Page 215 of Falling for the Wife

“We’ve already had this conversation, Luca. Come on; it’s getting tiresome.”

And taxing by the looks of it, I silently added as I watched her hide a small yawn.

As much as I applauded her vigilant dedication to being a mother, certain measures needed to be addressed.

“It’s tiresome to keep bringing it up, so let me just say this one more time. If you’re still adamant about not using the nanny to help you, I’ll drag you away for a few days just so you can get some rest. I love Gian Luca, as well, but your health is far more important to me. If you get sick because you’re not healthy, can you imagine what it would be like raising him all by myself?”

She immediately paled. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Well, you should, because with the way you’re going, it won’t be long until you get sick. You just gave birth, for Pete’s sake; your body went through a major trauma by birthing another life into this world. You’re exhausted, Kim. You’re running on fumes. So please, hand the baby to the nanny and sleep for the rest of the afternoon.”

I held her until she was asleep. She seemed smaller somehow, more fragile than before.

Just as we discussed, we began to refurbish the room next to hers as a nursery. Aside from making sure the nanny got to spend some time with the baby while she rested, I made it my mission to take her away from the house for an hour or two almost on a daily basis so we could look about and shop for baby furniture.

As it turned out, she adored little details, so I enlisted someone who could paint the ceiling with a blue sky and bright white clouds. She was also resolute about using organic products and buying items and toys that weren’t plastic, so there were a lot of wooden toys. She didn’t go for the typical chic nursery, but instead, selected a warm, sweet, and simple haven without all the grand embellishments that most people with wealth lavished upon.

Gino, who wasn’t opinionated—or if he did have one, he normally kept it to himself—actually made a wry comment that her influence could be good on me since I was by far the least economical man known in the country. I wasn’t the type of man who bragged, but then again, one couldn’t describe me as a humble, either. His compliment, if it were intended to be one, made me smile like an idiot. I didn’t care what her influence was on me. All I knew was that I woke up every morning, smiling as if it were the best day I had ever had.

We were almost done with the nursery. I would say, in a day or two, Gian Luca would be able to enjoy his earthy kingdom.

It was during dinner while Kimberly was upstairs, tending to the baby’s feeding, when one of the servants announced that my father had just arrived and was waiting for me in the library.

I wasn’t surprised that my father hadn’t directly searched for me in the dining hall. He was the type who liked to keep things private to avoid eavesdroppers and prying eyes.

Being born in one of Italy’s most influential and wealthiest families came with a lot of rules and restrictions. I couldn’t give a fuck about any of them, but my father followed without hesitation.

I pulled the napkin from my lap and set it next to the plate, heavily pondering as I took up my wine glass and chugged from it. If my father had decided to give me a visit on behalf of my mother, this wasn’t going to end well. Perhaps it was just as well. Though he hadn’t been approving of his wife’s wretched practice at being the biggest bitch alive, he had never chastised her throughout the years—well, not that I knew of.

“Che vita!” (What a life.) If the Italian media got a whiff of how my family closely resembled a soap opera, they would have a field day.

Slowly and decidedly, I lifted my body out of the chair and traced my steps towards the library. A quick glance towards the upstairs landing showed how placid it was up there. Kimberly was most likely done feeding by now and was rocking the baby to sleep. It was these quiet, enjoyable moments I loved watching without disturbing. They were my everything, and sooner or later, my family would understand the profoundness of that sentiment.

It wasn’t long until I reached the door to my study, then I simply strode in, a tad guarded and the other half open-minded to what he had to say.

“Papa,” I greeted him with a nod, shutting the door and coolly regarding him.

“Buonasera, Luca.”

“To what do I owe this pleasure? Is there a pressing matter that couldn’t be discussed over the phone?”

He took a deep breath before getting up from the black leather wingback chair and striding towards the fireplace, deep in thought, as he took a metal fork from the grate and moved the wood about, evening the spread of the fire. “I beg you not to direct your anger towards me. You easily forget I’m innocent in your squabble against your mother.”

“Asquabble?That’s putting it lightly, Papa.” I gave a dark laugh. The word didn’t even begin to compare.

Shaking his head, he steadfastly strolled back towards the chair he had previously occupied before releasing a sigh that stated this was taking a toll on him.

“How is thepiccolo neonato?” he finally asked with a soft voice.

“He is well, growing and improving on a daily basis.” It saddened me to think that this—having my first born, one of the most important highlights of any person’s life—couldn’t be shared with my family. It was an abhorrent thing to fathom yet something I had quickly learned to live with.

“And her?” He cleared his throat. “How is she doing? Are you taking care of them well?”

His prying question made me see how much he wanted to be a part of this new aspect of my life.

“I try my best, of course. We’re all learning from each other as we get used to things. It’s a vast change for all parties. But I do believe she is content and happy here. And as for the baby, she dies a little inside each time she parts with him. She’s so keen on and brilliant with Gian Luca. I can’t ask for a better mother to my child.”

My father made a championing grin before giving an approving nod. “Gian Luca. He’s named after you. Is this your doing?”