She shakes her head. “What if I don’t want that?” she whispers.
“Lie,” I say before crashing my lips down on hers. I pull back after a few minutes of tasting her vanilla flavored Chapstick. “Wake your mother up,” I say, willing my cock to go down.
“Too late, who the hell are you?” s woman’s voice asks from somewhere behind me. Autumn closes her eyes briefly before opening them. I turn and extend my hand to her. She shakes it with a firm grip.
“Hi, Mama. This is Alberto Diaz. My, uh…”
“Man,” I finish for her.
“He’s come to help us.”
“Alberto Diaz, as in your boss?”
“Technically, ma’am, my father, also called Alberto, was her boss,” I say.
“What’s going on here? What the hell is wrong with you? Autumn Cara Deluca, are you out of your mind? Bringing a stranger into our home.”
“We’re leaving,” I simply say. I don’t want anyone talking to the future Mrs. Diaz like that, even if it is her mother.
“Okay, when are you coming back? I have to be at work at five on Friday morning.”
“We are all leaving,” Autumn says smiling.
“Come again?”
“Mom, if I understand Alberto correctly, our apartment building isn’t exactly safe for the boys or for us.”
“Exactly. Take what you need for the night and I will send someone for the rest of your things tomorrow.”
“Jesus, boy you better be worth this hassle,” her mother says, putting her hands on her hips. Her Harry Potter pajamas make her seem young. As it is, she must have been a teenager when she had Autumn.
“I am,” I say. I am determined to be. I watch as they bustle around packing essentials. Finally, they are ready.
“Can you carry Santino? He’s too tall for us to carry down all those stairs.”
“Sure,” I say, following them into a bedroom that has three cribs and a twin bed. My girl has been sardined into this room with three babies. Sure, they are adorable, but still. She points to a crib and I lean over it picking up the sleeping boy. They each pick up another baby. I take the bag that Autumn is carrying and watch as she juggles the baby and her keys to lock the door. Once in the cab, I’m still cradling the sleeping Santino.
“So, who is who?” I ask.
“My mom is Betty Bianchi and she’s holding Salvatore who is two, and this is Giovanni, he’s seven months old. Santino is three.” Fuck, she looks good holding a baby.
I need to get inside her.
Chapter Three
Autumn
Man alive, he looks so sexy holding my baby brother, I can’t help imagining what he’d look like holding our baby. My ovaries are currently exploding all over the place.
The address he gives the driver is in Queens, but the fancy part. It takes a while to get there and I am surprised that the boys stay asleep the whole way. The mansion we pull up to in the ritzy Forest Hills Gardens neighborhood is beyond huge. When the gate opens, I figure this is actually a compound. There is a huge house surrounded by smaller, but still pretty large houses. We pull up to one of the smaller ones.
Alberto gets out still holding Santino. He pays the driver and grabs my bag as well as my mom’s. My mom exits the car quietly, but I can tell she is stunned. “Your mom and brothers are going to be here. I had the staff pull cribs from the attic but go out and buy some new linens. Everything should be good to go.
“Where is Autumn staying?”
“With me in the main house, until I work out a larger permanent home for all of us.”
Mom looks horrified.
“Autumn, you don’t have to do this,” she whispers to me.
“Mom, I want to, I promise,” I say smiling.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” she says, putting Sal in one of the cribs. I do the same with Gio and Alberto does the same with Santino.
“I’ll send over someone to help you with these guys in the morning. Where is your husband?”
“We’re divorced. It was finalized a few weeks ago. He doesn’t care about my boys.”
“Just making sure he won’t be making trouble.”
“Oh, he’ll make trouble, but don’t worry about it. I can handle Sal,” she says, and I worry that the only way she can handle Sal is sex, but we shall see.
“If you are sure. I am still going to put two men on a rotation outside your front door. Let’s go, Lolita.”
“Why do you call me Lolita?” I ask, as he all but drags me across the lawn to the big house. He stops short of the steps to the house.
“Because a man my age shouldn’t be obsessed with a girl your age, one he just met at that,” he says, putting his free hand on my cheek.
“What age is that?” I ask, breathlessly. No one has ever been obsessed with me before. I fucking love it. What does that say about me?