Indiscretions of a God
Page 27
“Because I don’t want to mess up my daughter’s sleep schedule.” I pull Ariadna in front of me, and sink my elbows onto her shoulders. “Meet Ariadna Colombini di Nascimbeni,” I murmur, purposely leaving out “Santa.” My little girl is best off not being judged by the infamous side of her family.
Sister Margaret sucks in a breath. “I didn’t know you had a child?”
I nod contentedly. “Ariadna was born and raised in Il Veneto. Weren’t you, tesoro? But now it’s my turn. I finally get to be her father.”
The hardness leaves Sister Margaret’s gaze.
“We’re here with gifts for the little ones,” I say. “Hats this time. My chicks have been busy.”
“Your chicks.” Sister Margaret doesn’t roll her eyes at me in her subtle nun way today. Instead, her focus sinks to Ariadna. “Do you crochet?”
Ariadna bobs her head rapidly, holding the bag open for the nun to look inside. “I made two of the purple ones, and the yellow one with a butterfly on the side. Zia Tatiana, my daddy’s girlfriend, made one too, but my grandma made the rest of them. She’s really good at it.”
“See? My chicks.” I give Sister Margaret an insolent smirk, and there she goes, finally unleashing her customary eye roll.
“Ah, d’accordo. You can visit my babies. But only this once, okay? The hospital doesn’t condone visitors that aren’t family. I believe you know of the website where you can donate money? That is our preferred method of—”
“Grazie, Sister Margaret.”
“Don’t you grazie me. It’s not for you that I let you in. It’s for her.” She bends just enough to shape a wrinkled hand to my daughter’s peachy cheek. “Mr. Nascimbeni?”
“Yes, gorgeous?”
“Don’t touch the babies.”
“Of course not.”
Kristen isn’t here anymore. She’s been dismissed from the hospital. Her mother and father must be thanking the Lord for the miracle of putting her to bed themselves each night, safe, whole, and healthy in their home. I know I do.
Tesoro is still here. The incubator has made her stronger since the last time I saw her. She’s asleep, bird-heart fluttering against the thin skin of her ribs. A miniature bubble forms on the rosebud of her lips with each exhale, and it makes Ariadna laugh.
“She’s so cute! I wish I could hold her.”
I shoot a glance through the window, scanning the corridor for the good sister. I don’t see her anymore. As always, Sister Margaret trusts me with her little ones.
Gently, I clasp Ariadna’s neck and steer her toward the sink. Once there, I spray our hands full of soap. We count down, eyes on the wall clock while we scrub for two full minutes and rinse off. She giggles as I clumsily dry both of our hands with paper towels. With my elbow, I press out a dollop of disinfectant for each of us. “Just pat the foam into your hands and wave at me.”
We stand here, my daughter and I, smiling and waving our hands dry together. “Ciao. There you are,” I say.
“Yes, Pappa. Here I am.”
I stack two pillows on top of the chair in front of Tesoro’s Snow-White bed, Ariadna’s name for the incubator. I help my daughter on top of it so she’s kneeling. Next, I show her the small hole where she can reach inside and pat the baby’s arm.
Her face is made of awe when she looks up at me. “She’s so soft—and warm!”
“Good. She should be cozy in there, right?”
Ariadna nods, a smile spreading the way Gabriela’s does. But her eyes shine like mine did in the mirror this morning.
“You know Sister Margaret, huh?”
“I do. She’s sick of me.” I grin.
“Mostly she loves you. I was in a place like this, sai, Pappa?”
“I do know,” I say, and that is how it begins. I’ve dreamed of this moment since the day I learned of Ariadna’s birth. I’ve imagined sitting here, telling my daughter every fragment of her story the way it’s been for me.
I tell her how her mother and I were young, thoughtless, but never once doubted our love for her.
I tell my daughter of my years at the St. John’s NICU.
I tell her the truth, that each caress I gave was for her.
The money I gave to the hospital was for her, the hats, the booties, the hours sitting close to fluttering bird hearts, soaking in their fragility, watching them grow stronger.
I tell her I’ve watched them come and go from the hospital, because there’s nothing I regret more than not being able to do that for her.
I tell my daughter of the lullabies murmured in a hoarse voice, late at night. I don’t tell her that sometimes I was drunk.
“Which were they?” she whispers, eyes still on Tesoro.
“Oh many, many, but there was this one I sang a lot to you.” I hide my smile behind my hand, rubbing my nose like I itch.
“Sing it,” she pleads.
“Now?”
“Yes, sing it for Tesoro and me.”
I clear my throat. Start to hum the melody. I do it until my pitch doesn’t give to the splendor of our moment any longer.
Fa la ninna, fa la nanna
Nella braccia della mamma
Fa la ninna bel bambin,
Fa la nanna bambin bel,
Fa la ninna, fa la nanna
Nella braccia della mamma.
I smile to my miracle. Gracefully, Ariadna pulls her little hand out of the incubator. She slides off the pillow, opens her arms to me, and I lift her to my lap, closing my eyes when she folds her hands around my neck.
“Pappa”, she whispers.
“Yes, my treasure?”
“That was always my song.”
Many of the characters in Indiscretions of a God have their own books.
Their stories are full of humor, love, hard choices, and unexpected twists. For more, click the links below.
Isaias, Tatiana, Silvina, Gioele ++: Mobster Prince (Standalone book 4 in the Porn Star Boyfriend series)
Ciro Silveira: The Truth about Porn Star Boyfriends (Standalone book 1 in the Porn Star Boyfriend series)
Luka, Belen: Twin Savage (Standalone book 2 in the Porn Star Boyfriend series)
Bo, Nadia, Emil, Zoe: Walking Heartbreak (Standalone book 1 in the Indie-rocker series)
Emil, Zoe, Aishe, Troy: In the Absence of You (Standalone book 2 in the Indie-rocker series)
Aishe, Troy, + +: TBA (Standalone book 3 in the Indie-rocker series, expected release Fall 2018)
Night Shifts Black, Tracing Holland, Viper, and Limelight: epic rock-star romance standalone series by Alyson Santos.
Porn Star Boyfriend, book #4
I never asked for the crown of a mafia prince,
but from the moment my elder brother left,
my father’s expectations landed on me.
In high school, I was the reigning terror,
The troubled youth, the hated son no principal dared to punish.
I was the exotic ADHD flash of don’t-give-a-damn the girls flocked to,
while all I’ve ever cared about is Silvina.
I’ve loved her since I can remember.
I’ve tried to convince her—I’ve tried every angle.
It’s like salt to my wounds, but I can’t let a day go by without seeing her.
I get it. I do understand why she can never be mine.
She’s not as brave as me, Ina mia, Silvina of my heart.
So here I am, Gioele di Nascimbeni,
A mobster prince with time to kill and nothing to lose.
Why not use my biggest talent to blow people’s minds?
My brother owns the biggest adult entertainment company in L.A.
He wants me nowhere near it. Thankfully, his competition does.
I audition for Harmony Femme. Land a contract.
I’ll be mobster prince no more, no, soon I'll be the prince of sin!
But when Silvina disappears, my world is thrown upside down.
COMING APRIL 2018
As always, thank you so much to my amazing author besties and editors for helping me polish this book into what it is today. Indiscretions of a God was a different kind of story to tell for me, with a lot of action mixed in with the love story. It was such a blast that my next book in the series is turning into quite the romantic suspense too!
First of all, Lynn Vroman. I cannot thank you enough for your suggestions, edits, and excitement over this novel. You make me giddy and happy, and I feel that for each book, you gently push me one step forward toward my potential as a writer. Dawn McIntyre, I adore you for reading and editing on such a short notice—during the busiest time of the year, no less! Alyson Santos, you get my brain like no other. Thank you for loving and editing exactly what I needed. You’re amazing! D Nichole King, you’re always there for me. This journey, it continues, doesn’t it? I’m so happy to be on it with you. Cheryl McIntyre, you pulled through again, discovering those last little essential issues I needed for this book baby to become what it is. Thank you!
My beta readers, Renee McMillan and April Martin—thank you for always reading and loving! I adore you!!!
Sunniva’s Angels and loyal bloggers: you’re always there to help spread the word about my cover reveals, releases, and sales. You know who you are, you beautiful, beautiful girls and boys who make my books visible in the jungle of the indie market. You mean everything!
Finally, there’s you, sweet reader. Writing is life, it’s breathing, exhaling emotions and thoughts, but what would it be without you there to inhale it? Thank you!
Sunniva Dee is a reader, a lover of everything beautifully written no matter the genre. As an author, she pens flawed characters and seeks the flip side where the soul hides. Once there, she wants to be pulled out of her comfort zone by stories taking on a life of their own.
Sunniva has written paranormal and young adult. She’s committed contemporary romance verging on erotica, and she’s dabbled in supernatural mystery. But her heart is rooted in new adult of the true kind: young adult all grown up, with conflicts and passions that are familiar to college-aged readers and readers who remember those days like they happened last night.
Pandora Wild Child
Leon’s Way
Adrenaline Crush
Walking Heartbreak
In the Absence of You
Rocker Shenanigans
Dodging Trains
The Fighter and the Baroness
The Truth about Porn Star Boyfriends
Twin Savage
Indiscretions of a God
Mobster Prince (May 2018)
Path of Thieves
Shattering Halos
Stargazer
Cat Love
Copyright © 2018 by Sunniva Dee
Cover design by Monika McFarlane
Interior design by John Gibson
1st edition January 16th, 2018
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