SILVIO
I glanced at the baby crawling on the carpet, drooling and sporting a smile at me. He let out a high-shrieked laughter as he crawled over towards me.
The sides of my lips curled into a smile as I watched him grip a fistful of the fabric of my black pants, using it as an aid to slowly stand on his feet. It was a bit wobbly and shaky, but he'd done it.
Something soft gripped my heart and squeezed. Shit, I was proud of him.
"Marcello." I murmured, reaching down to take him into my arms.
I was still a bit uneasy about holding him, but Finley had slowly convinced me over the last two months that it was perfectly fine. I wasn't going to drop him or hurt him.
I didn't know shit about kids, or this kid. All I knew was he took a liking to me every time I visited, and he laughed around me. That was it.
I liked it. Liked the fact that I could put a smile to someone's face by existing.
He took my thumb in his and attempted to put it in his mouth, but I shook my head. "Not for eating, piccolino."
Another high-shirked laughter when I denied him my thumb but regardless, he cooed. I brushed a palm down his head full of black curls, my heart warming with an unknown feeling.
I inhaled a deep breath before placing him back on the carpet to crawl and go about his day. I rose from the couch, twisting my head to take in the sight of Octavius who'd been quietly watching me.
I knew what he was thinking, shit, I'd been thinking about it since the minute I held Marcello, but it was a bad idea.
A very bad idea.
"What?" I asked, my voice coated with irritation. He shook his head, running a palm down his beard with a suspicious smile. "Piss off."
He walked over to Marcello, running a hand down his hair and smiled softly. He watched his son crawl around, cooing and screaming for a minute before departing.
He walked over to where I was standing, propping a hip against the kitchen island.
I raised a brow but said nothing. "You know," he started, glancing over at Marcello. "You would make a good dad."
"Don't know about that."
"I think so."
I rolled my eyes ignoring the urge to tell him to fuck off. "Sure."
He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the sight of Finley walking through the front door. His whole demeanor changed into something much softer, relaxed as she walked into his line of sight and sought for him.
He wrapped a hand around her waist, twirling her around and kissing the shit out of her.
I shifted my gaze, feeling the urge to take my leave because they were the sort of couple that were very open with public displays of affection.
When I'd first seen them together, I was haunted by the feeling of jealously, this craving to have something they did but now, fuck, I did.
My little angel of a liar.
"Hi, Sil." The little principessa greeted with a soft smile, hands wrapped around her husband's torso.
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"Hey." I murmured gruffly. Scratching the side of my head, I glanced back at the door with anticipation bubbling in my stomach like powder puffs. "Where's—"
Traces of amusement lingered in those brown eyes. "She's on her way, don't worry."
I nodded. I wasn't worried. Was I?
I glanced down at my feet, the anxious tapping of my Italian shoes against the tiles and the nervous ticking of my jaw every second.
Shit, I was fucking worried. More like on edge. I hadn't seen her all day since I left her apartment this morning and she'd been asleep when I left for the casino this morning.
It was a foreign feeling because I'd woken up with her body on top of me, wrapped around mine—the woman was a snuggle person—and I'd been hesitant to leave.
I wanted to wake her up just to indulge in her attention before I left this morning, but I also felt like a shitty person because I'd kept her up for most of the night.
We'd been dating for two months now after she gave me a chance again. We were taking things very slow and doing this dating shit the right way.
The first month was a lot of trust-building. She didn't trust me with her heart, and I couldn't blame her. I'd hurt her in many different ways. She kept me at a distance, didn't want to let me in and I'd waited. Waited until she was healed and back on her feet.
I worked hard for her trust, showed her I was worthy of her love and patiently waited until she slowly started trusting me again. It'd only been two months and she wouldn't kiss me, yet which was killing me.
She wanted her fucking movie-worthy kiss and claimed not to kiss men who smoked.
I spent as much time as I could with her when I wasn't working and some days, she had to drag me out of her apartment to go to work.
After what happened with Marco, I wanted to protect her, cling close to her like a fucking rabid dog because I couldn't bear the thought of her life dangling like a prized possession for my enemies.
I understood the possessiveness Octavius often felt because shit, I was like that as well. Didn't want to see her with any other man, didn't want to leave her with Tommaso, didn't want to spend a single second away from her.
It was bad. Insane but I guess love did make you do stupid shit.
The sound of the front door opening distracted me, scrambling my thoughts and I'd shifted my gaze to the sound.
Fuck. I caught a glimpse of those soft brown eyes first before I heard her.
I couldn't help myself from soaking in the sight of her, trailing my gaze down her body and smiling to myself. In typical Presley fashion, she was wearing a white tank top covered by a baby pink blazer with a pleated pink mini skirt.
She looked good. Flawless smooth brown skin, thick thighs, and those lips.
I didn't know what fucking lipstick she used—or a lip combo as she called it—but I loved it.
Her pouty lips were darker around the top and coated with a soft pink gloss which made me want to take her bottom lip in mine and just fucking bite it.
Downright ridiculous.
She caught my lustful gaze with a teasing smile before heading for Marcello. Finley was carrying him in her arms, speaking in a soft baby voice as she watched him.
