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I picked up my fork. “Maz? That’s cute. What nickname does he use for you?”
“Nothing fit for a lady’s ears,” he said dryly.
He started eating, so I did the same. We ate in silence for a few minutes, and I had to admit the frittata was delicious. Leeks, prosciutto, spinach and cheese wrapped in fluffy eggs. Nice to see that Massimo really did know how to cook.
“Fuck, that’s good.” He reached for his cappuccino, cradling it in his hands. “Should we talk more about the cottage? Or was there something else you wished to discuss?”
“Do you have kids?” I blurted.
Vito’s entire body jolted and the cappuccino splattered all over the front of his shirt.
eight
. . .
Vito
Immediately,I went upstairs to change into a fresh t-shirt.
My brothers ridiculed me for it, but I hated to be dirty. I hated for my clothing to be stained—which could be challenging in my line of work. Bloodstains were a bitch to get out of suits. But I preferred to be clean at all times.
I considered putting in my contacts, too, but dismissed the idea. Maggie wouldn’t care about my glasses and I’d rather return downstairs as quickly as possible.
Where did the question about kids come from? Did Massimo say something to her this morning?
The fake wedding band on the dresser caught my eye. Had she noticed that I wasn’t wearing it? For some reason, I didn’t like lying to her, but the lie was too well established to stop now. Best to keep wearing the ring until I left for Toronto. It would ensure I didn’t do anything stupid.
After slipping the ring onto my finger, I also pulled on a pair of jeans. Then I thumped down the wooden stairs to find her looking at her phone, cheeks flushed, a lock of her dark hairfalling in her face. “Sorry about that,” she said, not looking up and not sounding particularly sorry, either.
I gathered the empty breakfast containers and threw them out. “Would you like another cappuccino?”
“No. I should really get going.”
She started to get up, so I held up my hand. “Stop. Tell me why you asked me about kids.”
“Because I’ve been so focused on what’s going on with the winery that I forgot you might also have kids.”
“I don’t.Wedon’t,” I amended.
Maggie visibly relaxed. “That’s a relief. A cheating husband is bad enough. A cheating father is a total dirtbag.”
I agreed, actually. My own father had flaunted his mistresses in front of our mother. He even brought one to a family dinner once, which was the most uncomfortable meal of my life. Our mother cried the whole time and Enzo nearly punched the old man in the mouth halfway through.
“You can rest assured. I have no children—legitimate or otherwise,” I said.
She winced. “I hadn’t considered illegitimate kids, so thanks for clearing that up, too, I guess.”
“I also always wear condoms.”
“I would hope so, for fuck’s sake. You risk giving your poor wife an STD with every affair.”
“I don’t have any diseases.”
The look she gave me would’ve caused the balls of a lesser man to crawl back up inside his body. “That you know of.”
“I get tested regularly,” I told her, which was not a lie. “And I’m clean.”
“Well, I am, too. Glad we cleared that up.” She pushed her empty cup toward me and stood up. “Thanks for coffee. I should get to work.”