Chapter 19
Romeo
Ikill the light in the main room and move to the window. With one finger, I ease the curtain back just enough to get a clean view of the front porch.
I’m not really sure who I expected to see standing there, but it sure as hell wasn’t my head enforcer, Dominic ‘Dead End’ Rizzo.
What the fuck is he doing here, unannounced? I told him, explicitly, not to come back unless I invited him myself.
If I find out Lucia and he have been communicating behind my back, I’m going to lose my shit.
My gun is still clutched tightly in my hand as I stalk to the front door and throw it open. “What the fuck,” I growl.
Dominic flinches, then jerks his head towards the ground beside him. That’s when I see her, a tiny human with pigtails, clinging to his leg like a baby koala.
“She’s two, and at the age where she likes to repeat things,” he mutters.
“Who is that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
He glances down at the little girl again and fucking smiles. It’s an unsettling sight, like watching a wolf try to act cute. Smiling isn’t something you’d expect from a scary-looking meathead like him.
“This is Lil’ Peach,” he answers.
“Lil’ Peach?” I echo. “You have a kid, and you named her Peach?”
He frowns. No surprise there; this man frowns as if it’s a full-time job. But there’s something different about this one. Deeper. Sharper. More menacing. It’s as if my question personally offended him.
“There’s nothing wrong with her name,” he mutters. “And technically, she’s my sister’s kid. But since she’s an addict, I’ve pretty much been her caregiver since birth.”
His words hit harder than I expected, and I actually reel back a little. If anyone knows what that kind of situation feels like, it’s me. But before I can come up with a response, Lucia appears at my side.
“I told you to lock yourself in the bedroom,” I growl. “And to stay put! To not come out under any circumstances. Yet here you are.”
She lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “I was going to do as you asked, but then I changed my mind. What if you needed backup?”
This woman is going to be the death of me.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter under my breath. Low enough that the kid named after a damn piece of fruit doesn’t hear me. Peach. Seriously?
What the hell was her mother on when she picked that? Did she have the munchies, or did she decide to head for the produce aisle in search of the ideal baby name?
Lucia shrugs again, like this is no big deal.
It’s a huge fucking deal.
“What if it had been Salvatori or one of his guys at the door?” Just thinking about that is enough to give me a damn aneurysm.
“Obviously, it wasn’t,” she says, breezy as hell. “So, stop stressing.” She turns her attention to our uninvited guests. “Hey, Dom,” she chirps, her voice all syrup and sunshine, before crouching to eye the kid. “And who is this little cutie pie?”
That damn smile crawls back onto Dom’s face, and honestly, it’s creeping me the hell out.
“Lucia, this is my niece, Lil’ Peach,” he says as he shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and stands taller, puffing out that ridiculous, massive chest of his, like he’s a proud father.
His eyes soften when they move down to the kid. “Remember those yummy cookies I brought home last week? Lucia made them.”
Peach’s big, brown eyes shift from her uncle to my wife, wide and curious, and something in my chest—something I thought was sealed up tight—splinters open.
“Did you like my cookies?” Lucia asks gently.
The kid nods and presses herself closer against Dominic’s leg like it’s the safest place in the world.
Why do I feel this strange connection to her?
Why is her tiny presence yanking on my fucking heartstrings?
Maybe because I was her once.
And I can only guess what horrors she’s already seen at the hands of the woman who gave birth to her.
I clear my throat, snapping back into myself.
“Why are you here?” I bark.
Dominic rubs the back of his neck. “I’m in a bit of a jam.”
I narrow my eyes. “What kind of jam?”
“The boss wants me in Wyalong.”
I nod as a sick feeling settles in the pit of my gut. We’ve already lost three men to those fuckers, and I can only hope the others aren’t walking into a trap.
“When are you heading out?”
“We’re leaving in an hour, but my neighbour, the one who usually watches Lil’ Peach for me while I work, is out of town until tomorrow. So, I was wondering—”
“Oh my God, yes,” Lucia screeches, cutting him off. “Of course, we’ll look after her for you.”
My gaze snaps in her direction, and the excitement on her face pisses me off. “We will?”
Lucia’s eyes narrow slightly, and I swear my cock twitches in my pants. “I’m more than capable of taking care of her on my own.”
I don’t doubt that for a second.
“It’s just until tomorrow,” Dominic says. “Mrs B will be home midmorning. She can take over from there.”
“Mrs B?”
“My neighbour.”
“I hope you weren’t stupid enough to disclose our whereabouts.”
“Of course not,” he grumbles, sliding the tiny pink backpack off his shoulder and holding it out to me. “I wrote her number and address on a piece of paper. It’s in the front pocket. She’s happy to meet you somewhere if you don’t want to drop her off at the house.”
I wince slightly as I snatch the glittery bag out of his hand, letting it hang limp by my side.
Lucia’s eyes flicker between me and Dominic, and I know she can feel the tension hanging thick in the air. The truth is, I’m not even sure why I’m pissed.
Is it because he showed up here unannounced? Or is it this kid? This wide-eyed, quiet little human, who’s stirring up shit I’ve buried so deep I forgot it was even there?
It’s probably a bit of both, but underneath the frustration, there’s something else too, something more challenging to admit … admiration.
I respect the hell out of him because he showed up for this little girl. My uncle was there for me at times, usually when my mother was locked up. For the majority of my life, though, I was left to go it alone. I could’ve used a man like Dominic when I was young. Someone more permanent.
I can only imagine how hard this has been for him, because I know what I’ve been through with my mum, and some of that shit still haunts me. He could’ve walked away; most people would’ve. But he planted himself right in the middle of the fallout and put that kid first. That takes guts.
“I have some more of those cookies inside,” Lucia says, crouching back down in front of the kid. “Would you like to come inside and have some cookies and a glass of milk?”
Lucia holds out her hand, and Peach hesitates as she looks up at her uncle. When he nods, her tiny fingers curl up for a second, but then she reaches out and takes it, and I find myself releasing the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding.
“Have you eaten, Dom?” she asks, standing to her full height.
“Peach ate a sandwich on the way over, but I was going to grab something on the road.”
“Don’t be silly,” Lucia says. “We just sat down to dinner when you arrived. There’s plenty. Come eat with us before you go.”
She scoops Peach into her arms, and I catch one last glimpse of her before they vanish inside the house.
She’s a cute little thing, with a round cherub face, large brown eyes, and a cute button nose.
Her pigtails are crooked—one sitting noticeably higher than the other—and the part running down the centre of her hair zigzags instead of being straight, but even I can recognise the effort Dominic put in.
She’s dressed in clean, pink pyjamas dotted with tiny rainbows and clouds. Her slippers are shaped like fuzzy pink bunnies. This little girl is cared for; that much is obvious, which feels like such a stark contrast coming from a man who breaks legs and snaps necks for a living.
When we’re alone, Dominic’s eyes meet mine. “I can leave if you’d prefer. I only came here tonight because I was desperate. That tiny human means the world to me, so I’m picky about who I leave her with.”
I blow out a long breath because I know I’m acting like an arsehole. He’s Famiglia. And he’s about to risk his life by heading into enemy territory. The least I can do is send him off with a full stomach and the knowledge that his niece will be cared for until he returns.
“Come in,” I say, stepping aside to let him through.
Peach sits perched on her uncle’s lap at the table, and I’m trying hard not to stare, but fuck, I can’t seem to look away.
They’re sharing one plate of food as he feeds her delicate little forkfuls, between shovelling massive amounts into his own mouth.
His huge hand makes her head look impossibly small, yet he handles her with such care it almost doesn’t make sense.
My attention swings towards Lucia when she kicks the side of my leg under the table. I shoot her a look, brow raised, clearly asking, “What the fuck was that for?”
She answers without a word. Just a sharp glare that probably translates to, “They’re not a freak show. Stop staring at them like a damn creep.”
I clear my throat and force myself to concentrate on my own meal.
When they have finished their food, he delicately wipes her face and hands clean and stands.
“You be a good girl for Lucia and Romeo,” he tells Peach gently. “Romeo will take you to Mrs B’s tomorrow, and I’ll be home in a few days.”
She replies with a soft “Kay” and nods, but I don’t miss the faint quiver of her lower lip.
He sees it too because his brow furrows as he leans in to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “I’ll be back in a few days,” he murmurs.
As he pulls away, he taps the tip of a finger against his own cheek. The toddler responds without hesitation, planting her lips right where he indicated.
His huge hand brushes lightly over her uneven pigtails. It’s a gesture so tender it clashes with the ruthless man I know him to be, and it’s made all the more jarring when he adds, “I love you, Lil’ Peach, never forget that.”