her attempt to glance at the phone.
Santino says, “My pa bought her the first big screen TV over a hundred years ago. Those are the things she remembers. TVs bigger than her brothers’ bellies. How to cook. And how much she hates her brothers now.”
I can’t get a word in as his mother excitedly replies, “Santi, don’t mention those putz! I have no brothers! Now, listen to your ma, invite her over!”
They talk over each other for another minute or two. In the end, the glittering tears in my eyes fade as I laugh. I promise to come over for dinner tonight with Santino and his mother.
10
Santino
A few hours later, there’s a knock at the door. I’m removing fresh-made pasta from a boiling pot when Toni jumps down the narrow stairs.
I call out, “I’ll get—”
“No, Santa, I got it.”
My ma’s opening the stove to get a heavy casserole pan, even though I’ve continually told her not to without me. While helping Ma, I call over my shoulder, “Okay, Antonia. Be on your best behavior.”
A few seconds later, I can hear them share a pleasant greeting when Toni mentions, “I’m the niece. The one you referred to as a bitch.”
Gina gasps. “I’m so …”
“No, it’s okay. Nonna said worse things.”
I stalk into the living room with my arms folded. “Toni, don’t make me—”
Gina softly cuts in, “She has a point.”
Before I can drink in Gina’s beautiful shape, my niece chuckles. “I’m not upset, Gina. I just had to see your face when you realized …”
“Toni,” I growl. “That’s my sister Mina’s daughter.”
“Oh, am I meeting . . .”
“Dead,” Toni snorts. “But my dad is somewhere around. Probably having more fun than the two of you tonight. My Uncle Santa is—”
“Santa?” Gina lifts a brow.
“Only close family calls him that,” Tina retorts.
“I’m supposed to be his future wife.” Gina shrugs.
“Oh, then I have more questions for you. Santa’s my favorite person in the entire world and . . .”
My palm claims my niece’s mouth. “Shut up, or the other day will have become the last time I save you, kid.”
Toni snorts then takes the two bottles from Gina into the kitchen. I’m alone in the tiny living room with Gina now. While her gaze is cast down, mine travels over her body, memorizing every square inch. When she finally meets my eyes, mine lower, darkening with immoral thoughts.
Her breathing shakes out. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I ask, fingers stroking the curve of her shape. Her hands fall on mine, and I command in a low growl, “Don’t fucking make me stop.”
While my eyes burn with an intense hunger, hers warm over with empathy. “I’m trying to apologize to you, Santino. But you’re staring at me like the big, bad wolf. I should’ve waited.”
“Bella, you don’t have to apologize, and yes,” I pause, gripping at her hips. “You should have waited for me.”
My name becomes a throaty moan in Gina’s mouth. Her body weakens into me, and thick lashes fan down over her cheeks. She groans, “You’re absolutely right. In the span of a couple of hours, you had me feeling like Christmas morning. Ahem, anyway,” she says, sliding away from my touch. “Now, you’re aware of how petty I am. You should have left my feet in the cement.”
“Why’s that?”
“It would have made it more difficult for me to get away.”
She looks around at photos of my family. Her thumb caresses over an image of me when I played baseball.
“Looks like you could’ve gone pro.”
“Minor leagues.”
“Nice.”
“Eh, no Bambino.” I could tell her something came up. Like my sister’s death. That would lead to how I became a de facto parent and ended up helping Ma with little Toni. In the beginning, I had no idea how to raise a little girl. Sympathy is a non-factor and might lead to how I once made a quick dollar.
“Ballroom dancing?” Gina’s eyebrow lifts as she plucks a picture of Ma and me. The photo is old, grainy, and good for blackmail material. When I attempt to take it, she slides it behind her back. “How old were you? Ten, twelve?”
“That’s not me,” I joke.
“Who is it then?”
“My cousin . . . Santorini.”
Peering up at me, Gina’s eyelashes flutter. “Liar.”
“First, you’re too fucking tiny to call me a liar.” My chest crushes her; all the ass I can’t wait to own is pressed back against the end table. With half her mouth tipped in a smile, she’s waiting for me to drop a