Paolo
Christmas Eve is a full-on Tacone Family celebration. We took over the top three floors of the hotel and now that all my siblings have paired up, dinner includes a hoard of their partners’ families as well.
My ma is in seventh heaven having us all together, with all the new grandchildren making the place festive.
Sondra and Corey, Nico and Stefano’s wives, are cousins, so at least their folks are family to each other. Desiree’s ma fits in fine—the tiny Puerto Rican seems perfectly comfortable with the cacophony of chatter and animated gestures. Gio’s girl, Marissa, left her family at home, mainly because her grandparents are still getting over their beef with our father, but we’re working on them, little by little. By next Christmas, they’ll be fully in the fold as well.
I would attempt to help Caitlin’s brother Trevor feel more comfortable, but he’s probably even less comfortable with me than he is the rest of my family, so I leave him to scroll on the new phone I bought him.
As first born, Junior’s at the head of the table, and he raises his glass and the noisy room falls into silence.
“It’s been a big year for the Tacones. Weddings, engagements. Children. It gives me great joy to welcome so many newcomers to our table this year. My own new family, Desiree, Jasper and Santo the III.” He winks at his wife who holds their new son. “Vlad, our new brother, who gave his kidney to save Alessia. Mika and Lara, their children. Of course, Nico Junior.” His gaze runs around the table. “Caitlin, welcome. You’re the first woman Paolo’s ever brought to a family dinner, so we know it must be serious. Welcome to the extended family of all our new members. We’re glad you could join us as well. Cin Cin.”
“Cin Cin.” Everyone repeats the Italian toast and lifts their glasses in the air and clinks them.
“And now for family announcements. Stefano?”
We all turn to look at our youngest brother. I already know his news, but my ma and Alessia haven’t heard yet.
“Corey and I will be moving to the Old Country to open a second Bellissimo next year.”
My ma gasps and there’s a chorus of encouragement. I notice Sondra’s eyes get wet, but she smiles, nonetheless. She and her cousin are as tight as sisters, so it will be hard for her to let her go, but the project is an exciting one.
“Who else has news?” Junior lifts a brow at me.
I wasn’t prepared to share my news. I bought a ring for Caitlin, but I haven’t proposed yet, and I don’t want to put her on the spot with the pregnancy.
“Yes, Paolo, do you have news?” Alessia prompts with a mischievous smile. “I notice someone refused the wine tonight.” She pumps her brows at Caitlin, who grins.
“Pregnant!” She throws her arms in the air like a girl popping out of a cake. Classic Crazy-Caitlin and I’ve never been so happy to see her emerge. She’s been subdued every time she’s been with my family, I was afraid she’d never get comfortable.
My ma squeals in joy and the table erupts into applause and a chorus of congratulazionis.
Junior raises his glass and there’s another round of toasts to our new baby.
I’m the quiet guy at the family events and the focus is never on me, but I find it all strangely gratifying. My chest swells with pleasure and warmth and the overwhelming sense of rightness.
I don’t know how I made it through forty-two years without Caitlin because it feels like I’m just now starting to live.
My eyes are wet when I raise my own glass and join in the toast.
Caitlin sees and leans up to kiss my jaw. “You’re going to be a daddy.” She beams at me.
“I can’t wait.”
#
Caitlin
I’m getting used to the Tacones. Aside from every one of the men—including the Russian brother-in-law—being lethal, they are just like anyone else. Family-oriented, loving and generous.
Paolo’s spent the last two weeks spoiling me rotten. New iPhones for me and my brother. New computer equipment, clothes, winter jacket, a portable speaker for my tunes.
He handled my FBI problem with his spit-fire attorney, Lucy Lawrence, who is now my hero for making it disappear. He’s looking for an apartment near Northwestern where we can both live. We flew out here with the rest of his family from Chicago on a private jet. I’m having a hard time fathoming that this is going to be my life.
It’s all happened so fast.
But I’m in. I’m totally in, and so right now I’m bouncing on my heels with excitement over my gift to Paolo.
We enter our suite after the big Christmas Eve feast. The maid’s already been in to turn down the beds and close the curtains. Tomorrow promises to be another crazy extravaganza, but for the moment, I have him alone.
And he let me nap three hours this afternoon, so the pregnancy isn’t kicking my ass for once, and I have some energy.
“I have a surprise for you,” I tell him.
He cocks a brow. “Oh yeah?”
I take him by the tie and push him backward until he sits in the big easy chair by the window. “You stay right there.” I pick up the speaker he bought me and cue up the song, Liar, by Camila Cabello.
Then I take my position, facing away, feet spread wide, head down.
I give him my best sexy stripper show, peeling my clothing off piece by piece as I undulate my hips and fan kick and saunter over to him.
He squeezes his cock over his pants, watching me with heavy lids. “Cazzo, bella. Tell me you never worked as a stripper.”
“One night. I thought it would feed my kink, but I quit because it screwed with my head too much. I was so far out of my body, it took days to get back.”
His fists clench on the arms of the chair and I smile, recognizing the protective reaction. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to kill anybody for me. And you’re the only man I strip for now. This is all for you.” I snake down to a squat and back up again.
I’m down to my panties and bra. I slide one strap down my shoulder, then the other. When I reach behind to unsnap the clasp, the bra drops to the floor for my big reveal.
Paolo shoots forward in his chair to get a closer look.
I smile like the Cheshire cat and shimmy my way closer and closer until I end up straddling his lap and giving him a face-to-tit view.
“Hold still, doll. What does it say?”
I stop my undulations and let him get close enough to read the tiny print I had a henna artist Sharpie in circles around each tender nipple.
Will you marry me? is written in English on one side and Italian on the other.
He laughs when he finally figures it out.
“Are you proposing to me?”
I grin back. “I had to beat you to the punch.” I swing my legs, kicking my feet and bouncing on his lap. “What’s your answer, big guy?”
“Come here.” He threads his fingers through my hair from the side of my neck and gently pulls me forward. His lips brush across mine.
“I’m gonna marry you.” He says it like a threat, reminding me that he’s in charge around here, whether I propose or not.
“I’m gonna marry you.” I counter.
He sips from my lips again. “When?”
I bounce. “Now? We are in Vegas, baby.” It’s crazy-Caitlin talking. I hadn’t even thought about eloping before this moment.
He hesitates. “Nah. I want you to have the fairytale wedding, little hacker. Princess-style. You deserve the very best. That okay? Or do you really want the Elvis chapel thing?”
I lean my forehead against his and kick my feet some more. “Princess wedding sounds really nice. I’m not used to having princess options.”
“Well, get fucking used to it. I’m going to spoil you rotten, doll. For the rest of your life.” He squeezes my ass and tugs me over his erection.
I rotate my pelvis as I kiss him with everything I have. “I love you, Paolo Tacone.”
“You’re my wildfire, doll. You set my entire life ablaze—you put a glow on everything.” He stands, keeping me wrapped around his waist. “Wanna see your ring, bella?”
“Yes,” I breathe. I figured he had one. Figured he might give it to me for Christmas. That’s why I had to beat him to it.
He lays me down in the middle of the bed and goes to his suitcase. He returns with a little jewelry box. “What do you think?” Inside is an eternity band of emerald cut diamonds set in platinum. I don’t know jewelry, but I’m guessing it costs as much as a new Porsche.
I tear up. “I love it. So much.”
He slides it on my finger, then climbs over me on the bed. His thumb settles between my legs, sliding over my piercing. “I’m going to get a matching platinum stud for down here,” he says.
I smile and squeeze my own nipples. “You don’t have to mark your territory, big man. You’ve owned this body from day one.”
He grins back, an expression I’m seeing more and more often on him now. “Damn straight.”
