“Not so much,” I warn, but it's too late. He holds the spoon out, Izzy reaches, and takes the whole thing in her fist, spattering us both with yogurt. “Crap.” Izzy uses both hands on the handle to force what’s left into her mouth, or at least in the right direction. She smacks her lips like its ambrosia.
Bear chuckles at the white drops all over my front. “You know, that kind of reminds me of that night we met.”
It takes me a second to realize what he’s saying. “Oh my God!”
Viking’s attention is focused completely on Izzy. He learned from his mistake, and the next spoonful has only a little bit on it, and while Izzy can't mash it all over her face like the last time, she accepts the spoonful happily. By the time the yogurt cup is empty, Viking's got a best friend for life, from the way Izzy's looking at him.
“All right, I need to get the wet wipes, they’re—”
My phone dings from the mesh basket on the stroller. Bear’s closest, and he grabs it without asking, probably to pass to me. Unfortunately, it doesn't get that far before he looks at the screen.
“Who the fuck is Dario?”
The phone dings twice more before he holds the screen up so I can see. The last three messages are still showing as notifications on the lock screen.
Stop playing coy, Alessa. I need to talk to you.
I know you're seeing my messages. Don't fucking string me along, bitch.
Baby, fucking answer me. Don't make me come looking.
“Baby? You got a man you forgot to tell us about?” Bear snarls. He’s usually so easy going, it’s easy to overlook his potential for damage, but right now I can see how he fits in just fine with the others.
“What the fuck?” Viking grabs the phone so he can look.
“No! Jesus, no.” God, how do I explain Dario without them overreacting? “He’s nobody, just a guy.”
“Does he know that? Because if this fucker is bothering you, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing he does.”
Yeah, exactly what I'm afraid of. “No one. It’s complicated. A Family thing, you know? I'll just block him.”
“The fuck you will. Not without explaining. No fuck talks to the mother of our baby like that. Say the word and we’ll make sure he never fucking bothers you again.” Viking obviously doesn't just mean a stern talking-to. Why is it that when Dario talks like that I'm filled with ice cold fear, but when Viking does it, it makes me want to drag him home and show my appreciation?
“We'll put him in the fucking ground,” agrees Bear, taking Izzy so I can grab a wipe and clean up. Her baby giggles seem out of place over his harsh words. This Bear isn’t cuddly, he’s primal. Dangerously protective.
“Dario’s a Fabbri.” Their expressions darken, so I rush to explain before they charge off and create a mess wet wipes can’t handle. “We grew up together, more or less. He's a few years older and was kind of like a big brother to me when I was little. I looked up to him a lot then. He was always so ambitious and determined to make his mark.”
Viking points at my phone. “That doesn't sound like any fucking big brother I've ever met. Not without wanting to smash his face in, at least.”
“No. It’s complicated. I don’t know how much of our structure you guys know about.” They shrug. “The Fabbris are powerful, but the Giordanos are older, more respected. At some point, he decided that we were going to be more than friends, and his family keeps pushing the idea that we’re destined for each other because marrying me could give him a lot of legitimacy when he’s ready to take over. He’s just waiting for me to finish my studies before I—I don't know.” I wipe at the yogurt on my shirt, but all I manage to do is make the stain bigger. “It’s all bullshit. My father hates the Fabbris even more than he hates me not listening to him.”
“Does Dario know about Izzy?”
“No! God, that would be a disaster. If he found out someone—or someones”—I look between him and Bear—”knocked me up, he'd be out for blood.”
“I'd like to see him fucking try.” Bear's growl resonates deep in his chest.
Viking nods. “We'll tear his fucking skin off and dump him in the sewers for the rats to chew on.”
Jesus. I put my hands over Izzy’s ears, which she thinks is hilarious. “Guys, no skinning, please.”
Most sensible girls would freak out at how vicious they are, but there's something reassuring about finally having found men who might be able to stand up to the kind of baggage my last name brings. On the other hand, now I have to think of Family members getting broken instead. Why are men such animals?