Mafia Casanova

Without breaking our kiss, I lifted her by the ass and set her on the counter next to the sink, wrapping those long legs around my waist, her heels hooked around one another as she tugged me closer.

“Eager?” I teased.

“Very,” she panted, sliding her hands inside my jacket, shrugging it off me as I inched her skirt up past her hips.

I started kissing her again, tasting wine on her lips, when the door was shoved open.

“Hey!” The caterer, did she even tell me her name? “The bathroom’s busy.”

“Clearly.” Came Eden’s pretty voice. “But this is an emer—”

The sound of puking filled the room.

“Talk about cock blocking.” I sighed.

“Shut up, Romeo!” Eden had time to yell at me before the sound of puking happened again and then a moan.

I pried myself from the caterer in a flash, tugged her skirt down, and went over to Eden, getting on my knees behind her as I gathered her hair and held it tight in my hand.

“Um, hello? I’m still here?” Needy caterer stomped a heel against the tile floor.

“Are you? I hadn’t noticed,” I replied dryly. “Leave. Now.”

“This is bullshit. Do you know who my father—”

“Gonna stop you right there, sweetheart.” I didn’t even look at her. “No matter who your father is, or how important he is, I’m the one they send after people when they want them dead, so if you want little daddy to keep breathing, you’ll leave this bathroom and forget you ever saw me.”

A huff sounded along with footsteps and a random. “Cock tease.” The door slammed.

I returned my attention to Eden as she continued to puke until tears streamed down her face.

“All better?” I asked when she finally leaned back against me.

She nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes.

I reached for a towel behind me and wiped her face, careful not to mess up what was left of her makeup.

She was quiet.

The anger gone.

The sadness just as thick, just as tense, just as suffocating.

“S-sorry.” Eden’s voice cracked. “It’s been a rough pregnancy up until the bitter end.” She rubbed her belly, her smile more scared than sad.

I let go of her hair with trembling hands, letting it fall across her bare back, placing my palm against her shoulder instead.

Touching her was like drinking the sweetest poison and not caring in the least about the end result, only the beginning.

It was a moment of weakness, one I hadn’t had since that night as she leaned against me, using my strength as her own.

“What do you need?” I asked, gently stroking my fingertips across her skin, letting them believe that she was ours to touch, ours to keep.

Ignoring the mass disappointment that would take place in the next few minutes when we went back into the respective sides we stood on during the war between our hearts.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’m scared I’m going to be a horrible mom, I’m hungry all the time, and then I puke…” She sniffled and wiped the tears from her face.

“Eden,” God, saying her name hurt like hell no matter the situation. “You’re going to be a wonderful mom. I’m sure of it.”

She hung her head. “You have to say that, you’re the uncle.”

In a moment of pure insanity, I wrapped both my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head. “You’re good, Eden, genuinely good. And your ability to love is vast. You’ll be a great mom because you’re great, and he’ll watch your every move, repeat it, try again, and when he fails, you’ll encourage him, you’ll hug him, dry his tears, you’ll tell him he’s brave when he’s scared, you’ll make him laugh, show him what it’s like to stand up for himself. You’ll be a great mom because you’re you. It’s just as simple as that.”

She sighed. “I hate it when you’re nice.”

I grimaced. “Me too, makes me sound like a total pussy.”

Eden burst out laughing. “Being nice doesn’t mean you’re a pussy.”

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to update my resume. Not a pussy, knows how to hold someone’s hair when they puke, and sometimes nice.”

“I forget how funny you are when you’re not being a jackass.”

“That’s offensive. I’m hilarious even when I am being a jackass.”

It was too easy.

Settling back into our typical routine.

The verbal sparring.

Teasing.

The tension that always built whenever we were silent and realized how good it would be, how good it was, how broken we left it.

“Look, Eden—”

The door to the bathroom flew open; Tristian’s murderous gaze shot to mine with such hatred that it stole my breath away.

I’d always looked up to my brother.

Loved him.

Sacrificed for him.

The woman still in my arms proved that.

Eden was the one thing capable of breaking our relationship into tiny pieces of dust or whatever was left of it after their wedding.

I dropped my arms and very slowly moved away from her and stood. Tristian’s chest rose and fell like he’d sprinted toward the bathroom; his eyes flickered from me down to Eden.