Sweet Temptation by Cora Reilly

“Your dad would love a painting of the ocean for Christmas. Why don’t you
give it to him?”
Daniele dipped the brush into the blue paint and continued drawing jerky
lines. “Okay,” was his soft reply.
“Nothing would make your dad happier than spending time with you and
hearing your voice again.”
Kissing Daniele’s temple, I rose to my feet and returned to my canvas.
We hosted Christmas Eve dinner for the family. Luckily, Sybil cooked most of
the feast. Even Ilaria and her husband came over with their kids. Mia was still
heavily pregnant. I had a feeling she’d get a Christmas baby, and I could tell that
she desperately wanted to give birth. Mia’s and Ilaria’s kids were more
boisterous than Daniele, but they got along well, despite Daniele’s selective
muteness. When we settled at the table for dinner, one topic was definitely offlimits:
Gaia. I didn’t mind. Too much of her presence still lingered within these
walls.
Mansueto watched Cassio and me like a hawk. He was obviously protective
of his son. “When are you going to bless us with another grandchild?”
I choked on a piece of roasted asparagus.
Daniele looked between his dad and me. I wasn’t sure if he understood. At
least, Simona was busy squishing baby carrots in her hands.
“I’m blessing you with a grandchild any day now,” Mia said pointedly,
patting her round belly.
Mansueto waved her off. “And I’m delighted about your son, but what about
you, Cassio?”
Cassio set down his fork and knife slowly. A vein throbbed in his throat. I
touched his leg under the table. I didn’t want a fight at Christmas dinner. “I have
two small children. That’s enough.”
“You should keep your young wife in mind.”
This wasn’t about me. Maybe Mansueto worried that Andrea was indeed the
father, not Cassio. Continuing the bloodline was something deeply ingrained in
every mafia man, so it was astonishing that Cassio hadn’t done a paternity test
the moment he’d found Gaia dead.
“I’m happy with what we have,” I said quickly.
Cassio touched my hand, gratefulness flashing in his eyes.
“Now, but what about in a few years?”
“Father,” Cassio said sharply. “That’s none of your business.”
Mia turned to me. “I hear you paint?”
I could have hugged her and gladly took her up on the topic change, even if