Eternal Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 6) (12 page)

That wicked grin of his that makes my insides melt every single time. All these years later, I’m still a sucker for that cocky grin and those eyes. Man, those eyes, so cold and uninviting to everyone else, but to me they were home.

“I’m pretty sure they call them old ladies,” he corrects, taking hold of my hands again. “And no, I’m not buying a Harley although I wouldn’t mind seeing you on one.” he Winks, smiling faintly before his face grows serious. “I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t know life outside the mob.”

He leans his head against mine.

“You married a criminal, baby, that shit don’t fade,” he whispers, pressing his lips to mine fleetingly. “And while I’m not proud of it, I’m not sure I know how to be an upstanding citizen.” He lets out a breathy laugh before glancing around the gym. “I mean is this it?”

Cocking my head to the side, I wrap my arms around his neck and absorb his words. I understood that. The uncertainty of who you are. I feel it all the time and never voice it.

“I feel like a fucking pussy for even saying this,” he admits, before leveling me with a stare. “I love you. I love our kids and the life we made and I don’t want you to ever doubt that. You are everything I ever wanted and I have no regrets. Not a single one.”

“I get it,” I whisper, reaching up to thread my fingers through his black hair. “And I think what you’re feeling is as natural as breathing. You’re happy with your life but if you’re not a husband and father, who are you? I ask myself that every day, I just never thought enough to tell you. I ask myself, who am I, if I’m not Victor Pasture’s daughter, Anthony Bianci’s wife and Luca and Victoria’s mom. I mean, I don’t even have a job. I’m Adrianna Bianci, wife and mother, but then what?”

“And that’s not enough?”

“It is now, but will it always be?” I question.

I thought saying those words made me selfish. There are people who wish for my life, who want nothing more than to find their one true love, marry that person and raise a family. And here I am hoping the happy ending I wanted so badly will be enough for me. But the more I think about it, and think about what Anthony is saying, the more I realize I’m not being selfish, I’m being human.

“Who would’ve thought once we had it all we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves?” He asks, chuckling slightly as he pulls my head against his bare chest. “You know what?”

“Hmm?” I murmur against his skin, tracing our children’s names with my index finger.

“We have all the time in the world to figure out what we both want out of this life. We’ll figure it out and we’ll do it together,” he promises. “You and me, Reese’s, we’ll get it. We always do.”

“I know that,” I whisper, pulling back a little. “I want you to promise me you won’t shut me out. I want you to remember I know this life just as well as you and that I’ve lived it too. I might not miss it the same way you do but I will always understand it. Remember we both chose our life over that one, and when you’re missing the soldier in you, then you come to me and I’ll remind you why that soldier surrendered.”

“Yeah?” He rasps, running his hands down my back. “How you going to remind me?”

His fingers toy with the hem of my tank top, inching it up my body as I voluntarily lifted my arms over my head, inviting him to remove my shirt.

“Leave that to me, Bianci.” I wink at him. “I promise to always keep it fresh,” I add, as he stands and pulls the shirt over my head. His eyes dip to my full chest that threatens to burst out of the sports bra I’m wearing.

“Promise me,” I whisper as his eyes find mine.

“I promise you, Reese’s,” he hisses, bending down as he slides his palms under my ass and lifts me off the bench. “Now, give me that mouth of yours,” he demands as I wrap my legs around his waist. “And let me at you.”

“Uncle Mikey, again!” Luca shouts in between giggles.

“Guys, keep it down,” I whisper-shout, as I stare down at my niece. I didn’t realize how much a baby could cry. Jesus, I don’t remember Luca being this much work, but then again I was nineteen when he was born. Ah, nineteen—when all that mattered was what outfit I’d wear to the next hot club.

Mikey comes barreling into the living room with Luca on his shoulders. My nephew’s arms spread wide and his little lips were trying to make airplane noises.

“It’s a bird. No, it’s a plane. Wait a minute…it’s Luca Bianci!” Mikey says as the pair zoom around the couch.

“What time did they say they were coming to get their kids? Never mind, call your sister and tell her if they’re not here within the hour we’re charging them.”

“Uncle Mikey,” Luca sings. “Fly!”

“Call. Her. Now.”

“My hands are kind of full,” I say, staring down at Victoria who is sprawled across my chest. She looks so angelic when she sleeps but she has her mother’s horns when she’s awake. I can’t wait until she grows up—oh the fun.

The doorbell rings and Mikey looks to the ceiling.

“You do exist.” He averts his eyes back to mine. “He does exist!”

“Careful, baby it might be Aunt Gina,” I tease, throwing him a wink before he flips me the finger and answers the front door.

“There’s my boy!” Adrianna cheers.

“Yes, here he is,” Mikey says as he crouches down to remove Luca from his shoulders.

“But I don’t want to leave! Mommy I want to live with Aunt Nikki and Uncle Mikey,” Luca exclaims.

“What? No! We have monsters under the beds,” Mikey blurts, lifting Luca into his arms. “But you can visit whenever you want,” he continues, ruffling the top of his hair before handing him to Anthony. “As long as Daddy picks you up after an hour. Seriously, what happened to watch the kids for an hour I have to go to the gym,” he chastises, turning his attention to my sister.

“We had a little one on one sparing match,” Adrianna hints, wrapping her arms around Anthony’s waist.

“Oh, that’s just dirty,” Mikey groans.

“You two look like you had things under control,” Anthony says, lifting Luca onto his shoulders.

“Come and get your daughter,” I whisper to my sister. “She just fell asleep.”

We all walk into the living room together, my sister and Anthony pause in their tracks and stare at me like I had grown a second head or something. Mikey plops down on the sofa across from me and wipes the sweat from his brow.

“Look at you guys playing house,” Anthony teases, raising an eyebrow at Mikey.

“Maybe it’s time Luca and Tori had a cousin,” Adrianna chimes in, taking a seat next to Mike and draping her arm around his back. “I can see you two running after a little Valente.”

“If you two have the baby itch then by all means keep breeding but leave us the hell out of it,” Mikey responds.

“Daddy, I’m tired,” Luca yawns.

“Yeah, it’s getting late. C’mon, Reese’s grab the baby,” he says before turning his gaze to Mikey. “Ain’t nothing like having a kid, man.”

My sister walks up to me, bends down to carefully transfer the sleeping beauty from one pair of arms to another.

“He’s right you know,” she whispers, cradling her daughter as she stares back at me. “You’ll be a great mom.”

I fake a smile, big and bright, and pretend like everything is right with the world. It’s not that I don’t want kids, actually, I’m not sure what I want. I never gave kids much thought. When Luca was born I decided to be the fun aunt and then Victoria came along and still I was content with being Aunt Nikki. I’ll be the one these kids come to when they’re too afraid to go to their mom and dad. I’ll be their ride when they get themselves into a jam and I’ll be the one who smooths things over when Anthony decides to kill Tori’s first boyfriend.

Aunt Nikki, the fun aunt.

I glance across the room at Mikey and watch him stand and press a kiss to Tori’s sleeping head before giving Luca a high five.

He jokes around a lot, complains even more, but, Mikey loves Luca and Tori. He’d be an awesome dad and if I close my eyes and let myself picture it, I can see us with a kid or two. But that’s an image my mind has to work for, one that doesn’t come naturally.

Since we were kids, my sister always talked about getting married and having babies. I swear she came out of the womb with a copy of
Modern Bride
tucked under her arm. I was the opposite. I never liked to play house and would rather hang out with the boys in the school yard than play with dolls.

Does it mean I’d be a crappy mom? I’m not entirely sure.

I stand as Mikey escorts Anthony and Adrianna to the door. I watch as he leans against the closed door and peers back at me.

“Thank God,” he cries. “I’m fucking beat.”

He locks the door behind him and pushes off it, reaching for me. “You coming to bed?”

“I’ll be right up,” I say, pressing my lips to his. “I need a fucking cigarette after all that.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.” I smile, lifting my hands to his cheeks. Mikey was my dream come true. Not too many people can say that they nabbed the guy they’ve always wanted—but me? I totally can. I often ask myself why me, why did I get the happily ever after? And sometimes I’m afraid to question it at all. Sometimes I just sit back and wait for the other shoe to drop because nothing is ever easy in life.

I watch Mikey climb the stairs before grabbing my cigarettes off the table and heading out to the back porch.

I knew it would happen eventually, I knew the other shoe would drop. I just assumed it would be something we could control, something we could work through. Something less threatening, less agonizing. I never expected the thing to rip apart my happiness to be an illness neither of us could control.

Taking a long pull of my cigarette, I try to ease my nerves and shake my head, hoping the thoughts will disappear. I’m overreacting which is so out of character for me. I’m not the girl that worries, or drives herself mad with maybes. I’m the girl that rolls with the punches and when life gives me lemons I make spiked lemonade—a shot or two of vodka and that shit is delicious.

So why am I sitting out here crying?

I angrily wipe my tears only for them to be replaced with fresh ones. Staring at the cigarette in my hand, watching as it burns, I realize I don’t even want it. I was hoping it would relieve my anxiety but all it does is remind me how bad smoking is for me. I flick it over the porch and jump when I hear the sliding door close behind me.

I turn my back to Mike and try to blow into my eyes to stop the tears.

“I’ll be right in,” I say quickly, willing my watering eyes not to betray me as he steps closer. His fingers knead my shoulders as he leans close.

“Princess,” he whispers.

I close my eyes as he slowly spins me around in his arms.

“Look at me,” he demands softly.

I can’t.

I want to disappear.

“Nikki, look at me,” he insists.

Clouded by unshed tears, I blink my brown eyes and peer into his that are full of concern and confusion.

“Shit,” he growls, wiping my cheeks with his thumbs. “Why are you crying?” I imagine Mike feels panicked watching me unravel. I can count on one hand how many times he’s seen me cry and three of them were over the last few weeks. He gets frazzled when I’m emotional, like I’m a freak of nature he doesn’t know how to handle.

I don’t blame him.

I hate emotional Nikki too.

“Is this about your dad again?”

Right. My dad. The reason everyone thinks I’m distraught. I suppose my dad being in prison is partially the reason I’m sad, but it’s not everything—it’s not the main reason I’ve been bursting into tears at the drop of a hat.

After Mikey proposed I was upset, and I cried whenever I thought about our wedding and how my dad wouldn’t be there. It’s not so much him not walking me down the aisle but knowing I won’t dance with him. I’m not even talking about the sappy dance a bride and her dad usually share, I’m talking about real dancing, where you break a sweat and have everyone on their feet watching you. Dancing was kind of our thing, we’d tear up the floor at every family function and on the most important day of my life, he won’t be there. Not to give me to Mikey or to dance with me.

It sucks.

It hurts.

“It’s not my father,” I snap, pushing him away and taking a step back to put even more space between us. “Not everything is about our wedding and my father spending the rest of his miserable life behind bars.”

I hated the words I spoke as they left my mouth. I hated the tone they carried and the sharpness of them, but more importantly I hated the look they caused in Mikey’s eyes.

“I’m not a mind reader, Princess. You’re going to need to elaborate and I’m not allowing you to brush me off so you better choose your words,” he grounds out, crossing his arms against his bare chest as he waits for me to explain my attitude and the tears we both weren’t sure how to handle.

“Two months ago my period was late, like two weeks late,” I start, assessing Mikey’s features, waiting for him to show some sign of a freak out but his face remains neutral. His eyes are blank as he gives me his undivided attention.

“I took a test, and it came back negative,” I caution, taking a step closer. The sigh of relief I expected never came. “I wound up missing my period that month altogether but the following month I got it and it was worse than ever before. The bleeding was so bad and the cramps felt as if my body was splitting in two. I was scared and didn’t know what to make of it. I started to think the test was wrong, maybe I took it too soon and I really was pregnant and the bleeding, the cramping—well, I thought I was having a miscarriage.”