that I have a family that fucks me over and forces me to marry. I’m grateful for your tight virgin pussy. I’m thankful that you don’t know anything about what I did in the past or you’d never get so fucking wet for me. And I’m grateful that you are always trying to see the good in me. You’re a much better person than I’ll ever be.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Heat clawed my skin as his hands skimmed my waist. He took my hip, sliding under the flared shirt to stroke me. I swallowed hard, stunned by the impact of his gentle grip. As I let him escort us inside, electricity zipped up my elbow.
He brought us into the giant living room filled with feminine furniture. Isabella Costa was tall and graceful. She had a wealth of dark hair, like shining black glass, and it sat on her dainty shoulders. Her generous lips pulled over even teeth. She broadcast a regal beauty that seemed to shine through Tony’s eyes, mouth, and nose because he resembled her so much.
A beautiful smile hitched on Tony’s face. She offered her cheek to him, and Tony kissed it dutifully.
“How are you, Mom?”
“Good, good. I finally get to see you.” She beamed. “My handsome man. You look so happy.”
“Thanks, Mom. I am.”
“Why is this wrinkled?” she demanded, fingering a nonexistent crease on his shirt. “Doesn’t your wife know how to iron?”
She does not.
“Yes, of course.” Tony flung a protective arm around me. “Would’ve seen you sooner, but...newlywed bliss.”
Tony’s adoring gaze swept over me. Paired with his breathtaking grin, it was quite the gut-punch.
“You okay, baby? Cold?”
I nodded, grateful for the excuse.
His warmth had shattered my balance and short-circuited my thoughts. Wool glided over my back as he slid his jacket over me. My hands dove into his pockets, fiddling with crumpled papers.
“Are you pregnant yet?”
Isabella’s demanding tone dragged my attention to the conversation. My heart pounded. I clearly wasn’t her first, second, or third choice to marry her darling son.
“We’re trying.”
“Anthony, you need to take this seriously.” A dangerous edge grew in her voice. “I’m not getting any younger, and I’d like to meet my grandbabies.”
Wow.
Mother-in-law was swinging with both fists in the baby argument, which seemed to thrill Tony. His reluctance to tell her off amused me.
I promised I’d behave, but the lure was too strong.
“She’s right, honey.” I plastered my hand on his chest and pouted. “We should really see a fertility doctor. You don’t want to be in your forties when the baby comes. Or your sixties when the kid turns twenty.”
“I agree, Anthony.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I’ll get on that.”
“You will.” Isabella growled like he’d ruined the party by pissing in the pool. “You are not ruining this girl’s chance to have children.”
“Ignore him,” I cut across Tony, grabbing her arm. “The way we’re going at it, it won’t be a problem. You’ll have a grandkid before next Easter.”
The air echoed with Isabella’s tinkling laughter. Suddenly, her tigress energy zeroed in on me. Mother-in-law officially scared me more than her son.
“Anthony, may I have a moment alone with Evie?”
Here we go, said Tony’s pained expression. He faced his mother, glowering.
“You will not upset my wife.”
“Yes, caro mio. I promise.” Her lips smoothed into an unconvincing harmless smile. “I’ll return Evie in one piece.”
“Be nice, Mom. I like her.”
“Of course.”
He went outside, throwing me a black look.
Isabella evaluated me with an intensity that rivaled her son’s, and then she smiled.
“Anthony should’ve married ten years ago, but he’s like his dad. Stubborn and independent. A marriage with him won’t be easy.” She picked lint off my dress. “You need to hold a gun to his head to get him to do anything.”
Tell me about it. “I’ve seen that side of him.”
“So you know how difficult he is.”
Psychotic, yes. “I can handle him.”
“I think so, too,” she agreed, astonishing me. “My boy has never had the patience for high-society women. Nico set him up with debutantes. Princesses. Soft girls. Anthony sent them home crying. He needs someone strong who won’t put up with his nonsense.”
She stared at me pointedly.
My jaw dropped.
A pep talk from my mother-in-law seemed wrong. Wrong that it came from her, and that I’d absorbed her encouragement like a flower desperate for water.
“I know he’s challenging. Believe me. I spent most of his life trying to fix him. Therapy. Rehab. Nico and I did everything. You can’t force him to do what you want, but you can convince him.”
“How?”
“By