully landscaped backyard, where paths wound past flower beds, fruit bushes, patches of garden, and a sampler of trees. The tumbling fall of a water feature was barely audible above the din of conversation, but she could hear the laughter of the grandchildren who were beating the heat by wading in the shallow stream.

An event tent had been erected in the largest expanse of lawn. The dining tables beneath it were already in use. The wet bar in the corner didn’t lack for visitors.

Giovanni met her at the front door and welcomed her to his home with a kiss on both cheeks. Followed by Paolo and Bernardo, the Dom escorted her and the baby to where Matteo was working.

The outdoor kitchen was in its own space, a lovely, large gazebo built of wood and stone. Matteo acknowledged their presence with a nod. Beth could see that he had his hands full with dinner preparations.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’d planned to take a break and introduce you but I’m going to be stuck here for a while. Pop, can she sit with you until I’m free? I’ll come as soon as I can.”

Dom Visconti didn’t seem to mind. “We’ll be in the loggia.”

Matteo brushed a kiss across her lips, kissed Dante’s head, and dove straight back into work, leaving her in his father’s hands.

They returned to the loggia that extended from the living room, providing a transition from indoor to outdoor living. An upholstered chair sat empty, despite the number of people who were standing around, cooling off in the air-conditioned shade. Dom Visconti took his seat and directed her to do the same at the end of the sofa that was closest to him. She had put Dante in a pumpkin seat, where he would be cooler than being held.

Everyone wanted to see him.

Everyone.

The doting aunts. The curious cousins. The snooty Miss Italy wannabe Nadia and the geeky bookworm Isabella, whose porn star sister’s name was not allowed to be mentioned. There were toddling children, rowdy boys, and misogynistic males, including creepy Carmine, who wasn’t about to let a wife, five kids, or Matteo keep him from hitting on her.

Of course, he waited until Dom Visconti was checking on dinner and mingling with family to pounce.

Carmine slid onto the sofa beside her and looped an arm over the back, behind her shoulders.

“Nice dress,” he said. “I’m Carmine. Matteo’s cousin. Isadora’s oldest. Hell, everybody’s oldest. Yep, I’m the firstborn grandchild.”

Beth looked around, hoping to enlist Bernardo’s help if she needed it, but he was gone, too, dammit.

“Of the oldest daughter. I know,” she said, forcing a lightness to her voice that she was far from feeling. “Tell me, how are Becca and the children? Your youngest is three months old now, right?”

If she thought that would be enough to take the wind from his sails, she was wrong. It only seemed to make her a bigger challenge.

Crap.

“Matteo’s been hiding you while he was gone. I can see why.”

Matteo had picked out the perfect dress for her, a flowing, floral confection that enhanced her bust line and flattered her figure. A row of tiny buttons would allow her to nurse Dante, but the low neckline revealed too much cleavage for her comfort—especially where a wolf like Carmine was concerned. The leer in his eyes was unmistakable.

Without Matteo here, invoking his father’s name seemed the next best thing. “We were in good hands. Dom Visconti watches out for us. Dante is his firstborn grandchild.”

“Too bad he’s not legitimate.” He shook his head and heaved a theatrical sigh. “He’ll never rise in the ranks, bastard that he is.”

“Whether he rises or not, he’s still a Visconti,” she said tightly. “Their blood flows in his veins, the same as yours. A marriage license won’t change that.”

Carmine chuckled. “Maybe you don’t want to be married. Matteo’s a hard man. Not like me. I treat my women right. Clothes. Shoes. Trips. Dinners out and breakfasts in. Play your cards right, and I’ll see what I can get you in a snazzy new car. Maybe a convertible. I’d love to see that hair of yours free in the wind…or loose in bed.”

With no one else there to stop him, he lowered his arm and touched her bare shoulder, cupping the apex and squeezing it slightly.

“Take your hand off me,” she grated. “I’m warning you—”

Bernardo rushed from wherever he’d been. “You heard the lady, Carmine. Hands off. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave. Now. Matteo’s headed this way, and he’s pissed. You remember what happened last time.”

Whatever it was, it was bad enough to leach the color from his face. Carmine shot off the sofa, turned to escape, and found his way blocked by Matteo.

Despite what Bernardo said, Matteo didn’t look pissed. He looked calm. Deadly calm. He stood as hard and unyielding as a fortress wall. Carmine had to scramble around him to get away.

Matteo took Dante’s pumpkin seat from her hold. Kneeling, he set the sleeping baby on the floor beside him and looked up to search Beth’s face. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? If he did, I swear—”

“He scared me, that’s all. He called Dante a bastard and said that he’ll never rise in the ranks. He wouldn’t leave me alone. Wouldn’t go away. I told him to not touch me…and then Bernardo came. You came. You stopped him. Thank you.”

Matteo clenched his jaw. The muscles of his face ticked. “Fuck,” he grated. “I was gonna do this later when things had slowed down and the time was right, but, dammit.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. Seeing it, Beth forgot how to breathe.

“Bethany Shelton,” he said, “you gave me a son. You saved my life. I’m asking if you’ll spend the rest of it with me.”

Matteo opened the hinged lid, revealing the diamond engagement ring of her dreams. Tears burned her eyes. Overwhelmed, she pressed her fingers to her lips in a futile attempt to keep from crying. Marriage offered protection from the wolves and made Dante the legitimate heir. What could she say but yes?

Beth nodded, tears flowing freely now. “I will,” she cried, feeling her heart melt at his uncharacteristically romantic gesture. “There’s no one else for me.”

The ghost of a smile shaped his mouth. “Same here,” he said. “What do you say? Let’s try this on.”

Taking the ring from the box, he caught her left hand and slipped it onto her ring finger, nudging it past the last joint and easing it into place.

“What’s this?” Dom Visconti’s voice severed the moment, separating them abruptly.

Matteo stood and faced his father. With no one else near but her and Bernardo, they were virtually alone.

“I just asked Beth to marry me. You said that I could keep her. This makes sure that I do.”

The Dom tsked. “And you didn’t think about asking for my blessing? Matteo, Matteo. I thought I raised you better.”

“You raised me just fine, Pop. I had you and Mama for examples. I want Dante to have that, too. We’ll still need to plan the wedding and do the deed. With Beth’s dad gone, she’ll need someone to walk her down the aisle. We haven’t talked about it, but I think she’d be okay if you gave her to me. Again. Right, bella?”

“Yes,” she said. “Of course. I’d be honored.”

Dom Visconti stood, silent, a frown of disapproval on his lips.

“So,” Matteo drawled. “What do you say, Pop? Are you gonna give us your blessing or no? I’d hate to have this go south. She might not say yes next time.”

Dom Visconti rubbed his forehead and looked at Matteo. “If you do this, are you gonna take care of her?”

Matteo nodded grimly. “I swear on my mother’s grave that I’ll protect what’s mine. Carmine got off easy today, thinking it was okay to touch her. Next time,” he swore darkly, “I’ll break his fucking hand.”

Dom Visconti nodded. “There won’t be a next time. It’s done. She’s yours. The ring proves it. We’ll see about getting you the church for the wedding. You should think about having the reception at the vineyard. October’s a pretty month. Dante will be six months old. Maybe old enough to leave for a night or two. You know, give you two a bit of a honeymoon? You can take a real one on your first anniversary. Maui’s nice. Or Italy. You’ll have time to pick. My wedding present,” he said, sounding more than a bit pleased with himself.

Beth said nothing. She knew that Giovanni was a master manipulator. Was it Matteo’s possessive streak or Dom Visconti’s machinations that had put a ring on her finger? Caroming her gaze between the two of them, she honestly couldn’t say.

Dante chose that moment to jerk awake with a cry.

“He’s probably wet,” she said, unable to reach him with Matteo in the way. “And hungry. Is there somewhere inside where I can take care of him?”

“My old room,” Matteo said. “Come on. Frankie’s manning the grill,” he told his father. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Matteo picked up Dante’s pumpkin seat and let Beth bring the diaper bag. Jostling the baby to try to quiet him, he led the way through the living room, into the marble-tiled foyer, and up the curved, sweeping staircase to the second floor.

A row of doors stretched down a long hallway. Matteo opened the third one on the right and stepped inside.

Beth had grown up in a middle-class family. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for Matteo, surrounded by upper-middle-class elegance and growing up like a prince of mob royalty. His room was a suite, with a king-size bed, a sitting area with a gas fireplace, and an attached bathroom that she planned to use when she was done. One wall held pictures and memorabilia from his youth. She’d have loved to take a look at them, but Dante’s needs came first.

Or they usually did.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I have to pee. Can you watch him for a minute? I won’t be long.”

Matteo hid the panic that flashed across his face. “What am I supposed to do with him?” he asked. “I can’t feed him. I’ve never done the diaper thing.”

Beth was already headed for the en-suite. “Rock him and chant Om,” she said.

She’d seen a father calm a crying baby with chant. It was worth a shot anyway.

Beth closed the door, muting the sounds from both sides. She washed her hands when she was done, turned off the taps, and realized that there was no baby siren wailing in the other room. There was, however, the baritone hum of Matteo chanting Om.

Dante was awake, lying perfectly still and watching his father in rapt attention.

“Well, I’ll be darned. It worked.”

Matteo stopped humming but his gaze was still locked on Dante’s. “Yeah, it did. Where do you want him?”

“Right where he is, for now. Let me get ready for him.”

Beth pulled the folded changing pad from the diaper bag and spread it on the end of the bed, adding a clean diaper and a box of baby wipes to her station. Taking Dante from his seat, she laid him on the pad, unsnapped the bottom of his jumper, and checked his diaper.

“He made a little mess,” she warned Matteo. “If dirty diapers make you squeamish, you may want to look away.”

Thankfully, it was only a three-wipe job. She used a plastic bag to contain everything. Tying the top, she double-knotted it and set it by the diaper bag to throw away in one of the trash cans that had been set up outside.

Instead of taking Dante to a chair, she stretched out sideways on the bed, unbuttoned her bodice, and nursed him lying down. Meeting Matteo’s gaze, she smiled softly. “Thank you for the dresses. And for handling Carmine. And for this.” She raised her left hand and looked again. It hadn’t disappeared. “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe you picked it.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ll find out soon enough. I had help from the friend who was with you at the restaurant. Pop knew how to get hold of her.”

Knowing Giovanni, he had dossiers on everyone in her sphere. Juliette’s name, background, address, and contact information were likely in a file that grew every time they got together.

“I know what I like,” he said, “but Juliette knows you. When I told her that I was looking for a ring, she jumped at the chance to help me shop. I got her to weigh in on the dresses, too.”

“Clever man.” She didn’t tell him that he’d just earned extra brownie points. Enlisting her best friend’s help was brilliant. It’s what put the perfect ring on her finger. Of the hundreds that were available in the city, he’d bought the only one that she wanted.

“We’ll need to ask your father what date he has in mind for the wedding. I don’t think he understands how many things need to be decided and arranged. There’s a reason why people plan weddings a year in advance, Matteo. October’s only four months away.”

Another thought brought her up short.

“You’ll have to meet my mother. Oh, God. Just try to not scare her too much, okay?”

Matteo stretched out on the bed behind her. Pressing his length against her back, he whispered in her ear. “Did I scare you?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “You still do. You can be pretty intense.”

“I’m not an easy man to be with,” he admitted. “There’s a side to me that you haven’t seen. When it takes hold, I’m going to get off on making you cry as much as making you come. But pain heightens pleasure. Eventually, you’ll see.”

Beth shuddered at the dark, erotic promise in his voice. He was going to make her cry. He wanted her tears. Maybe her pleas for mercy, too. He wanted to break her and build her back up. Pain followed by pleasure. To find the one, she would have to endure the other.

She prayed that she would be strong enough to get through it.

She didn’t know what she would do if she couldn’t.