Monster A Dark Arranged Marriage Romance - Vanessa Waltz Page 0,100
up in fiendish delight when I groaned.
I wiped it off as Evie softly chided him.
“Massimo, don’t do that to Daddy.”
“Swear to God, I was not this much of a pain in the ass as a baby.”
Evie chuckled softly. “Your mom says you threw tantrums all the time. Sometimes, you’d get so upset you’d vomit and pass out.”
“Good Lord. Is that what we’re in for?”
Evie shrugged.
I worried about the similarities constantly. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my life as it was in the moment, but the weight of being a parent got worse as the kids grew older. Tristan had been an easy baby. Calm as hell. Always happy. A deceptive introduction to parenthood.
Massimo was another story.
My back ached from allowing my toddler to steer me around the beach, toward rushing waves that meant certain death for him.
I picked him up and set him away.
Massimo sprinted back to the water.
“You can’t go in the ocean, buddy,” I growled as he let out an earsplitting cry. “I said no. Why are you’re so stubborn?”
I lifted him to the sky and made airplane noises, and then I let him plunge down. He squealed and pumped his fists as I did it again. When the sun made the water shimmer like orange glass, we strolled back to Vinn’s beach house.
It was packed with kids settling down for Sunday dinner. Mom and Zia Lena ladled gravy onto plates. I squeezed past them. Massimo pointed at Mom, beaming.
“Vuoi andare da la tua nonna?”
He nodded.
“Ma, can you feed him for me?”
I transferred him to Mom’s lap, and she wasted no time in coaxing my son into eating. At least he wasn’t difficult about that. I waved to my mother-in-law, who sat beside Mom. Then I passed the table and strolled into the kitchen, where Michael stood at the stove with his sister, Liana.
“That’s not how you do it!” he shouted, banging the pot with the tongs. “You need to salt the water. Then you add butter after you drain the pasta.”
Liana rolled her eyes and pinched his stomach. “You don’t need more butter, old man. Your arteries can’t take it.”
Michael’s dark scowl smoothed into delight as we locked eyes. “Anthony. Settle a bet with me.”
“What is it?”
“You add butter to the noodles before the gravy to make it stick.”
“Your brother’s right.” I patted Liana’s shoulder, grinning. “But he always thins out the sauce with too many vegetables, so it doesn’t fucking matter.”
Liana chuckled. “Shots fired.”
“That’s my wife’s recipe.” Michael waved the tongs at me. “Take it back, you dick.”
“Sorry. It’s the truth.”
“Never mind,” he smoldered, shaking his head. “I’ll beat your ass later.”
“Okay. Do you want to give me the twenty grand now? Or later when I clean you out?” I winked at him and headed out the kitchen.
We had a poker tournament running all weekend. We played every night after the kids were in bed. The fierce competition had sparked a few heated moments. Trash talk was encouraged. None of the wives liked it except for mine, because I always won. It went without saying that I was the king.
I walked the halls and stumbled on Alessio making out with Mia. She unlatched from him and hugged me. All was forgiven.
“Aren’t you going to eat with us?”
I patted her back. “In a little bit.”
I made my excuses and went outside, where dark blue blanketed the beach. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget what I’d been through. On nights like this, I grappled with guilt. I needed to get away from it all.
I sat on the beach as waves touched the sand. I couldn’t relax with the water so close to the house. I’d probably sit outside for a few hours.
“Are you all right?”
I was so absorbed in my task that the voice next to me caught me off guard.
I turned on my phone, illuminating Alessio’s face. “Better than I’ve ever been.”
“I keep waiting for you to come back to us. You’re not like how you used to be. You were the life of the party back in the day.”
I didn’t do that anymore. “This is as normal as I’ll ever get, besides cleaning you all out at cards. You owe me fifty grand, by the way.”
“Mia will divorce me if we keep this shit up.”
“If you gamble away your kids’ college tuition, I’ll give you a classic, six-for-five loan. Twenty percent a week. You can pay me every Thursday.”
“Thursdays are no good for me. What about Saturday?”