Sweet Temptation by Cora Reilly

“They also cry, vomit, and poop, and once they don’t do that anymore, they
throw the worst tantrums. You really want that?”
I grinned. “Yes.”
Cassio shook his head as if I was unreasonable, but from the gentle look in
his eyes, I knew I had him. “So?”
“If you want another baby, you’ll get it.”
“But what about you? I don’t want you to give me a baby only to do me a
favor.”
Cassio bent over the table. “Trust me, giving you a baby isn’t a chore for
me.” I slapped his forearm lightly, and he continued in an even lower voice. “I’d
love to have a baby with you.”
“We can start today,” I whispered and ran my high heel up his trouser leg,
smiling suggestively. In his form-fitting suit, he looked irresistible.
One corner of his mouth rose. “Are you sure you want to miss the Canard à
l’orange and the Crepe Suzette?” Hearing Cassio speak French, even if it was
only to praise a duck in orange sauce and pancakes was almost too much for
what little control I had left.
I pressed my heel against his crotch, causing him to form a low hiss in his
throat. “Okay, food first, sex later.”
He shook his head but couldn’t say anything because the waiter was heading
our way with our main course.
We spent Christmas at our beach house like we’d done the two previous years.
Despite the cold, we loved to take strolls along the beach. For Cassio, it was a
way to get away from the weight of his responsibilities for a couple of days.
When he was home, someone always wanted something from him. That was the
problem if you were Underboss. Dad had always delegated most of the work.
Cassio preferred to have control.
Simona and Daniele decorated the Christmas tree while I prepared Christmas
dinner for the family. Loulou hovered beside me, hoping a slice of bacon would
drop to the floor. It had become tradition that Cassio’s sisters and their families,
as well as his parents, came over to us to celebrate. My parents didn’t want to
drive long distances in winter, so we always visited them in Baltimore after
Christmas.
I had a special Christmas present for Cassio that I would give him once we
were alone. A gift box filled with a cute onesie with the words “Hello, Dad,”
earplugs, Advil, and rug cleaner as a joke for that one time Simona ripped away
her diaper and pooed on our living room rug after eating red beet. It was a
memorable moment that the rug didn’t survive. Apparently beet was harder to