I jerked my head back, forcing him to drop his hand. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Turning, I found my usual seat and sat down, grabbing the book I’d been reading all week. I turned my focus to Ryan, blocking out his father completely. “How was your day?” I asked him softly. This was our routine. I asked him about his day, and every night, he told me a little more.
“I played hide-and-seek with Zariah and Ciana today,” he informed me with a slight twitch of his lips. “Ciana is really good at hiding. I couldn’t find her. Zayne had to help me, and we still couldn’t find her.”
My eyes widened as I knew he expected them to. “Where was she?”
“She was sleeping under her papa’s bed. But that means she cheated. We aren’t supposed to go into our papas’ bedrooms or office. Zariah was so mad, she screamed for her papa. But Ciana didn’t get in trouble.” He seemed relieved.
“I’m glad you found her and that she didn’t get in trouble. Other than that, did you have fun?”
He nodded, his brow furrowed as if he were surprised. “Yeah. Then we ate cookies. My favorite. Chocolate chip with peanut butter. What’s your favorite cookie?”
“Pryaniki,” I told him. “The homemade kind, though. Not store-bought.”
“Pran—what?”
I grinned. “Pryaniki. It’s a Russian cookie with honey and spice. And coffee. Lots of coffee. You might not like them, though. But I would love to try those chocolate chip cookies with peanut butter. Maybe we can make some together one day.”
“Yes!” He answered so quickly, I laughed. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” I glanced at Cristiano, asking permission with a look. He nodded and Ryan cheered. “Okay,” I promised the boy. “I’ll have to rearrange a meeting, but I’ll come earlier tomorrow and we can bake cookies before you have to go to bed.”
“Yay! Thanks, Anya! You can go, Papa,” Ryan instructed his father. “Anya is going to read to me now.”
“Right. I’m being kicked out in favor of a beautiful woman. I completely understand.” Cristiano went back to the bed and kissed the top of his son’s head. “Sweet dreams, figlio.”
As he always did, he left the door slightly ajar when he left, which made Ryan relax a little more every time. I opened the book, found the chapter we’d left off on, and began reading.
Half an hour later, Ryan was lightly snoring, and I was just sitting there watching him. There were still a hundred things to do back at Iron Hand tonight, but I was reluctant to leave. I wanted to crawl into bed beside him and cuddle him all night, smell that clean little-boy hair and protect him from the monsters that haunted his dreams.
In a different lifetime, another world, Ryan could have been my son, and he never would have a reason to fear anyone. Ever.
But he wasn’t my son. I couldn’t keep him from being scared of others, but I would damn sure never give him a reason to fear me.
Quietly, I replaced the book on the small shelf beside the toy chest and stood. I walked out of the room, and as I expected, Cristiano was standing just outside. He didn’t say a word as I closed the door, didn’t so much as move, but I could feel him. His eyes traveled over me from head to toe and back again. The hunger in his gaze made me quake on the inside, but I refused to let him see the effect he had on me with just a look.
I didn’t speak to him as I headed for the stairs. There was nothing I wanted to say to him. Nothing I wanted to hear from his lips.
“He’s sleeping better,” he called in a quiet voice as I reached the top step. “A little more every night. The night terrors have lessened. He doesn’t wake up screaming as many times a night, and last night he slept a solid five hours before waking up crying.”
My heart squeezed, a lump filling my throat, making it impossible to speak.
“You’re good for him, Anya.” My eyes clenched closed as his voice caressed me like a physical touch. “He needs you. I need you.”
Unable to listen to another word from him, I rushed down the stairs and straight out the front door to my car. But his words followed me.
I need you.
What a fucking joke.
He hadn’t needed me for five years.
He didn’t need me now. It was just proximity. I was around, he was horny, and he thought pretty words would make me fall back into his arms and bed.
Fuck that.
Fuck him.
I wasn’t that weak.
I wasn’t.
Chapter 7
Cristiano
Ciro stood at the window behind my desk, leaning his back against the frame so that he could see outside onto the well-lit grounds while still focusing on what was going on in my office. It was his usual stance when we were in a meeting. He rarely sat, but I didn’t mind him standing behind me like that. There were two men in the world and only two men I trusted to be at my back, and both were in the room.
Dante crossed his legs at the ankles, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. The last of the meetings finished earlier, but there were a few of the elder Dons whose animosity hadn’t sat well with me or my two best friends. The Dons were going to be trouble; I could sense it before the meeting even started earlier.
“I don’t think they have the numbers to unseat you,” Dante predicted. “They’ll just be a pain in the ass until we show them you’re in charge and won’t take shit off them.”
“Dante’s probably right. But it’s how big of a pain that I’m concerned with. I’ve been talking to Pop about them, and he’s sure they will strike where it hurts the most.” Ciro shifted, turning his head from the window to me. “Keep Ryan close. Don’t let him out of the compound walls for a while. Scarlett and the children are staying close to home as well. I’m adding more men to the twins’ detail to and from school. Dante?”
“I’ll add more men to Jenny’s security and talk to Allegra about staying home or only going to Victoria’s or here when she and the kids need to get out of the house. She’s not going to be happy, though.”
“My little cousin will get over it,” I assured him. “Just start working on baby number three.”
“We don’t need another kid,” Dante groaned. “Matteo caused big problems with her blood pressure. She was on bed rest for weeks before she finally went into labor with him. Scared the hell out of me a few times.”
“Blood pressure,” Ciro snorted. “That’s nothing, man.”
Dante and I both looked at him with lifted brows, waiting for him to continue. When he just clenched his jaw and stood there, we knew we weren’t going to get any more than that out of him. Damn it. I needed information on what the hell was happening with my sister.
“Okay, that’s it.” I stood, straightening my jacket as I did. “I want to know what is going on with Scarlett’s pregnancy. I want a straight answer.”
“She doesn’t want to talk about it right now,” Ciro informed me, not the least bit intimidated by my demands. “When she’s ready to discuss it with her family, we will.”
“At least tell me if it’s life-threatening,” I commanded. “I need to know that much, fratello.”
There was a flash of something in his eyes, but it was gone just as fast as it appeared, keeping me from deciphering it. “It isn’t. But…it could be if she’s not careful.”
“Fuck,” Dante muttered while I felt like my friend just punched me in the stomach. I sensed the color drain from my face, my stomach churning with dread. I was losing Pop; I couldn’t lose Scarlett too. “Are the babies in danger or just her?”
“Just her, mostly,” Ciro admitted, scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration.
“Is there anything we can do?” I asked, wanting to fight this battle for my sister and brother-in-law but knowing I couldn’t.
“You’re here. That’s enough.”
There was a small tap on the door. When it didn’t open, I knew exactly who it was and was thankful for the interruption of the tension in the room. I still didn’t know what was wrong with Scarlett, an
d now I was even more concerned for my sister.
Crossing the office, I opened the door and looked down at my son. “Yes, figlio?”
“Papa, Anya isn’t here yet. She said she would come earlier tonight.”
I crouched down to his level. “I know, Ryan, but it’s still early. There is plenty of time for her to get here before your bedtime.”
His little brow pinched in consternation. “But I want her to come now, Papa.”
I stroked a hand over his dark hair. “Me too, little man. Me too.”
“Will you call her? Please?” His eyes begged me, and I couldn’t tell him no. Not when I wanted to hear Anya’s voice.
Pulling out my phone as answer for him, I found her contact number and called. It barely rang before she was answering. “I’m stuck in traffic,” she said in greeting, her tone irritated. “Tell Ryan I’ll be there in fifteen.”
Before I could reply, the phone went silent, and I knew she’d hung up on me. Damn it. She wouldn’t even talk to me for a half a minute. The woman was driving me crazy. Returning my phone to my pants pocket, I grinned down at my son. “She’s on her way, figlio. Give her a little longer, yeah?”
“Can I wait for her by the front door, Papa? Please?” I’d barely nodded before he was running down the hall. “Thanks, Papa!”
Shaking my head but smiling at his excitement, I closed the office door and turned to face the others. Both wore bemused expressions as I retook my chair.
“Looks like Anya has woven her spell all over again,” Ciro commented dryly. “Now both Vitucci men are bewitched.”
“I’ll take Ryan being bewitched over anything else, any day of the week,” I admitted.
“It’s only been a little over a week, but I see some changes in the boy,” Dante observed. “He seems a little more confident to me. Is it really just because Anya has been reading to him every night?”
“No. It’s just because she’s Anya,” I muttered. “She’s good for Ryan. Letting him go at his own pace learning to trust her.”
“I’m just glad his nightmares haven’t been so intense the last few nights. Ciana has been climbing into bed with us after Ryan wakes her up. His being able to sleep has let me get some sleep too.”
I was thankful for the extra sleep I was getting too. It would have been better, however, if Anya were sleeping beside me. Fuck, that would make everything so much better.
The doorbell didn’t ring when she arrived. It never did. She just walked right in like she owned the place. She could have every damn inch of the house, the compound, the fucking cars, and the men who guarded the property if she wanted them. I would hand them all over willingly. All she had to do was be mine again.
It was the sound of giggles coming from the kitchen that told me where she was. Not Ryan’s laugh, but Zariah’s and Ciana’s followed by a squawk from Zayne seconds later. I pushed open the kitchen door, drinking in the sight that greeted me.
All four kids stood at the island in the middle of the room. Ciana and Zariah were on either side of Anya as she mixed cookie dough in a large glass bowl with a wooden spoon. Zayne stood to the left at one end of the island, while Ryan stood on the other side, across from Anya. He wasn’t laughing, wasn’t talking. Just standing there watching everyone else.
“All right, little Scarlett clones,” Anya instructed as she finished stirring. “You each added the ingredients. Zayne cracked the eggs. Now, Ryan gets to help me scoop the cookies out onto the baking sheet.”
“Ah, man,” Ciana grumbled. “You’re so lucky, Ryan.”
Anya’s lips twitched, but she already had her gaze on my son. “You ready, myshka?” He nodded but didn’t budge from his spot. Anya smiled across at him. “Right. Ciana, Zariah, trade places with your cousin.”
Without arguing, they went around to where Ryan stood. As they did, Anya grabbed an ice cream scoop out of a drawer, turning her back to them. I watched with bated breath, waiting to see if Ryan would move around the island and allow himself to be closer to her.
Slowly, he eased around the large island and stood two feet from where the bowl of cookie dough sat. A step stool was on the ground where Ciana used it earlier, and hesitantly, he climbed up. Anya turned back, placing the scoop on the counter a good six inches from him then stepping away, giving Ryan all the space he needed.
His brow furrowed in concentration, Ryan grabbed the scoop and dished out a small amount of cookie dough. But when he tried to empty it onto the baking sheet, he had trouble. “Anya, will you help me?” he asked after a minute or so passed of still not being able to figure out how to get the dough out on his own.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice soft and soothing as it always was with him.
He nodded solemnly. “Please?”
A lump filled my throat as I watched her step closer, but not so close that she was touching him. He didn’t tense like he did whenever Scarlett or Victoria approached him. His hands didn’t ball into fists. His complexion didn’t lose its color. He stood there, waiting, watching.
Trusting.
She took the scoop from him when he held it out and, using a small spoon, showed him how to unstick the dough so it fell perfectly into place on the baking sheet. “Want me to show you again?” He nodded, his eyes on what she was doing instead of drilling into her for being too close. “There. Just like that. Now you try.”
He did as she’d shown him. The cookie wasn’t as perfect as hers were, but all the kids beamed at him like it was the best-scooped cookie they ever saw. Anya clapped her hands. “Great job, Ryan. Let’s finish these up and get them in the oven. Then we can have one before everyone goes to bed.”
“Yay!” Ciana and Zariah cheered. “Can we have two?”
“One,” Anya said sternly. “Or your mom might not let me come back to do this again.”
“Fine,” Zariah muttered. “Just one, then.”
I swallowed my laugh and backed out of the kitchen, but my smile lingered as I climbed the stairs and went to my room for a quick shower. Anya had won over my son.
She was ours now. There was no disputing that.
And I was never letting her go.
Chapter 8
Anya
On the outside, I was nothing but smiles as I watched Ryan brush his teeth, nodding my head whenever he wanted me to agree with him on something. He was talking about everything, as if all the things had been bottled up inside him and he could finally let them out. On the inside, I was an emotionally jumbled mess.
He let me close, was still letting me close.
He didn’t look away from me for more than a few seconds at a time, as if he were afraid I was going to disappear or something.
After eating cookies with the other kids, I snuck us up a plate and two glasses of milk, and we ate on his bed. He made me promise not to tell his papa he was eating in bed, and I swore on my life I never would. It was our secret; I wouldn’t tell another living soul. That his father had been listening at the door didn’t count. Because I would take any secret this kid needed me to, to the grave.
After rinsing his mouth, he wiped his face with a hand towel and jumped down from the little step stool. “Will you tuck me in?”
My heart rate only spiked higher with happiness. “Really?”
He nodded. “Please?” He grasped my hand with his considerably smaller one, unknowingly making tears sting my eyes. Tugging, he pulled me toward the bed and climbed in.
I waited until he was comfortable before pulling the covers up over him and tucking them around him as I’d seen Cristiano do. Hiding how emotional I was, I smiled brightly down at him. “How was your day, l’venok?”
His brow instantly puckered. “What does that mean?”
I brushed a few locks of dark hair off his forehead. He flinched but didn’t recoil from my touch. “It means little lion. You remind me of one. So fierce and untamable, but also loyal. My Ryan is definitely a little lion.”
“I like that.” He yawned big and sank deeper
against his pillows. “Maybe our next book could be about a lion hero.”
“I’ll find us one,” I promised. His eyes were about to drift closed, but they instantly snapped open widely when I asked, “Are you too tired for me to read to you tonight?”
“No, no! I’m awake. I want you to read to me. Please?”
I stood and crossed to the small bookshelf where our book was. I started to sit in the beanbag chair, but he patted the bed beside him again. “Sit here, Anya.”
I was glad my back was to him, because it took me a few moments to get the lump out of my throat and to blink back the tears that tried to blind me. But when I returned to him, I was completely in control once again. I sat on the edge of the bed facing him, but he shook his head. “No. Sit here so I can see the pages too.”
I turned so my back was against the headboard and scooted closer a little at a time, making sure not to scare him. He let me get close enough that my side brushed his arm. He took hold of one side of the book while I held the other, and I began to read from where I’d left off the night before.
Soon, far sooner than I wanted, his eyes drifted closed and didn’t open again. I closed the book quietly and just sat there. This was the best part of my day. Watching him sleep always gave me a kind of peace I hadn’t realized I was missing.
This little boy had burrowed himself deep into my heart without even trying.
Knowing I had to leave to head back to work, I eased from the bed and replaced the book on its shelf. As I slipped out of the room, I left the door slightly ajar. It didn’t surprise me Cristiano was standing in his usual spot against the wall outside the door. As I turned, his eyes locked with mine, and I had trouble catching my breath for a second.
“Don’t go,” he urged in a quiet voice that caressed down my spine.
“I still have work to do at the club.” Forcing myself to move away from the door, I started for the stairs. As I passed him, he caught my arm, pulling me around to face him hard enough that I landed against his chest.
My entire body went hot at the feel of him against me. His scent filled my nose, hauntingly familiar. No one had ever smelled as good as Cristiano. I couldn’t even describe the scent other than it was earthy with a hint of sweetness, but it was one hundred percent all male.
Her Mafioso King (The Vitucci Mafiosos Book 4) Page 7