Page 44 of Bellini Born

“Play Santa, Papa!” Bianca held up a heaping pile of bubbles.

Matteo twisted his lips to the side and hummed as he considered her request. “I don’t know . . .” he began.

Intrigued, I asked, “How does one play Santa?”

Instead of answering, he turned to his daughter. “Should we show Summer?”

Bianca’s head bobbed. “Yes!”

“All right,” he agreed before turning his intense stare on me. “But this doesn’t leave this room, understand?”

My eyebrows lifted. What in the world was I about to witness?

“Um, okay?”

“Do a pinky promise!” Bianca suggested.

“Actually, that’s not a half-bad idea,” Matteo said. Drying his hands on a towel, he extended one of those giant paws toward me, every finger curled with the exception of his pinky, which was held straight. His voice dropped an octave. “Do you pinky promise, Summer?”

Swallowing, I hooked my pinky with his, and heat curled low in my belly when our skin made contact. We’d only touched one other time, that day in his office when I somehow wound up accepting a nanny job I wasn’t qualified for. It had been just as electric then, the tingling sensation lasting long after he’d let go of my wrist.

“I promise.” The words came out barely above a whisper.

He flashed me a panty-melting smile before pulling his hand away, and it took everything in me not to whimper at the loss. Then there was my traitorous bitch of a vagina, which wasthrobbing, desperate for his attention. She was gonna be pissed as hell when it was my touch, and not Matteo’s, easing that ache later tonight.

“Ready, girls?” Matteo addressed his daughters.

“Yes!” Bianca bounced in the bathwater, causing a wave of it to slosh over the side of the tub and soak into the fabric of my jeans where I knelt beside it.

“Here we go.” Scooping up a giant pile of bubbles, he brought them to his face. The suds clung to his jaw, and he shaped them into a long beard.

When both girls burst into giggles at the ridiculous sight, I was a goner. My laughter split the air so suddenly that I clamped a hand over my mouth.

Mirth sparkled in Matteo’s eyes. “Like what you see,dolcezza?”

Goddamn if my brain didn’t short-circuit when I heard him call me that for a second time tonight. And I still had no clue what it meant!

His hotness must’ve zapped my filter because I reached out to cup the bubbles hanging from his face, and replied, “I think you look very handsome, Mr. Bellini.”

His gaze heated, and my thighs pressed together. I was in soooooo much trouble.

Thankfully, the girls demanded our attention before the sexual tension in the air could grow any thicker, especially since I was seconds away from suffocating on it.

Matteo became the star of the show, playing up the role of everyone’s favorite fictional holiday character. All I could do was sit back and watch the over-the-top silliness he exuded for the sole enjoyment of his daughters.

The whole time, I couldn’t help but wonder how this man was supposed to be the head of a criminal organization, because he wasn’t scary at all.

Chapter 11

Matteo

AsmuchasIhated to admit it, Enzo was right. He’d nailed it when he called me out for being a creep, having put Summer in a bedroom that connected to mine without her knowledge.

Because, wouldn’t you know it, there I was at midnight, cracking open the door that would allow me to peek into her private space while she was sleeping.

I tried to resist the temptation. I really did.

But I couldn’t stop replaying the images of her in the bathroom, when Bianca’s splashing got completely out of control, and Summer had stripped off her sweatshirt to reveal that she only wore a cropped white tank top beneath. That alone would have been enough to have me stirring below the belt, but throw in the fact that she hadn’t been wearing a bra? It was like the devil himself knew just which weaknesses to play on.