She nodded jerkily. “Believe it or not, I’m glad you’re here now.”
His gut twisted. “As am I.”
Chapter 11
“YOU’RE STILL UP?” Three nights after their conversation in the pool, Fiero strode into the living room to find a lamp on and a body huddled into the corner of the leather sofa. Elodie, halfway through her book, pressed a finger into the page to hold her spot and nodded.
“What time is it?”
“Almost midnight.”
A smile lifted the corner of her lips. “It’s a good book.”
“Apparently. What is it?”
She held it up so he could see – the cover showed the name of a famous crime writer and the image was of a little girl holding a teddy bear by its ear.
“I’ll read it when you’re finished.”
“You read?”
He laughed. “From time to time. Usually when I’m flying.”
She was surprised when he came to sit beside her on the sofa – they’d barely spoken since the night in the pool.
“You’ve been at your grandmother’s?”
He nodded, a frown on his features.
“With your brothers?” She prompted, curious now about this side of his life.
“Si. Massimo – Max – and Luca.”
She considered this. “I thought you had more brothers than that?”
“No.”
“On the internet, when I googled you, after you…when I found out I was…” she swallowed, not wanting to bring up the discovery of her pregnancy, for how it could lead to a conversation that inevitably sparked discord between them. “I thought there was someone else? Nico?”
“Ah.” Fiero’s smile set a firework off in her belly. “Nico is my cousin. But yes, we were raised almost as brothers. There’s Raf and Gabe as well. Six of us lived at my grandparents’, when we weren’t at school.”
Elodie was quiet as she digested this.
“We have another cousin.” Fiero’s face clouded for a moment. “Sam. Samir. But I’ve only met him once, at my grandfather’s funeral.”
Elodie shifted a little, angling her body towards Fiero’s without really meaning to. “Why?”
“My grandfather refused to acknowledge him. I know it pained Yaya but Gianfelice tended to call the shots.” The words brought a deep frown to Fiero’s handsome face and Elodie had a ridiculous urge to reach over and smudge her fingertips across his lips. Three nights ago, in the pool, she’d wanted to wipe away his grief any way she could. Knowing that she’d instead been an instrument of more grief was a burden almost too heavy to bear.
“Why?”
“So many questions,” he murmured teasingly and her heart jolted.
“I didn’t mean to pry.” She moved once more, this time as if to stand up, but he reached out and put a hand on her knee, stilling her, and sending a shockwave of awareness bolting through her.
“You’re not.” It was a gruff admission. “My family is now your family. Or Jack’s, at least.”
Her stomach shifted – first in pleasure and then in anxiety, at the subtle distinction he made.