Fate was a fucked up bitch.

Last year, the woman sleeping beside Matteo had been marked for death. Now he was planning to spend the rest of his life with her.

Alanis Morissette chimed in his head. Isn’t it ironic?

When he’d kidnapped Beth, she was an end to a means, a disposable liability. But something about her had made his father spare her life.

Matteo wondered if it was the same thing that he’d noticed.

Beth’s hair was very much like his mother’s. Had the resemblance been enough to stay Giovanni Visconti’s hand? Maybe. Maybe not. Whatever the reason, the Dom had taken a chance on her. Fortunately, the gamble had paid off.

Beth had proven herself to be a devoted mother. Between the baby’s demands and his, she was also bone-tired. Dante had been awake for a while, and the soft sounds coming from the baby monitor hadn’t registered yet. The minute he fussed, the mommy radar would kick in.

The noise from the nursery escalated to a whimper.

Beth pried open her eyes and rubbed her face with her hands. “Morning,” she rasped, her voice husky with sleep. Rolling to her side, she pushed herself up and slid her feet to the floor, donned her robe, and shuffled across the hall. Still learning, Matteo hauled his ass out of bed and followed.

Dante was wriggling in his crib, watching the mobile that hung over it and gnawing on a fist that had proven insufficient.

“Hey,” Beth crooned. “I’m here, buddy. Just give Mommy a minute, or we’ll both be making a mess.”

She ducked into the baby’s bathroom. Dante started to protest. Matteo hushed him. “Hey, it’s only a minute. That’s nothing. Wait until you get a girlfriend who makes you wait half an hour while she puts on her face, or she wants to watch Glee or some such shit on TV, and you give a little to get a little. You know what I’m saying?”

The baby stared at him. Wide-eyed and innocent, he was still fussy, but at least he wasn’t bawling.

“Of course, you don’t. But you will. You will. It’s only a matter of time. Right now, Mommy’s the only woman who matters to you, but one of these days, you’ll be checking out other tits and asses.”

His bottom lip quivered, puckering up like he was going to cry. Matteo reached into the crib, put his hand on Dante’s chest, and chanted, but instead of saying Om, he said home, drawing out the sound. He wasn’t sure that it would work, but Dante was still quiet when Beth came to get him.

Shaking her head, she checked his diaper and took him to the changing table. “You,” she said, “are the baby whisperer. Man, I could have used you that first month when he had colic.”

She had his diaper whipped off and a new one on in no time. Yeah, Beth had the mommy thing down. Now if they could just get the kid to sleep longer, they could finally do what daddy had wanted to since he’d seen her again at Giovanni’s—tie her up and make her beg. Beg for mercy. Beg for more.

His dick seconded the notion.

Beth put Dante to her breast and started feeding him. Forced to wait, Matteo grabbed the top children’s book and started flipping through it.

Different shapes were doing different dances.

He nodded his approval. “A twofer. Nice. Learning shapes is good, but dance saved my ass as a kid. I want Dante to have lessons as soon as he’s old enough.”

Beth smiled softly and smoothed the baby’s hair. “I like that. I wanted to do dance and gymnastics when I was a kid. My folks didn’t have the money, so they put me in 4-H instead. I was the only one who didn’t live on a farm. I couldn’t show livestock. I did candle making and knitting and dog care instead.”

She kept her eyes down to hide them, but she sounded sad. For something that she’d never had, or something that she’d lost? “You like dogs, do you?”

“Dogs. Cats. Bearded lizards. Horses.” Sighing, she looked at him with a wistful gaze. “I was so jealous of the farm kids who got to ride. The only saddle time I got cost twenty-five cents at the local five-and-dime.”

He had something else that she could ride, as soon as she got the baby back to sleep. It was too early for Dante to stay up. Next time, though, he’d be ready to play. Meanwhile, Matteo had plans for his own twofer. Get dirty in the shower with Beth and get ready for Italian Fest.

They’d cleaned up before bed, but shower sex was one of his favorite ways to start the day, and Beth seemed to enjoy it almost as much as he did.

She finally got the baby put back down. Straightening her robe, she turned from the crib and caught him watching her.

“Come ‘ere,” he said softly, holding out his hand.

He led her across the hall, past her bed and into her en-suite. Technically, he supposed it was their room, but he still felt like a visitor. His clothes were at his house. Beth had never seen it. Next week, he told himself. Right now, he had one thing on his mind, and that was getting Beth naked in the shower.

She seemed open to the idea of them sharing again. When he had turned on the taps and was reaching for the waistband of his silk boxers, she had already taken off her robe. Grabbing some towels, he stashed them on the stool by the door and pulled his now-naked fiancée into the shower with him.

Fiancée. It was new enough, it still felt strange. But she’d just taken the proof off her finger and laid it on her side of the double-sink vanity.

His mother had been a big believer in fate and guiding forces. Maybe she was the reason that he was at the convenience store when he was. A minute later, and he’d have missed Beth’s conversation with the clerk. A minute later, and he wouldn’t have taken her. He wouldn’t have screwed her, and they wouldn’t have a son.

He just had to be careful to not give her another one right now.

He’d been half-hard in the nursery, looking at her bared breasts and watching her nurse the baby. Now his cock was leaking pre-cum and demanding attention.

Matteo wrapped his fingers around his shaft. Stroking it, he gave each pull a twist on the end, working more pre-cum from the slit.

Beth’s eyes were glued. She wet her lips and swallowed hard.

Because he was feeling generous, he let her choose. “Pick one,” he said. “Your mouth or your ass.”

She dropped to her knees and opened wide.

He sank his length into her waiting mouth, not stopping until he was hitting the back of her throat and she was struggling to not gag. “I know you can do better than that, angel,” he chided. Fisting her hair, he pushed in deeper, giving her time to adjust—not because he was considerate that way. He just wasn’t in the mood for gag reflexes.

She raised herself up a bit. Changing the angle of her neck let her take him deeper down her throat. Once he got started really fucking her face, it didn’t take long to come. She wrapped her lips around his shaft and sucked him dry, swallowing furiously when he shot his wad across her tongue.

As blowjobs went, he’d put it at an eight. She got an E for effort, but her technique had room for improvement. Still, she could deep throat his dick. Not every woman could.

* * *

He finished dressing before Beth and made his way down to the kitchen, drawn by the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. Pouring himself a cup, he went over plans for the day with Bernardo and kept glancing at the door, waiting for his woman to show him the dress that he’d bought.

When she finally did show, she was wearing a pair of thigh-highs on her legs and a look of trepidation on her face. “I have to layer,” she explained. “It’s too cool this morning not to.”

Layering just meant more to peel off as the day warmed. Outerwear, then underwear.

Fuck, yeah.

After breakfast, it took a solid twenty minutes to load everything in her SUV and head out for the park. Beth was a fucking girl scout, prepared for every contingency. Extra clothes, diapers, kid’s books, toys, bug spray, sunscreen for her and the baby, a golf umbrella for shade. She brought a quilt to sit on and a battery-operated fan to use when the mercury climbed higher than the baby was used to.

Worst case scenario, the Ribelle tour bus was air-conditioned. They could stay long enough to get relief from the heat, but his father expected them to be visible and mingle with the crowd. Except for having Bernardo as a bodyguard, they’d look like any other young family.

Unable to pick one, Beth had packed a stroller, a kangaroo pouch thingy, and Dante’s pumpkin seat. They started out with the first. Matteo hauled it outside the SUV, but Beth knew how to get it ready to go. After completely filling the storage racks, Beth bundled the baby against the early morning chill, tucked him in the stroller, did a one-eighty, and started pushing him like a pro.

She chatted as they walked. “If it were up to me, I’d carry him on my chest until it warms up a bit, but your father wants to show him off. That said, I must admit, it does help to not have to carry everything.”

Beth was wearing a broad-brimmed hat and a soft, summer-weight sweater with her new dress and those tempting thigh-highs. She was a practical woman, protecting her skin and keeping warm, but she still managed to be stylish doing it. Right now, her waist-length hair undulated in loose curling waves down her back. Somewhere in all the stuff that she’d brought was a pair of carved jade picks that she used for her hair. With temperatures in the low nineties today, she would eventually put it up to keep cool.

By then, her thigh-highs would be off.

Maybe her panties, too.

Matteo’s brothers and father were already at the starting line, waiting for the survivor’s walk to begin. Dom Visconti was in his element. Today, he was head of the family and a community leader where Italian Fest was concerned. Val looked bemused by the groupies swarming Marco and Tony, wanting autographs and selfies. Their rock star brothers were only too happy to oblige. Chances were, more panties than Beth’s would be coming off today.

It was just one of the advantages of having their tour bus parked on the property. Matteo had already talked to the boys about using it when Beth needed to nurse the baby. Not that there was anything wrong with breastfeeding in public, but Beth was his. Those breasts were his. He didn’t want sleazebags like Carmine getting an eyeful of them.

The first runners had made it across the finish line before Dante needed tending.

“Come on,” Matteo whispered in Beth’s ear. “Ribelle’s bus has a place to sit and a bathroom to clean up. You’re not gonna find anything better out here.”

Beth didn’t argue. Pop had pegged her right. She was polite. Obedient. She knew how to keep her mouth shut. That independent streak occasionally showed itself, but he’d not yet seen how deep it went. It was early on for them. In time, he’d know every inch of her, inside and out.

To minimize the noise, Beth carried Dante against her shoulder. He pushed the stroller with Bernardo following. The tour bus security guard let them pass without a word. Bernardo stayed outside to watch the door and the stroller.

Matteo parked it beside the bus and eyed it skeptically. Beth had so much shit packed, it wasn’t funny. “What will you need?”

“The diaper bag. Here.” Rather than wait for him to find it, she handed him the squirming baby and got it herself.

“Home,” he hummed in Dante’s ear. The baby went still, listening.

Beth shook her head when he tried to swap the baby for the bag. “No, he’s quiet for you. Lead the way, Daddy.”

The bus was a deluxe model, with slide-outs that made it seem like a luxury hotel suite on wheels. Two long, black leather sofas flanked the sides of the living room. He stopped by one of them and waited for Beth to get situated before handing over Dante.

Matteo knew the drill a little better now. Beth got incredibly thirsty when she nursed. Knowing how she craved fluids, she pulled a bottle of water and a burping cloth from the bag before getting started.

She changed Dante’s diaper between sides. When he finished, he was ready for another nap.

Thankfully, they’d had no interruptions. His cousin Valentina was running the 5K, and Leonardo and Riccardo were probably still in their bunks, which was just as well. Not that they were any competition where Beth was concerned, but Ricky looked like Italian actor Guilio Burruti and larger-than-life Leo was an Italian version of Brock O’Hurn.

“Next week, I want you to check with the doctor and see about starting him on baby food.” He’d already left for a weekend seminar when she called yesterday. “We have four months until the wedding. That night, I want you in my bed until morning, with no interruptions. We need to be able to leave him overnight.”

Beth stiffened. For a second, he thought that she was going to argue with him, but she pressed her lips together, sealing in whatever she might have said. Swallowing her words, she took a breath and exhaled it slowly.

When she spoke, she kept her tone patently neutral “I need to wash my hands. Can you watch him, please?”

“Sure,” he said. “There’s a sink in the kitchen. The bathroom’s toward the back if you need to pee. Anything more, we gotta use the public restrooms or the johnnies. Rules of the bus.”

Beth was smart enough to figure it out. “Oh! Okay. I’ll just…go wash my hands…in the back.”

“Left side,” he told her. “Past the bunks.” The space opposite the bathroom was a mini-lounge with padded bench seating and a foldaway table. The boys said it was good for a midnight songwriting session or a quick fuck if they needed privacy. Two of their cousins were okay with watching, but they wanted to keep Valentina happy. The band had been struggling before Carmine’s little sister came on board as their drummer. Now they were represented by one of the best agents in the business and were working on their second album for their label. Life was good for Ribelle.

Good for him, too, he supposed. He had a son, a fiancée, and a successful restaurant. The only thing he was lacking was closure with Reaper, but that required finding the son of a bitch.

By comparison, weaning a baby should be a piece of cake.