Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
When it’s time to get ready for her surprise party, I wake Anya with a soft kiss. I’m not confident enough on my feet yet to give Claire a bath. I’m too scared I’ll lose my balance and drop her in the water. I let Anya take care of the task.
As I put out the fire, more laughter comes from the kitchen where Livy and Dante blend some hangover fix. Just as I put the protective screen back in front of the fireplace, they return with their remedy in hand.
I eye the green muck in their glasses. “Are you sure that’s going to work?”
Livy giggles. “Like a charm.”
I straighten from my crouched position, trying not to show how much my knee is bothering me. “It sounds as if you’re talking from experience.”
She smiles coyly. “Oh, I am.”
I suppress a grimace when pain shoots up my leg. “At least you’ll be sober for the party.”
“Don’t worry.” Dante meets my gaze with an unspoken message in his. “I can handle my liquor. I know when to stop.”
Meaning he’s sober enough to protect our girls if anything happens, although, with Raphael hiding like a coward, it’s unlikely. Still, we never take anything for granted.
“Me too,” Livy says. “I was doing shooters before the two of you were born.”
My words hold a warning. “Just make sure Anya’s party goes as planned. I don’t want anything to spoil it for her.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Livy says, shooting me an accusing look as she brushes past me on her way to the door. “I’m going to get dressed. We don’t want to be late.”
Staring after her, I say, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Dante’s tone is sarcastic. “Maybe that you should practice what you preach?”
I turn on him. “What the fuck?”
“We’re all doing our part.” He watches me with an expressionless face before he follows in Livy’s footsteps. “Just make sure you do yours.”
The allegation hangs in the air when he’s gone, turning the atmosphere sour.
“I’m doing my damn best,” I mutter to the empty space, convincing no one but myself.
With everyone busy getting ready, I call Nicole from the privacy of the closed deck to check that the party setup is running smoothly. She tells me not to worry and to get off the phone so that she can get on with overseeing the decorators and caterers.
“Oh,” she exclaims. “The musicians just arrived.” With a hurried, “Ciao,” she ends the call.
Fifteen minutes before we have to go, I knock on the bedroom door to give Anya a heads-up that we’ll leave soon. She opens the door wearing a turquoise dress that…fuck. It takes my breath away. Thin diamanté straps run over her shoulders. The bodice is tight, hugging her generous breasts. The cut emphasizes her narrow waist and the gentle curve of her hips. Layers of voile fall softly around her legs and end just above her ankles to bare her strappy diamanté heels. Her make-up is light enough to accentuate instead of dominate her beautiful natural features. She left her hair down and dried it in waves. A diamond clip keeps a few wisps on the side in place. The dark ruby color catches the overhead light, shining like a river of silky red flames. Her eyes shine like the most brilliant suns, their color like molten gold. Her scent wafts to me, that smell of summer and sunshine I find so addictive.
“Anya.” I take her in, my mouth suddenly dry. “You look beautiful.”
Beautiful is an inadequate word that doesn’t do her justice, but my mind has gone blank. I’m incapable of coming up with a more appropriate compliment because I can’t focus on anything other than the gorgeous woman in front of me.
“Thank you,” she says, her tone polite. “The bathroom is all yours.”
Without another word, she picks up Clair, who’s strapped into a baby rocker, and slips around me into the hallway.
My tone is brusque, carrying the frustration that eats into my gut. “Anya.”
She pauses and looks at me.
“Stop avoiding me, tesoro.” What’s supposed to sound like an appeal for reason comes out more like a threat. “You can’t run away from me if we’re living in the same house.”
Lifting her chin, she manages to look down at me from her meagre height. “I’m not running, Saverio. I decided to stay out of my own free will, remember?”
With that, she gives me her back and walks away.
The words hit me straight in the chest. She’s given me everything I wanted—no, more. She gave me her body and her heart as well as her consent. It’s more than I could ever have hoped for. Yet the joy and victory I should feel evade me. The reason for that is simple. My treasure isn’t happy, and when she’s unhappy, so am I.