Bound by the Past (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 7) - Page 58

“Maybe it’s a good thing that you’ll be older. It’s a tough life.”

Fabiano grimaced and looked back down at Leonas who was trying to squirm out of his hold. “He isn’t happy on my arm.”

“He isn’t happy on anyone’s arm right now. He wants to crawl.”

Rocco Jr. on the other hand had fallen asleep in my arms. He had the dark eyes and hair of the Scuderi family, not Fabiano’s lighter looks inherited from his mother’s side of the family.

Rocco and Dante headed our way. Fabiano became tense at once but I only smiled.

“What’s going on?” Rocco asked pleasantly. That tone was one he used because Dante and I were around. I had a feeling his words would have been harsher if he’d been alone with Fabiano because the look he gave the boy was chilling.

“I asked Maria if I could hold your son for a little while, because he’s such a cute baby, and Fabiano had to help me with Leonas in the meantime, which he generously agreed to do. Right, Fabiano?”

Fabiano nodded. “Yes.”

Rocco frowned. “Where’s Maria?”

“She went to the restrooms. Oh, I asked her if we could meet once a week so our sons could grow up together. I hope you agree.”

The stern look was replaced by pride. “Of course.”

“I can take him now,” Dante said to Fabiano and took Leonas from him. Leonas briefly stopped his fussing but then he tried to get to the floor again. “He’s got his own head,” Dante said with a chuckle.

“You can give me my son now too, Valentina. I’m sure you’d like to grab a drink,” Rocco said politely, stretching out his hands. I had to stifle a snort. When I handed Rocco Jr. to him it became apparent that he didn’t hold him very often and only tried to imitate Dante. I didn’t comment.

Rocco knew what face to show to Dante and me, but I also knew how he was behind the closed door. When I’d still been in contact with Aria, she had admitted it to me.

I didn’t trust him one bit.Eight months laterLeonas stormed out of his room before I could grab him, completely naked. I rushed after him, laughing. “Freeze!”

He didn’t of course. It was his newest hobby to tear down his clothes and diaper, and run through the house until someone caught him.

My heart almost skipped a beat when he stumbled down the staircase. He was already very steady on his legs at seventeen months but steps were another matter.

Anna poked her head out of her room with wide eyes, a crayon in her hand as usual.

Leonas laughed even louder as he half fell down the stairs. Luckily Dante stood at the base of the staircase, probably alerted by the noise and snatched Leonas up before he could make a faceplant.

I caught my breath halfway down the staircase. “He’s quick.”

Dante scanned Leonas with an exasperated smile. “You have to listen to your mom and you need to keep your clothes on.”

Leonas giggled as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

Dante in his posh three-piece suite holding a butt naked Leonas was an adorable sight.

I was sweaty from trying to wrangle our son into clothes three times in a row.

Dante took one look at me then said. “How about I get him dressed?”

He walked up the stairs until he reached me then kissed my mouth, lingering a bit longer, the look in his eyes telling me he wished we had some alone time. I wasn’t sure what he found sexy about my sweaty look but didn’t care.

“Good luck,” I said. Leonas obeyed his father better than me but at the moment, he was testing his limits. “I’ll check on Anna. Her piano teacher comes over in thirty minutes and I have a feeling she hasn’t practiced her song yet.”

“Drawing again?” Dante asked as we walked up the stairs beside me. I was glad he worked from home often so he could be there for our children. Many fathers were mostly absent from their offspring’s life but that wasn’t something I wanted. Anna and Leonas both loved spending time with him.

“She’s talented. Maybe we should consider getting her an art teacher as well.”

Dante nodded. “That might be a good idea.” I gave Leonas a small wave before I headed into Anna’s room. As expected she sat at her desk, hunched over a piece of paper, drawing a flower field. She was only four but already focused and driven when it came to art.

She briefly looked up when I came in and squatted beside her. “This is beautiful, love. But did you practice your song for piano lessons?”

She smiled sheepishly as she peered up at me through her thick dark lashes. “Once.”

Her little keyboard lay discarded on her bed.

“Is that a fib?”

Her smile got even more sheepish.

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