Kings of Sin

"I don't think that's how you're supposed to wrap it." My teeth dug into my bottom lip as I struggled not to laugh at Dante's attempt to fold the dough into a

half moon.

"It's dough," he growled. He sealed the wrap and shoved the deformed dumpling to the side before starting on a new one. "How many ways are there to wrap it?" He spooned filling into the center with more force than necessary.

If there was one (of many) things that made him grumpy, it was not excelling at something.

"Two." I cradled my own dumpling in one hand and used the thumb and index finger of my opposite hand to fold and pinch the sealed edge, creating pleats along the side. "The right way and the wrong way."

Despite my best efforts to contain my amusement, laughter spilled out at Dante's dark scowl. The effect would've been more terrifying had it not been for the specks of flour dusting his nose and cheek.

We were making, or rather attempting to make, dumplings for our Lunar New Year dinner tomorrow night. It was our first Lunar New Year as a married couple, and this time, we were celebrating at our house instead of at my parents'.

My mother was flying in while my father, whom I hadn't spoken to since our big fight last year, celebrated with Agnes and Gunnar in Eldorra. Part of me was sad our family couldn't be together for such an important holiday, but Agnes couldn't make it to the U.S. anyway due to Gunnar's parliamentary obligations. This arrangement was the best compromise.

Since it was also my first time hosting Lunar New Year celebrations, I thought it would be fun if Dante and I had a cooking night and served homemade dumplings but... maybe that wasn't the best idea.

My husband was talented at many things. Cooking wasn't one of them.

"Are you laughing at me?" he demanded, but his words lacked bite. He watched, his expression equal parts annoyed and indulgent, as I brushed the flour off his nose.

"Of course not." My laughter died down, but my grin remained as I stood on tiptoes and kissed the spot where the flour used to be. "Don't be so grumpy. It's the Year of the Dragon. It's your year."

I'd told him the truth about the animal I actually saw him as a few months ago, and I swore his ego inflated so much he practically floated to the ceiling.

I brought it up strategically whenever he was sulking about something, like when Holchester United, his favorite soccer team, lost against Chelsea because Asher Donovan had been out of commission.

"Yeah, yeah," Dante grumbled, but his face softened. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, bringing up the dragon thing."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I gave him a mischievous smile."But it's okay to admit cooking isn't one of your top skills. Not everyone can be as talented as me and Greta in the kitchen."

He hitched a dark brow. "You? The person who set off the smoke alarm last week trying to make bacon?"

My smile gave way to a full-body flush.

"That wasn't my fault," I said defensively. My mind flashed to an image of a sleep-rumpled Dante walking in, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a lazy smile, and the flush deepened. "Someone came in and distracted me with... with... "

"His devilish handsomeness and incredible charm?" The remnants of his annoyance melted into a teasing grin.

Just like that, butterflies erupted in my stomach. He still had some flour on his cheek and that, combined with his smile, drove any thoughts of dumplings and charred bacon out of my mind.

There was something about seeing the indomitable Dante Russo so human that made me melt every. Single. Time.

Still, I kept my expression neutral. As much as I loved him, I didn't need his head to get any bigger than it already was.

"No," I said. "I think it was his incredible humility, ridiculous bedhead - " My sentence cut off into a squeal when he swept me up with a playful growl and spun me around.

"Stop!" I laughed, breathless from both the spin and the general giddiness of a night in with Dante. Work and social obligations meant we spent at least several nights a week out on the town, and it was always a treat to have a few hours alone together doing normal couple things. "You're getting me dirty."

His hands were still dusted with flour. I didn't really care, but we were supposed to be cooking. Or something.

It was hard to think straight when he was looking up at me with that smile and those eyes.

They should be outlawed, just like his voice. They were an unfair advantage no man should possess.

"Not yet, mia cara." A wicked grin slashed across his face as he set me down. His hands found my hips, steadying me while the room stopped spinning. "Give me half an hour."

"Dante." Heat rushed over my cheeks and over the back of my neck at the double meaning behind his words. "Greta will kill us."

After much begging, cajoling, and bribing in the form of chocolate chip cookies on our part, Greta had reluctantly ceded her precious kitchen territory to us for the night. If she saw us doing anything except cooking in here, she'd ban us for life and make us eat under-cooked pasta for the next month.

Still, I didn't resist when Dante cupped my cheek and brushed his mouth over mine. "I'll take that chance."

His velvety reply vibrated down my spine and kicked my pulse up another notch.

"You're a bad influence, Mr. Russo." My half- hearted protest drifted into a sigh of pleasure when he kissed me again, deeper this time, with a firm tenderness that sent warmth spiraling through my insides.

It'd been four months since our wedding and almost a year and a half since our engagement, but it didn't matter how long we'd been married or how many times we'd kissed. Every time felt like the first time in the best way possible.

I wound my arms around his neck as his hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck. His tongue swept against mine in a leisurely, expert caress, and the edges of my mind turned hazy.

Who cared about the flour or dumplings? That was what showers and takeout were for. Worst came to worst, we could order in food-

"What are you doing?"

Greta's voice doused the moment more effectively than a bucket of ice water.

Dante and I broke apart faster than two teenagers caught making out by their parents. His hand dropped from my face, and our guilty stares swung in unison toward the doorway, where Greta stood with a disapproving frown and her hands planted on her hips.

Uh oh.

Images of stale pasta and unseasoned meat served as punishment flashed through my mind. She was understanding when it came to most things, but she was unyielding when it came to her kitchen rules.

Namely, anything other than eating, cooking, and yelling at the TV was actively discouraged.

Dante recovered first. "We're taking a break," he said, the picture of innocence. "Making dumplings is exhausting."

"Making dumplings?" Greta snorted. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Dante's mouth twitched while I buried my face in his chest to hide the laugh bubbling up my throat. I couldn't help it. We were both adults, and he was technically her boss, but there were many times when Greta treated us like a stern but loving grandmother who was fed up with our antics.

Actually, now that I thought about it... that was a pretty accurate description of our relationship.

"I told you, no hanky panky in my kitchen! And what is that?" Greta gasped. "Are those supposed to be... dumplings?"

She must've spotted Dante's creations.

My shoulders shook with silent laughter when I pictured her horrified expression.

Dante's arm tightened around me. "Yes." A defensive note crept into his voice. "Obviously."

"Absolutely not!" Greta sounded like he'd just told her we were serving fast food at a state dinner. "We are not serving those to guests in my house."

"It's actually my house," Dante said in response to Greta's statement.

She ignored him. "Out! Out, both of you! I'll do it myself. My God, imagine sitting down for dinner and seeing those things on your plate... "

Her mutters trailed off into a stream of furious Italian as Dante and I reluctantly left the kitchen.

"My dumplings weren't that bad," he muttered during our walk down the hall. "Were they?"

"They were..." I tried to speak through my laughter. "They were pretty bad. I'm so sorry."

"You're supposed to have my back, Mrs. Russo," Dante said pointedly, but a small smile curved his lips. "However, Greta interrupting us might be a blessing in disguise."

"Oh? And why's that?" I cocked an eyebrow even as my heart sped up at the devilish gleam in his eyes.

All remaining levity faded when he pulled me close enough for our bodies to press against each other. Heat bloomed in its place, spreading through my veins and curling low in my stomach as he rubbed a thumb over my hip.

"Never finished dirtying you up in the kitchen," he drawled. "Now I get to finish the job."

The words pulsed between my legs.

It was early February in New York, but I suddenly wished the air-conditioning was on instead of the heat. I was burning up.

"Who said I'll let you?" I breathed, but another sigh escaped when Dante dipped his head and skimmed his lips over my neck.

It was unfair. He knew I had a weakness for neck kisses.

"Hmm..." He kissed his way leisurely up to my mouth. "I can be very convincing."

"I don't know." The butterflies returned, more numerous than ever. "I might need a lot of convincing..."

I felt him smile. "Then it's a good thing we have all night."

We didn't try returning to the kitchen that night. Instead, we retreated to our bedroom where, hours later, I could confirm his claim with one hundred percent confidence: my husband was, in fact, very convincing.

Isabella

"I'VE CHANGED MY MIND. BOXING IS MY FAVORITE sport." I leaned back and admired the view over a can of Coke. "I can't believe I've been sleeping on it for so long."

Vivian slid a sideways glance at me. "You don't have a favorite sport," she pointed out. "You said, quote, sports are for boring people who have nothing better to do than to watch other people live and play."

"Yes, well, that's why I also said I changed my mind." I took a sugary sip of soda before setting it aside. "There's nothing better than a good show."

It was Thursday night, and Vivian and I had foregone our usual happy hour drinks for the dark confines of Valhalla's boxing gym. Watching sweaty men pummel each other wasn't typically my idea of a good time, but it was different when one of the men was my boyfriend.

I leaned forward and propped my chin in one hand with a dreamy sigh.

Several feet away, Kai dodged a hook from Dante and countered with an uppercut, which Dante sidestepped. Their bare torsos gleamed with perspiration, and concentration hardened their features into stone masks. I could practically smell the testosterone dripping into the air.

It was hot as hell.

"That's it, babe!" I cheered when Kai finally landed a punch. "Knock him out!"

He didn't answer or take his eyes off Dante, but I thought I saw his mouth kick up in a smile before it straightened again.

Vivian knocked her knee against mine. "Watch it. That's my husband you're talking about." She winced when a fresh cut opened above Dante's eye. "I can't believe you talked me into this. We could be drinking margaritas in Chelsea right now."

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you've never been curious about their matches."

I'd begged and pleaded for Kai to let me watch him box dozens of times over the past two years (the snippet I'd glimpsed the day he lost the first CEO vote didn't count). He'd finally relented last week. I suspected the blowjob I'd been giving him at the time had something to do with it, but concessions made during sex were still concessions. No takebacks allowed.

All that pleading was totally worth it. Seeing Dante's aggressive power pitted against Kai's smooth, lethal grace was like watching fire battle water. It was mesmerizing.

That being said, I was happy to return to my regularly scheduled happy hour next week... after I finished drinking in every second of tonight's visual deliciousness.

"I was a little curious," Vivian admitted. "But I can safely say that boxing is not for me. It's too violent." She flinched again when Kai almost landed a second punch. "No wonder Dante comes home with cuts and bruises so often."

"That's the point," I said. I was ninety percent a pacifist - the remaining ten percent was reserved for people who deserved a little roughing up, like predatory criminals and assholes who didn't tip their servers - but I wasn't opposed to a fight every now and then. Besides, Kai and Dante were friends. It wasn't like they were going to kill each other.

"If you want, you can kiss his bruises better when you get home," I added with a teasing grin. "I'm sure he won't mind."

Rosy pink colored Vivian's cheeks. "He's the one who insists on boxing every week. He can tend to his own wounds," she said haughtily, but she slid another worried glance at the ring.

My grin widened. It was pretty cute seeing the elegant, sophisticated Vivian fuss over her husband. Granted, it was a lot cuter now that I had a partner of my own to fuss over, but still.

"How's the engagement going?" she asked on cue. "Still in the bliss stage?"

I couldn't stop butterflies from swooping through my stomach at the word engagement. "You could say that."

Kai and I had officially been engaged for a month. I'd been so shocked when he proposed at CBNYP that it'd taken me a full minute to work the yes out of my mouth, but once I did, it'd all been uphill from there. I barely remembered what happened that day besides lots of tears, laughter, and sex (once we were alone, of course. Family voyeurism was not my thing).

We had to face the reality of wedding planning eventually, but for now, we were content reveling in our new relationship status.

Engaged. More butterflies escaped.

Sneaking around with Kai all those years ago had been a thrill, but nothing beat simply being together. It was a normal, healthy relationship, and I'd never been happier. Personally, I thought bliss was an understatement, but I kept that to myself. I was learning not to share everything about my personal life.

However, I couldn't resist telling Vivian a teensy-weensy bit of news. She was my best friend, which meant she barely counted as a third party.

"Speaking of Kai, his birthday's coming up. Guess what I bought him?" I said with a proud smile.

"I'm afraid to ask."

I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Dinosaur-printed boxers. I custom-made them on one of those sketchy-looking but legit sites."

"Isa."' Vivian looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or be appalled. "What did we say about those sites? Remember what happened the last time you ordered from one of them?"

"I read all the reviews on Trustpilot before I ordered this time," I said defensively. I'd learned my lesson after the vibrator debacle a few years ago. The supposedly state-of-the-art toy arrived exactly as pictured... only ten sizes too small. The only "people" who could possibly enjoy it were my Barbie dolls from fifth grade. "Besides, I think Kai will appreciate the joke. Dinosaurs are special to us."

I was slowly but surely bringing him deeper into the dino erotica world. He read the books to indulge me, but I suspected part of him actually enjoyed them.

"I'm definitely not going to ask." Vivian's voice glimmered with laughter.

"It's better you don't." I brushed a strand of hair out of my eye. "I tried to find dinosaur-printed condoms, but those were much harder-"

A light cough interrupted my spiel about the appalling lack of reptilian novelty condoms. I looked up, surprised to see Kai and Dante standing before us with varying expressions of amusement and bemusement, respectively.

I'd been so caught up in my conversation with Vivian I hadn't noticed the end of their match.

"Talking about condoms again, love?" Kai drawled. This time, his smile was obvious. "At this point, Trojan owes you commission."

Heat crawled over my skin, but I shook it off as I popped up from the bench. "Well, if you want to put in a word to the CEO for me, I wouldn't mind." I stood on tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. "Congrats on winning, babe. I didn't doubt you for a second. Not even when Dante knocked you into the ropes."

Kai laughed and wrapped an arm around my waist, drawing me closer. He gave me a second, deeper kiss that sent the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. "Thank you for your unwavering faith, but we ended in a tie."

"A tie isn't a loss, which means it's basically a win. Right, Viv?" I glanced at Vivian, who was busy examining Dante's cuts. They couldn't hurt that much, but the big, bad CEO of the Russo Group seemed content to keep his mouth shut as she worried over him. He rested a hand on her hip and bent his head toward hers when she murmured something that made him grin.

"Never mind," I said. At this rate, I'd be lucky if they remembered there were other people in the room. "You understand what I'm saying."

"It's hard to argue with such compelling logic," Kai quipped. "I'm going to shower and change, but it's still early. What do you feel like doing later? There's a visiting orchestra at... ah. I assume your grimace signifies a no."

"No musical performances tonight." My interest in classical music hovered only a few degrees north of my interest in dissecting thousand-page Latin textbooks. "I'm in the mood for something more interactive."

A gleam brightened his eyes.

"Not that kind of interactive. Get your mind out of the gutter." I swallowed a laugh when disappointment crossed his face. "You have to earn it."

"Since when?" He looked like a schoolboy who'd been told he couldn't have dessert.

"Since always. What type of girl do you think I am?" I said primly, even though I'd caved embarrassingly fast last night when he came home with my favorite pepperoni-free pizza. And last week, when our movie date ended with us christening the couch (again). And the week before that, when... well, you get the picture.

"A stubborn one." Kai notched an eyebrow. "So no performances and no sex. That leaves..."

"Scrabble," we finished in unison.

Kai laughed again when I groaned and buried my face in his chest. "We are so boring. What happened to us being a fun, young couple?"

"We're attending Xavier's party this weekend," he said. "I guarantee it'll fill our fun quota for at least two weeks. He takes his parties seriously."

I heaved a dramatic sigh. "I suppose you're right."

The truth was, as much as I pretended to complain, I loved our nights in. Food, wine, and board games followed by hours of amazing sex? It was a quadruple win. I just couldn't let it slide without some protest. I had a reputation to uphold.

Plus, tonight would be the night I finally beat him at Scrabble. I was sure of it.

____________________

Kai

THE MINUTES PASSED WITH DEAFENING TICKS AND tocks while Isabella stared at the board, her brow scrunched with adorable concentration.

We'd left Dante and Vivian at Valhalla two hours ago and jumped straight into a game of Scrabble when we arrived at my apartment. It was one of our closest matches yet.

"I hate to rush you, love," I said. "But if you don't make a move soon, we'll be fossilized alongside the tiles."

"Shh." She didn't look up from her letters. "Stop trying to distract me with your sexy British accent. It won't work."

"I'm not-"

"Uh-uh." She held up a finger. "Distraction. Cheating. Unfair."

I shook my head, my mouth softening into a smile despite myself. The competitiveness I usually felt when playing, well, anything had mellowed around Isabella over the years. When I was with her, I could enjoy our games instead of hyper-focusing on winning.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

She was only a few points behind, and after another excruciating two minutes, she laid out her tiles. Jazzy. Thirty-three points.

Surprise pinched my chest, followed by a slow bloom of pride."Congratulations. You won."

Isabella finally glanced up, looking dazed. "I won?"

"Yes." I tapped the board. "By quite a few points, too"

"I won," she repeated. Realization gradually dawned, replacing her earlier disbelief. "Oh my God, I won. I won, I won, I won!"

I laughed when she tackled me into a hug/kiss. For once, I wasn't upset about losing. If I had to lose to anyone, I'd choose her. Every time.

"I've dethroned you as the Scrabble champion, which means I deserve a prize." Isabella twined her arms and legs around me. My back was pressed against the couch, so I was still sitting upright despite the force of her tackle. "What'll it be?"

"Depends." I slid a hand up her back and over the nape of her neck. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Hmm. I think I'm in the mood for..." Her breath hitched when my other hand smoothed over the curve of her ass. "Something interactive."

"Another game of Scrabble?" I inched my way around and down her thigh.

"Close, but fewer words. More action." Isabella gasped at the brush of my fingers over her soft skin. She was wearing a dress, which was convenient for several of the activities I had in mind.

"Ah." I nodded sagely. "So you want to play poker."

"Kai" Her mock glare melted into a moan as my hand trailed up toward her heat. A flush darkened her cheeks, and her head tipped back, eyes closed, when I pushed her underwear to the side and stroked her clit.

My soft chuckle floated between us before I tightened my grip around the back of her neck with my other hand and kissed her again. After two years, she still tasted as sweet as the first time. Even more so, because as attracted as I'd been toward her during our first kiss, I'd fallen more in love with her every day since.

Her fingers slid into my hair, our clothes fell to the floor, and then I was inside her, drawing out her screams and moans while I fucked her against the couch.

Heat and sweat and bare, slick skin. I couldn't get enough of it. I couldn't get enough of her. No matter how long we'd been together, I would never get over the fact that she was mine, and I knew her body so well by now that it didn't take long before she was crying out my name again.

I came soon after her, and we slumped onto the floor, exhausted but satiated.

"Not bad, Young," Isabella said breathlessly. "Nine out of ten. One point taken away for the placement at the end. I think have the shape of a Scrabble tile imprinted on my ass."

I laughed. "Guess I'll have to try for an eleven out of ten next time to make up for it." I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to my chest. "You know, you'll be a Young soon, too."

Mrs. Isabella Young. The mere thought sent my heart into overdrive.

I grew up thinking marriage would be an obligation like taxes or paying the bills. I never expected the way seeing my ring on her finger would knock the breath out of my lungs.

"Only after I survive the wedding planning." She tipped her chin up to meet my eyes. A flicker of concern dampened her contentment. "Be honest. How terrified should I be of your mother during that stage?"

"It won't be that bad," I reassured her. "She gets a say on the guest list, and that's what she really cares about."

Isabella and my mother had settled into a civil, even friendly relationship over the years. My mother had relaxed quite a bit since she stepped down as CEO, and I suspected she found Isabella's unfiltered thoughts refreshing after being surrounded by yes people all her life, though she'd never admit it.

She'd greeted the news of our engagement with surprising calm, but she had insisted on invitation input. Neither Isabella nor I resisted. Some battles weren't worth fighting.

"Right." Isabella drew her bottom lip between her teeth. "I just want to make sure everything goes well. I don't want to turn into Bridezilla or get into a huge fight with your mom before the wedding."

We'd set the date for a year and a half from now. We'd started visiting potential wedding venues, but we hadn't jumped into the thick of preparations yet. Both of us wanted to enjoy the engagement phase without worrying about place settings and floral arrangements, but that window was closing soon.

"There are so many decisions to make. Where to get married, who to invite, what food to serve..." Stress leaked into her voice.

"We'll figure it out." I kissed the top of her head. "I don't care whether we get married in a church, a castle, or a community center in Brooklyn as long as we're together."

Isabella's face softened. "Sometimes, you can be pretty damn sweet when you're not being insufferable."

"Sometimes? Who was the one who ordered the full set of signed Wilma Pebbles paperbacks for your birthday without you having to ask?"

"I literally left the sales page open on my computer and highlighted the collection so you'd see it when I went to shower."

"I don't snoop through your computer," I said, even though I may have glimpsed the highlighted item during a passing glance. "I'm offended by your estimation of my character."

Her laugh filled the room. "Well, far be it from me to sully the perfect Kai Young's character. Oh!" She snapped her fingers. "That gives me an idea. How do you feel about a Jurassic Park wedding theme? But luxe Jurassic Park, if you know what I mean. Think of how cool the cake would look if it had claw marks revealing a red velvet center..."

A smile touched my lips as Isabella rambled off her ideas. She was the only person I knew who could sell a dinosaur-themed luxury wedding (not that I was fully on board with the idea. I wasn't a huge reptile fan; Monty was one of the few exceptions).

Isabella and I were different in so many ways, but our differences were what made us work. Despite all my awards, accomplishments, and accolades, I'd felt like I was missing something until I met her. It wasn't until she blazed into my life that I realized what that missing piece was.

Balance.

She was the yin to my yang, the day to my night. We were two halves of a whole, and with her, I was finally complete.

"Far be it from me to question your decisions, but is there a reason we've circled the block four times in the past..." I checked my watch. "Twenty minutes with no discernible destination in sight?"

"No particular reason." Sloane turned the corner, her expression suspiciously neutral. "It's so beautiful out, I figured we could go for a nice walk."

I narrowed my eyes.

Sloane had been acting weird since we left brunch with our friends earlier. It was Saturday afternoon, which we usually reserved for wandering the city and browsing the piles of old DVDs and VHS tapes at the dusty video shop in St. Mark's Place. That was where we'd discovered a veritable treasure trove of foreign rom-coms.

However, she'd insisted on coming straight home today, which already raised warning flags. Then, when we were only minutes away, she'd changed tunes and said we should take a walk (or four) around the block.

Something smelled fishy, and it wasn't the smoked salmon from brunch.

"You hate walks," I said.

"Incorrect. I love walks."

I resisted pointing out that mowing down tourists in Midtown while berating some poor, incompetent soul over the phone for their mistakes didn't quite count as a "walk." I've learned to pick my battles over the years.

"You hate slow walks," I amended.

"This isn't slow." She stepped to the side to allow a mother pushing a stroller to pass.

"Luna, if we moved any slower, we might as well call the mayor and declare ourselves the city's newest statues."

Sloane's neutral expression cracked, and a small smile flickered over her face. "You are so dramatic. It's endearing."

An answering smile tugged on my mouth before I flattened it. She wasn't going to distract me with her compliments this time, nor was she going to distract me with the laughing sparkle in her eyes or the scent of her perfume or the way her hair shone beneath the sun. Even after years of dating, she never failed to take my breath away.

That being said, I still wanted to know why the fuck she wouldn't let us go home.

Answers first, admiration later.

"You're up to something," I said. "Spill it, or we're not watching The Baker's Royal Christmas this weekend." 

That put a halt to her step. "You'd deprive me of a holiday rom-com in December?" She gasped, sounding genuinely offended. "When Christmas is only two weeks away?"

I could never deprive her of anything and we both knew it, but I had to pretend for dignity's sake.

"I'm not depriving you. I'm giving you options," I drawled. "What's it gonna be, Luna? Another walk around the block or a nice, cozy night in with popcorn, hot chocolate, and ninety minutes of watching another baker and prince fall in love?"

Sloane's glare could've melted the entire Arctic Circle. "This is why I never do nice things for people," she grumbled. "They turn around and-"

The chime of an incoming call interrupted what I was sure would've been a scathing rant about my audacity to threaten our annual holiday traditions.

I suppressed another grin as she answered her phone. I would never tire of riling her up, but I'd also picked up on her nice things slip-up, which was why I didn't bother hiding my interest as she walked away and lowered her voice.

I tried to edge closer and eavesdrop, but I could only pick up faint snippets.

"It's done? Perfect... because they're idiots... no... Monday off. Thanks, Jillian." After another minute or two, she hung up and turned toward me, her earlier glare melting into an innocent smile. "You know what? I'm tired and could use a nap. Let's go home."

My eyes narrowed again.

Sloane didn't nap. She thought naps were reserved for cats and the laziest portion of society, but again, I held my tongue until we arrived at our house five minutes later.

The entire time, my mind whirred trying to figure out what nice things she could've been referring to and what they had to do with Jillian.

Sloane had finally given her assistant an emergency key to our house a few months ago. It made things easier for work since she worked from her office only half the time these days; the rest was spent with her clients or working from home.

But what could she possibly need Jillian's help with on the weekend that wasn't work related? Maybe it was work related and had nothing to do with Sloane's odd behavior, but I doubted it since she immediately abandoned our "nice walk" after the call.

Sloane Kensington, what are you up to?

Jillian was already gone by the time we got home, so I couldn't pick up any clues from her. Luckily, I didn't need to.

Sloane and I had accumulated various tchotchkes and souvenirs from our travels over the years. They were taking over the house, but when we entered the living room, my eye immediately latched onto the medium-sized box sitting on the floor. It hadn't been there when we'd left for brunch that morning, and just like that, the pieces clicked into place.

"So that's why you were being so sneaky. You were waiting for Jillian to drop that off." I clucked my tongue."Sneaky."

Sloane didn't bother denying it. "You should join the FBI with your deduction skills," she said dryly.

"Don't deflect. That's my Christmas gift, isn't it?" I joked. "Luna, you shouldn't have."

I was teasing. We never exchanged gifts until actual Christmas morning, so when her cheeks tinted pink, my eyebrows skyrocketed.

"Actually, it is," she admitted. "I couldn't wait until the twenty-fifth for... logistical reasons."

"What do you-"

A thump inside the box interrupted me.

I froze. Was that...?

No. It can't be.

"Open it." Now that we were home, Sloane's earlier neutrality slipped away, revealing an uncharacteristic touch of nerves.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as I walked toward the middle of the living room floor. My heart slammed against my ribcage; she wasn't the only nervous one in the room, though I had no reason for it other than an increasing suspicion of what waited inside the box.

When I got closer, I saw little air holes poked into the sides, and my suspicions swung from pretty sure to sure sure.

Still, I didn't allow myself to breathe until I opened the box and...

Fuck. There she was.

My throat closed at the sight of big brown eyes gazing up at me with pure trust and adoration. She looked so small in that big box, and it brought me right back to my childhood, when I'd opened a similar box and seen a similar face greeting me.

I'd been here before. Not this exact place and time, but the emotions, the instant bond, the weight on my chest, they hadn't changed.

"It's a chocolate Lab," Sloane said when I simply stared at the puppy in silence. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. "You always say how much you miss Hershey, and every time we pass the dog park, you get this look on your face... We have Feisty, but he's not the same as a dog, and I thought... Anyway, we can take her back if you don't-"

"Luna."

"Yes?" Nerves played across her face, and if I didn't already know I loved her beyond imagining, I would've fallen right then and there.

"You're fucking incredible."

The rose on her cheeks deepened. "So you like her." Relief softened the question into a statement.

Sloane would never admit it, but there was still a part of her that worried she wasn't warm enough or empathetic enough to be "normal," and it killed me. She was dealing with that part better than before, but I supposed our insecurities would always have a hold on us, no matter how small. They were what made us human.

Besides, while Sloane may not verbalize her feelings as openly or frequently as others, the thought behind her actions ran deep.

It wasn't about the number of times someone said I love you; it was about how they expressed it-like buying a puppy because they picked up on how much their partner wanted one, even when they themselves were not fans of anything that shed indoors.

"Like her? Are you kidding?" I gently scooped the puppy out of the box and held her close to my chest. "This is my daughter."

Said puppy's tongue lolled out in a doggy grin, and my heart constricted. I hadn't gotten another dog after Hershey because I didn't want to suffer the pain of losing another pet, and my lifestyle hadn't exactly been conducive to dog ownership. But now that Sloane and I lived together and I'd come to terms with the past, the desire for a canine companion had reared its head again in recent months.

I hadn't realized Sloane would notice, but of course she had. She always did.

Sloane rolled her eyes even as her mouth curled into a smile. "Daughter? Now you're really being dramatic."

"It's part of my charm." I kissed the top of the puppy's head. "Where did you get her?"

"An acquaintance of an acquaintance's brother's dog just had puppies, so it was perfect timing." She heaved a sigh. "They were supposed to be home earlier so Jillian could pick up one of the puppies and bring her here, but there was some miscommunication regarding the timing because apparently, they don't know how to use a calendar. Hence, the reason for our aimless walk in the cold earlier."

"Aimless, huh? I thought it was a nice walk." I laughed when Sloane leveled me with another glare. "I'm kidding. Thank you, Luna." I walked over and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. "This is... fuck, this is the best gift I've ever gotten. Truly."

"You're welcome." Her face softened. "I'm glad you're happy."

The ache behind my ribs deepened. No matter how long we've been together, there were still days where I couldn't believe she was mine.

"What are you going to name her?" Sloane asked.

I inspected the tiny puppy curled in my arms. Glossy brown fur, floppy ears, sweet eyes. I was tempted to name her Hershey too. I liked the moniker, and she looked like my old friend in so many ways, but it would be a disservice to compare them. 

It was time for something new.

"Coco," I decided. "She looks like a Coco." I couldn't explain why, but it felt right.

"First Hershey, now Coco." Sloane shook her head in mock disappointment. "At least you didn't name her Snickers."

"Hey, someone who named her fish Feisty has no business judging others' pet names." I held Coco up so we were at eye level. "Isn't that right, Coco?"

Her doggy grin widened, and she let out a small bark of agreement.

"A Daddy's girl already," Sloane grumbled. "Don't forget I was the one who brought you here, Coco."

However, her ire visibly melted when Coco turned her head and nuzzled her hand, and after a few seconds, Sloane caved and reluctantly scratched her behind her ears.

"Don't make me regret this," she warned the delighted puppy. "Or I'm taking you back to the Upper East Side where they'll dress you in ugly frou-frou sweaters and pom pom booties. Got it?"

Coco barked again, this time with audible concern.

"Don't listen to your mom," I told her. "She's all bark and no bite in this household." I paused. "Well, sometimes she bites, but in a good way."

"Xavier!"

I laughed again when Sloane's face flushed the color of the red velvet stockings lining our mantel. We'd been deep in Christmas decoration mode, and the house was coming together nicely, if I did say so myself (though she'd nixed my idea to install an electronic Santa that dispensed mugs of hot chocolate to visitors in the foyer).

"I'm kidding. Coco doesn't understand human innuendo anyway." I wrapped my free arm around Sloane's waist and brought her close. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

The corners of her mouth twitched up. "Occasionally."

"Only occasionally? Then I'm not doing a good enough job." I brushed my lips over hers. "I love you, Sloane Kensington. Always and forever."

"Forever is a long time."

"Not long enough."

"You are so freaking cheesy," she said, but that didn't stop her from returning my kiss or from sighing when I tangled my hand in her hair.

"I love you too, Xavier Castillo," she murmured. "Always and forever."

The ache expanded past my chest and into every fucking molecule of my body.

Maybe the sentiment was cheesy, but I meant it and I knew she did too. There was life before Sloane, and life after her. The before part had lasted too long, and like I said, the after part wasn't long enough.

But there was no point dwelling on the past or future when the present had everything I could ask for, and later that night, when Sloane, Coco, and I settled in for an early viewing of The Baker's Royal Christmas with the promised hot chocolate and popcorn, I knew that this, right here?

This was all I'd ever need.

Maya

"Aaaaahhh!"

Sebastian rolled over onto his side and groaned. He cracked one eye open, his voice thick with grogginess as he said, with equal parts amusement and exasperation, "I love you, Sal, but I thought we'd agreed to keep the morning scream wake-up calls to a minimum during our honeymoon."

I blushed. Okay, so I may have a history of waking him up with unsolicited screams, but I always had a good reason for it!

"Sorry, but look what flew into our room." I pointed at the opposite end of our open-air suite.

Yes, open-air. As in, it was missing a wall. The resulting ocean views were spectacular, but the island critters that kept nosing around our room? Much less spectacular.

Sebastian's gaze followed my finger to where a hummingbird sat perched on the railing. When they made eye contact, the bird cocked its head and chittered like we were intruding on its space instead of the other way around.

My way-calmer-than-he-should've-been husband laughed. "It's just a hummingbird. It's cute."

"It would be cute - if it were outside." A horrifying image of the bird flying into my hair and/or pooping all over our belongings flashed through my head. I shuddered.

We were in St. Lucia, the fourth stop of our whirl-wind honeymoon trip, and Sebastian had booked us the most luxurious resort on the island. Unfortunately, the resort was famous for its "seamless integration with nature," hence the open-air suites, and while it was miles better than camping, I really would've preferred a fourth wall. The ocean views would've been just as nice through a layer of glass.

"Technically, the bird is outside," Sebastian pointed out.

"Don't make me put you in sex jail during our honeymoon," I said. "Look at it. It's spying on us."

The hummingbird had been laser focused on us the entire time. It hopped from one leg to the other, its eyes tracking my movements with unnerving intensity as I reached for my nightgown on the floor. I was naked under the covers, and being naked in front of a strange animal seemed far too vulnerable.

Sebastian and I had, ahem, discarded our clothes haphazardly after dinner last night, but thank god my nightgown was close enough for me to-

The flutter of wings filled the air right as my fingers grazed my nightgown.

"Aaaaahhh!" Another scream tore from my throat as the bird took flight and zoomed toward me with what I swore was malicious determination on its little feathered face.

I dove under the covers and pulled them over my head. My heart crashed against my ribcage as another, even more nightmarish image of the hummingbird somehow swelling to Jurassic-like proportions and carrying me off in its giant talons filled my head.

A part of me knew I was being irrational, and I even knew why I might be more anxious than usual, but that didn't matter. I could still hear wings flapping dangerously close to my head, and I swear, if that bird-

The flapping suddenly faded.

"You can come out." Sebastian's voice sounded suspiciously strangled. "The bird's gone."

I hesitated, then slowly lowered the covers and peeked out over the top. The first thing I saw was a blessedly bird-free room.

The second thing I saw was my husband standing by the bed, his shoulders shaking with silent mirth.

"Sorry," he wheezed. "But you should've seen your face when that bird flew toward you. I wish I'd-" He broke into fresh laughter, which only intensified when I threw a pillow at him. It bounced off his disgustingly chiseled frame and thudded to the floor.

"That wasn't funny!" I said, even as my own mouth started to curl up. Now that the Bird Threat had been neutralized, I felt much better, though I certainly wasn't going to give Sebastian the satisfaction of backing down so fast. We were married, not dead. I still wanted to one-up him at basically everything. "I could've died."

Sebastian didn't bother gracing me with a response. He simply laughed harder.

Eventually, I caved and joined him. Giggles spilled out until we were both doubled over, tears in our eyes. In hindsight, my freak-out over a little hummingbird was pretty funny (but that bird had been an evil, disruptive spy, and I stood by that).

"I swear I'm not a high-maintenance princess," I said once we got ourselves under control. "You know I love all living creatures big and small" - at Sebastian's arched brow, I amended my statement - "I love most living creatures big and small, but unless they're a cute, fluffy pet, they freak me out when they get too close. Anyway, I'm sorry for being a brat about the open-air suite thing. I love this resort. Really." My voice softened. "Thank you for organizing everything."

So far, our honeymoon had been a whirlwind of sights and experiences. Sebastian had pulled out all the stops, alternating destination types so we got a little taste of everything. We'd started with an adventure-packed trip in Iceland, where we'd explored glaciers, waterfalls, and dramatic volcanic landscapes. From there, we decamped to a wellness retreat in the Swiss mountains for rest and restoration before we kicked things up a notch again with a hot air balloon ride and private camel trek in Morocco, among other activities.

St. Lucia was the tropical leg of our mini world tour, and we'd spent the entire trip doing nothing except having sex, lazing at the beach, and indulging in special activities like the resort's signature chocolate-making class. Close calls with local fauna aside, it was everything I could've asked for.

"You weren't being a brat." Sebastian slid back into the bed next to me. I curled up against him as he wrapped an arm around my waist. "I'm sorry for not thinking through this open-air thing. I should've booked us an enclosed villa instead."

"No, it's really okay. I mean, look at those views." I gestured at the breathtaking vista in front of us. Turquoise waters, clear skies, the iconic Pitons rising above it all - you couldn't find that in Manhattan. Not even close. "How can anyone be mad when they're in paradise?"

Sebastian made a noise of agreement in this throat. "I'm going to miss this place."

"Me too. Only one more destination until we have to go home," I said wistfully. "I can't believe it's been almost a month."

"We might have to go home soon, but that doesn't mean we can't travel again in the future," Sebastian said. "Wherever you want to go, tell me. We'll make it happen."

"I know. But it won't be the same." I snuggled deeper against his chest and closed my eyes, basking in the strong, reassuring thythm of his heartbeats. "There's just something magical about this particular trip."

It wasn't merely the fact that it was our honeymoon, though that was part of it. It was like my nervous system had reset during this trip. I didn't know when exactly it happened, but I no longer braced myself, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Even though Sebastian and I had been together for years at this point, a tiny part of me had been convinced something bad would happen. We'd break up, or the wedding would be a disaster, or we'd miss our flights and get stranded in the middle of nowhere. I was so used to solving problems that when things were going well, I actively looked for problems to solve.

But I realized that I'd never have to worry about that with Sebastian. Even if we fought, or we ran into some unexpected obstacle, we'd always end up on our feet. Knowing that he'd be there for everything - the good and bad and everything in between - made a world of difference.

Emotional security. What a strange yet wonderful concept.

Sebastian kissed the top of my head. "You have your thinking face on," he said. "Penny for your thoughts."

"At the risk of sounding extremely cheesy, I was just thinking about how happy I am." I opened my eyes and looked up at him, my chest squeezing at the beautiful, familiar sight of his face. It was hard to believe I could love someone so much, especially when I'd spent the better part of my life convinced that I hated him instead. "Hummingbird scares notwithstanding."

He smiled, his expression tender. "If it makes you feel better, our next hotel will have four walls, so the chances of spontaneous animal encounters are slim."

"Really?" I perked up at the mention of our next hotel but tried to sound casual. "Tell me more."

"Nice try."

"Come on." I gave him my best puppy dog eyes. "Give me a hint, at least."

I'd tried my best to wrest the location of our last stop out of him, but he'd held fast. Even a surprise blowjob in the shower couldn't break him.

The man was strong, I'll give him that.

"Okay. It's a city we haven't visited yet on our honeymoon," Sebastian said.

"Wow. Very helpful."

"You said a hint. That was a hint."

"I meant a useful hint."

"You should've been more clear, Sal." But he finally relented an inch. "Let's put it this way. It's may be our honeymoon, but sometimes, it's fun to shake things up."

I frowned. "What does that mean?"

A mischievous glint entered his eyes. "You'll see. But I think you'll get a kick out of it."

____________________

Sebastian

Two days later

"Oh, he's going to kill you." Maya burst into laughter when we arrived at the restaurant. "Absolutely kill you."

I shrugged, a grin tugging at my mouth. "I'm not too worried. He'd have to answer to his wife, and we both know how that would go."

"This is too good." Maya looked positively delighted as she hurried over to say hi to Vivian, who greeted her with the effusiveness of a long-lost sister. Dante stood behind his wife, his face set in a menacing scowl.

"I'm going to murder you," he said when I came within earshot.

I clapped a hand on his shoulder, my grin widening. "Good to see you too, Russo."

He made a noise somewhere between a snarl and a growl, but he quickly forced his frown into a strained smile when Vivian and Maya stopped gushing over each other to glance in our direction.

"See? Look how happy they are," I said. "You know what they say. Happy wife, happy life."

"Fuck you," he said through his "smile," which looked more like a wild animal baring its teeth in preparation for a kill. "You owe me big-time, Laurent. You know I fucking hate double dates."

I did, and it made tonight even better.

Maya and I had arrived yesterday at the last city on my honeymoon itinerary - Bologna, Italy, widely considered the country's food capital. The birthplace of mortadella and iconic dishes such as lasagna alla bolognese, it was the perfectly fitting end to our trip.

It would've made more sense to do all our European stops back to back, but when I found out Dante and Vivian would also be in Bologna for vacation, I'd adjusted our dates so we overlapped. I'd secretly reached out to Vivian to arrange a meet-up, and she'd been happy to oblige.

Maya had always wanted to go on a double date with one of her friends, so this was something I could check off the bucket list for her. The fact that Dante despised double dates was just the cherry on top. He liked his alone time with his wife, but he also couldn't say no to her, so here we were.

Just because he was my friend didn't mean I'd pass on the chance to fuck with him.

"How's Josie doing?" Maya asked after the maitre'd seated us at our table. I'd reserved the best table at a cozy trattoria I'd stumbled upon during my last visit to Bologna. It wasn't super fancy, but it had a killer wine list and some of the best pasta I'd ever tasted. "She's growing so fast. I can't believe it."

"I know. It's almost scary, but she's wonderful." Vivian's face glowed with maternal pride. "She's with her grandparents. Dante's parents," she clarified. "They were in town, and they insisted on watching her while we're in Italy. They really want to spend more time with her."

Dante's parents were jet-setting hippie types who rarely stayed in one place for more than a few weeks at a time. They were basically the opposite of their grumpy, disciplined son, but they had good hearts.

"If we go home and find that they'd dyed her hair or bought her a pet caterpillar, we're going to have a problem," Dante grumbled.

"Greta will keep them in check," Vivian reassured him. Greta was their long-serving cook and housekeeper, and she ran a tight ship in the Russo household. "Anyway, enough about us." Vivian faced the table again. "Tell us more about your honeymoon. I saw the photos you posted, but I'm dying to hear the details. Did you really snorkel between tectonic plates in Iceland?"

"Oh my God, yes." Maya leaned forward, her expression growing more animated. "It was surreal. You wouldn't believe..."

I sat back and let her take the reins as she regaled the table with tales of our adventures over tagliatelle al ragù and wine. Maya was so wrapped up in her stories that she didn't even touch her drink, and Vivian seemed especially enamored by the Morocco portion of our trip.

"A hot air balloon ride sounds amazing!" She turned to her husband. "How come we've never gone hot air ballooning?"

I swallowed a laugh when Dante cast a quick but lethal glare in my direction. "We can if you want to," he said, his face noticeably softening when he spoke to his wife. "Maybe for our next trip."

Despite his crankiness and subtle attempts to kill me - I did not believe his knife could accidentally slip that far across the table - he eventually relaxed. By the time dessert rolled around, he even smiled, sort of (but not at me).

The food was incredible, Vivian and Maya were thrilled, and overall, it was a fantastic night.

After we said goodbye to our friends, Maya and I opted to walk back to our hotel instead of taking a cab. It was a beautiful evening, and we could use a long stroll after such a rich meal.

"That was fun, even if I was worried Dante might actually stab you in the middle of dinner," Maya said. "Thank you for risking your life to put that together."

"Anytime." I grinned. "Now you can say you've done something no one else has ever done. You've gone on a double date with Dante Russo present."

Maya smiled back, but there was a strange seriousness in her expression. She'd gotten quieter since we left the restaurant, and after a long beat, she said, "We might be seeing even more of them soon, especially because of Josie."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, our kid will need a playmate."

Our kid? We didn't have-

Holy shit.

I came to a dead stop in the middle of the sidewalk. I stared at Maya, who'd also stopped and was looking at me with bright eyes and a small, nervous smile.

My ears rang, and it took me a good minute to find my voice. When I did, I barely recognized the hoarseness that came out. "Are you..."

"My last period was late. I'm never late, so I took a pregnancy test when we were in St. Lucia and..." She took a deep breath. "It was positive. I'm pregnant."

I'm pregnant.

The words washed over me.

Maya.

Pregnant.

With our child.

The ringing in my ears intensified. My heart beat so fast I could hardly catch my breath.

"I wanted to tell you earlier, but I was waiting for the perfect time." She bit her bottom lip. "I also didn't want you to worry about me while we were on our honeymoon, but our trip's almost over and, well, it just felt like the right moment." When I didn't respond, she added, somewhat tentatively, "Are you mad?"

That snapped me out of my daze. "Mad? Are you kidding me?" Laughter spilled out, heady and unbidden. "I'm going to be a father!"

I picked her up and swung her around, my grin so wide it made my cheeks hurt. Maya squealed in surprise, but her laughter soon joined mine, only to cut off seconds later when I set her down and kissed her fiercely. We were attracting stares from passersby, but I didn't give a shit.

The only people who mattered was the one currently in my arms and the one we'll be holding nine months from now.

I couldn't wait to welcome our future son or daughter into the world, to teach them all about food and sports and art and anything else they might be interested in. I wanted the family outings and inside jokes, the group trips and traditions that organically spring up over the years. Most of all, I wanted them to know how deeply I loved them, each and every day.

I'd traveled across the world over the past month, but Maya and our future child? They were my world now - and I wouldn't have it any other way.