“Always kicking,” I complain. “I’m going to have the most active baby imaginable.”
“That’s good. We’ll have big, strong babies. Boys or girls, whatever.”
“How progressive.”
“That’s me, a progressive crime lord.”
I laugh and kiss him as Kacia and Luca start preparing dinner. We have staff to cook and clean, but apparently, they got into cooking together. I sit at the kitchen counter with Peter and the four of us fall into a familiar, comfortable, easy conversation with lots of laughter, and I’m suddenly intensely aware of how fucking perfect this is.
My husband, my partner, my equal, my Peter. The father of my future baby. The love of my life. He’s sitting with me, laughing, grinning.
My best friend and her husband, cooking and telling stories.
This is what I worked so hard for. This, right here, in the house I worked for and earned with my own blood and sweat, this moment is heaven.
But the best part is knowing I’ll have more of these nights, so many more nights to come.
Peter pours the wine. He even gives me a few drops. “Just a little bit,” he says with a wink. “But don’t get any ideas.”
I punch his arm and he kisses me gently.
“Easy there, you two,” Luca says, pointing with his spatula. “I hope you’re both hungry.”
“Starving,” I say, and Kacia makes a joke about me always being hungry, and we laugh for a while, and for a while, life is perfect.
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Preview: Broken by Sin
Chapter One: Karah
When Papa finds out what I did, he’s going to kick me out of the family.
Well, probably not. I am his only daughter, after all, and he’s a big softie at heart. Casso says Papa’s too easy on me, and maybe he’s right, but mostly I think Casso’s jealous since Papa nitpicks every one of his mistakes. Sometimes it’s good to be the oldest boy, but sometimes it’s a lot harder.
Papa won’t toss me out on my own, but he’s definitely going to yell, and Papa’s terrifying when he yells.
I hold my head up high as I march down the long hall that snakes along the spine of the Bruno family home. We call it Villa Bruno, even though there’s nothing provincial about our massive block-sized home in the heart of the Arizona desert a half hour outside of Phoenix. It’s a beastly construction of glass, wood, and slate, designed by some famous architect that loves the Southwest, so there’s plenty of turquoise and cacti and big natural red rocks jutting out all over the property. It’s beautiful, but it’s deathly hot. The house is like a maze even to me and I grew up in it.
As I approach Papa’s study and prepare to get shouted down, a shadow steps out from the nearby rec room and pauses on my right. I slow and steel myself as Nico shows his perfectly white teeth and crosses his arms over his massive chest. Tattoos snake up his arms and disappear into his crisp white shirt. He’s always wearing suits, even in the oppressive desert heat. It’s like he doesn’t feel the temperature bearing down on him. Like his heart’s made of ice. I can’t remember ever seeing him sweat.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asks, his eyes sparkling.
I raise my chin and steel myself. I know that tone: Nico’s in the mood to make me feel like shit once again. Sometimes I wonder why he’s always hanging around—he’s not part of my family, at least not my blood family.
“Papa’s study. As much as I love our conversations, I can’t keep him waiting.”
Nico laughs softly and leans against the walls, studying me. He always does that—stares like I’m a piece of fine art hanging on a gallery wall waiting to be picked apart and analyzed. It’s disconcerting, and I can never seem to get away from his oppressive staring.
“I was just thinking about you, princess,” he says, head tilted, pretty lips pressed tightly together. “Your brother was talking about this little match of yours, and I’m curious how you’re going to weasel your way out of it.”
My jaw twitches but I don’t let the discomfort show. “Whatmatch?” I ask carefully.