Devil’s Thirst: A Mafia Stalker Romance (The Moretti Men Book 1)
Devil’s Thirst: Chapter 25

Amelie takes a quick shower after practice. She’s wearing baggy sweats when she comes out to eat the food we picked up on the way home. Maybe that’s simply what she’s most comfortable in, though I doubt it because I know what she wears to bed, and that’s not it. Unfortunately for her, if she’s trying to be unappealing, she’s going to have to work a hell of a lot harder than that.

“What’s your schedule for tomorrow?” I dive into my food, having waited to eat with her.

“Why, you going to shadow my every movement?”

“Maybe,” I say in a clipped tone, still frustrated over our argument.

She sighs, making me want to turn her over my knee. “We have rehearsal from one to four, then a dinner break before meeting back up for a six to eight session.”

“That works. I can drop you off at the theater before meeting with my cousin.”

She fiddles with a napkin. “What are you meeting with him for?”

“We’re going to talk about transitioning me back into the family business.”

“That’s good.” Her tone lightens.

“Hoping I’ll stick around?” I raise a brow.

“I just meant it’s good there’s no bad blood between you. That’s all.”

“Mmm.” The noncommittal sound is full of doubt.

She chooses not to challenge me and instead takes a quick bite of her parmesan chicken. I like watching her eat. I’m not even sure why except she goes at her food with genuine pleasure. And she wasn’t lying when she said she eats plenty. The waif of a girl can put away some food, and I’m here for it. Maybe even more than I should be. I’m starting to worry I’ve unlocked some kind of new kink.

When she licks the butter from her fingertips after a bite of garlic bread, I literally moan.

Amelie stills, her eyes rounding when she sees the ravenous desire in mine. “I thought you were pissed at me.” As if being pissed has anything to do with my dick.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck you.”

“Oh,” she breathes. And fuck if she doesn’t swipe her tongue over her lips. I bet she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.

She must realize she’s walking a fine line because she eats in record time and disappears to her room. I have to restrain myself from following her, which is even harder now that I’ve tasted her.

I set up camp on the sofa, but only after I’ve taken a shower that rivals a polar plunge. I’m not too worried, however, because I know Amelie won’t be able to resist me for long. She was already grappling with temptation. A couple more nights, and the sofa will be a thing of the past.

Six days. Six damn days, and we’re still locked in a contest of wills. The tension between us has built a little more each day, both of us holding our ground—she won’t give me a name, but I refuse to give up asking for it.

By the time Sunday rolls around, we’re both dangerously on edge. It’s not ideal, considering we have our first family function to attend together. Conner and Noemi’s twins are being baptized at evening Mass. I’m not looking forward to the attention, but at least it’s a distraction. And speaking of distractions, Amelie’s presence on my arm will help keep people from swooping in with questions about my time away and why I’ve returned. Overall, it’s a win.

When we arrive at the church, Noemi and Conner talk with family near the front of the church, each holding a swaddled infant.

“Sante!” Noemi’s face beams with happiness when she sees me. She excuses herself and comes over to greet us, Conner following her lead.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She gives us both one-armed hugs. “Hey, Amelie. How are you?”

“Really well, thanks.”

I’m shaking Conner’s hand when he lets out a muttered expletive and then shoves his baby into my arms. “Hold this for a second.”

I feel like I’ve been handed a live grenade. When my bewildered stare follows his retreating form, hoping to understand what the hell just happened, I see a little girl scaling the confessional wall like a squirrel. My sister and her husband have a daredevil on their hands.

And identical twin boys.

Guess it’s a good thing she’s got the patience of Job. She’s going to need it.

I smirk and look down at the sleeping baby in my arms. I’ve never held a baby before. I adjust him a bit so that he feels more secure, and I’ll be goddamned if I don’t instinctively start to sway back and forth.

When I look back at Noemi, her eyes are full of tears.

“What?” Why the hell is she crying? Did I do something wrong?

“I’m just so glad my family is back together again.”

Suddenly feeling on display, my eyes cut to Amelie. Yup, she’s eating up every second of this. Great. I don’t know how to respond to Noemi’s emotional display. I don’t understand it. Conner and the kids are her family. I’m just her kid brother, right?

When I look at the sincerity in her face, I wonder if she sees things differently.

“What are their names again?” I decide to stick to safer waters and focus on the kids.

“Roman and Ryder,” Noemi says, overflowing with motherly pride.

Amelie sidles closer and smiles at the baby in my arms. “How do you tell them apart?”

“I have anklets on them. Maybe it doesn’t matter if I end up mixing them up—no one would ever know, and I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened—but I feel better knowing definitively which is which. I’ve been assured that one of these days, I’ll be able to tell on my own. Until then, they get to wear jewelry.”

“You know they’re going to give you hell one day,” I tease.

Noemi’s smile wavers. “It makes me tired just thinking about it, especially when River is already such a handful. I don’t know how it happened, but I swear she’s Shae’s clone. I thought firstborn girls were supposed to be sweet, mild-mannered parent pleasers. Not her. She’s hell on wheels. That girl isn’t afraid of anything.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Good for her.”

My sister glares playfully. “Watch out, buddy. Karma’s a bitch.”

Conner rejoins us with a grinning toddler in his arms and an older couple in tow.

Noemi steps forward to welcome them. “Mia, Edoardo, we’re so glad you could make it.” She gives them each a side hug before the woman scoops Noemi’s twin from her arms while gushing praise.

I recall that Conner was adopted into his Irish family. Mia Genovese is his birth mother. The Genoveses run the Lucciano family, the same as the Donatis run the Moretti organization. These are no ordinary grandparents.

I stand a little taller.

“Sante, you may remember Mia and Edoardo Genovese,” Conner says by way of introduction, releasing a squirming River back to the ground. “Noemi’s brother was in Italy for a few years and has recently come home, hopefully to stay.”

I shake Edoardo’s hand and nod at Mia, who has her hands full. “It’s good to see you both.” I place my free arm around Amelie’s back. “I’m not sure if you’ve already met, but this is Amelie, my future wife.” Girlfriend sounded too trite in my head—too transient. I want everyone to know this woman is mine, and anyone who fucks with her will answer to me. The sooner word gets around, the better.

The older couple gush with congratulations while Conner and Noemi stare at me through wide, incredulous eyes. I give Amelie a small squeeze to help draw her out of her shocked state. She recovers quickly, thanking everyone for their kind words and doing her best to avoid Noemi’s stare.

Before any more can be said, two things happen at once. Oran, Lina, and Violet sweep into the back of the church, stirring up a commotion, which little River uses as a distraction to climb on top of the huge wooden altar. Like highly trained commandos moving into action, Noemi instinctively grabs the infant in my arms while Conner races away to snag his daughter.

The organ music intensifies, signaling the start of the service. Lina and her family beeline for us, giving me a better understanding of the uproar. Her dress is soaked with dirty water up to her waist.

“What on earth happened?” Amelie hisses to her sister.

I’m listening, but my gaze is trained on Oran, whose glare is nothing short of murderous.

“It was so crazy,” Lina says as we take our seats. “I was nearly hit by a car walking over here. I thought about going home to change, but I hate to miss the baptism. Just incredible. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the damn thing swerved to hit me. I happened to notice Oran stopped to fix Violet’s shoe, so I stepped back onto the curb. If I hadn’t …” A tremble wracks her from head to toe. “Well, I hate to think what would have happened.”

Before my eyes, Amelie turns a sickly shade of white.