“I’m not freaked out,” I lie, plastering a smile on my face.

  “Good,” the woman at his side says. “I’m Grandma, but you can call me Gram or Nonna. Those are your only two options. No ma’am or Mrs. Gallo. When you’re at my house, eating my food, and on the arm of my grandson, you’re one of us.”

  “Your favorite grandson,” Rocco adds, winking at the small woman who’s solely responsible for all the people inside this house.

  “Always.” The woman beams, but I have a feeling she feeds the same line to every grandkid. “I better go check the sauce. It needs my final tweaks. Have a glass of wine and settle in, sweetie. This is a marathon, not a sprint.”

  I don’t know what that means, but I could take a little less running in my life. I’m mentally and physically exhausted. But after the last few days, I don’t feel so weighed down by the things I’ve been running from.

  “Rebel,” Izzy, Rocco’s mom, calls out, walking toward us with her arms open. “I’m so happy you came.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her as I hug her back, feeling all kinds of things from the outpouring of love and acceptance.

  “Rocco,” she says, still holding on to me. “Your father wants to talk to you in your grandfather’s study.”

  “Reb, are you—”

  “She’ll be fine,” Izzy tells him. “Let us ladies have some time together. I’ll introduce her to everyone. You know how your father doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Tommy’s in there too.”

  “Oh boy,” Rocco mutters.

  I pull away from Izzy’s embrace, seeing Rocco hasn’t moved an inch. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

  He studies me for a second before he peels away, walking toward the other room.

  “He’s a protective thing, isn’t he?” Izzy whispers, taking my arm and guiding me away before I have a chance to answer. “Remember my brothers I told you about?”

  “Yeah.” I smile, looking through the crowd, trying to figure out which males could be her siblings. It’s quick and easy to pick them out, with the same intense eyes and no-nonsense air about them.

  “My brother Thomas is with James right now. You’ll meet him later,” she says as we stop at the entrance to the living room. She points to a wide-shouldered man, sitting with a blond woman between his legs. “That’s Joe. He looks cranky as fuck, but trust me, he’s a kitten.”

  My eyebrows rise. “Doesn’t look like it,” I whisper, but I watch the way he runs his fingers down his wife’s arm like the attention he pays her is natural and not forced.

  “Oh, he has a side to him. But trust me, he loves deep and would jump in front of a bullet for anyone in this family.”

  Well, okay. I’ve never been able to say the same about anyone. I’m pretty fucking sure my aunt would’ve pushed me in front of that bullet in order to save herself. I can’t imagine what it feels like to be so important someone else would give their life for yours.

  I feel that way about Adaline. I’d walk through fire to save her life. I’d do anything, suffer any fate, as long as she’d have a happy life. I want to give her everything I never had but always wanted.

  But these people…they have it. They probably don’t know how lucky they are either.

  “Joe is our best artist at Inked, but like me, he’s about ready to retire and hand over the entire operation to the kids.” She tightens her arm as she pulls me closer. “That’s his wife, Suzy, between his legs. Girl couldn’t even say the word ‘shit’ when they met, but now…” Izzy laughs, shaking her head. “Let’s just say loving a man like my brother has a way of changing a woman.”

  I can see that about him. Joe is spectacularly handsome. Rugged and chiseled jaw, with the perfect smattering of salt-n-pepper hair, blue eyes, and covered in tattoos. Even at his age, he could probably talk just about any woman into bending over and touching her toes for a taste.

  “Joe and Suzy have three girls—Gigi, Luna, and Rosie—who are outside, no doubt gossiping out of earshot. You’ll meet them and Rocco’s other cousins in a bit.”

  Izzy points to another man stretched out on the floor, back against a chair, woman between his legs too. I sense a theme, and it isn’t the women waiting on the men. “That’s Mike. He used to be a big shot fighter, then he found Mia, who’s a doctor. She didn’t have the stomach for the blood, so he gave it up right after he won his first championship.”

  “No shit,” I whisper.

  “No shit,” she repeats. “They have a son named Stone, a daughter named Lily, and her husband’s Jett.”

  Mike is bigger than Joe but just as impressive. But the things that keep drawing my eye aren’t their handsome faces, but the way they cling to their women as if they worship them and never want to be without their hands on them.

  “That’s Anthony and Max,” Izzy says, ticking her head toward the other side of the room to a couple who are also snuggled up, staring at a phone and laughing about something. “They’re Tamara and Asher’s parents. Anthony also works at Inked, but he’s about to hang up his tattoo gun to finally enjoy being a grandfather.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “Yeah. Must be nice to have children who have given you babies,” she says with a salty tone, and I know she’s talking about her three boys and their unsettled lifestyle. “I’m the only one who isn’t a grandmother here.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her, feeling a bit awkward but also sorry for her too. The woman clearly loves family. Cherishes it even, but her boys haven’t delivered on the thing she seems to want the most. “Maybe soon.”

  She turns her face toward me and smiles. “I’m counting on it.”

  My belly flutters again, and I don’t think she’s talking in generalizations, but looking at me as the possible pot of gold at the end of the grandchild rainbow.

  A beautiful redhead walks through the crowd, making her way toward us. Her smile is electrifying and sweet, easily sucking someone in. “Hi, Rebel. I’m Angel,” she says, extending her hand to me.

  As soon as I take it, she pulls me in, hugging me. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  Finally? I’ve been here only a few days, and word has spread far and wide enough for people to know about me.

  “Thanks,” I say, but it comes out more like a question.

  “Angel and I talk daily. Our husbands, my brother Thomas and my husband James, own a security company together. She keeps me clued in on the shit the guys would rather we be clued out about.”

  Angel laughs as she releases me. “I always got your back, sis. Gotta keep those men on their toes.”

  “James sure as fuck keeps me on mine,” Izzy replies with a hint of laughter.

  “You like it, you dirty bitch. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

  “Hey,” Izzy says, tilting her head. “Don’t act all prim and proper. I seem to remember hearing about a time you slapped my brother and—”

  Angel’s eyes flash, and her face reddens. “Do you want to help in the kitchen, Rebel?”

  “She’s a guest,” Izzy reminds her sister-in-law. “Are you changing the subject, Angel baby?”

  “We all have our kinks, Iz.” Angel smirks, crossing her arms in front of her chest and staring back at Izzy. “I mean, I’ve never kneeled at Thomas’s feet before.”

  Izzy throws her head back and laughs. “Sweetie, don’t pretend you haven’t been on your knees before. We may have a different style, but the ending is always the same.”

  My mouth’s hanging open at the way they’re talking to each other, but I guess this is how sisters talk when there’s no filter or secrets.

  “Izzy’s a sub,” Angel tells me.

  I blink, confused. “She’s a sandwich?” I ask, getting two weird looks in return.

  Izzy looks at Angel, and Angel stares at her, staying silent for a moment before they burst into laughter.

  “Funniest shit ever,” Izzy says, almost unable to get the words out because she’s laughing so hard, she can barely speak.

  “Sandwich,” Angel chuckles, touching my arm. “Oh, darling. You have so much to learn.”

  “So…not a sandwich. Got it.” I’m wondering what I’m missing, but I’m not about to ask.

  “Anyway…” Izzy guides me toward what I assume is the kitchen since Angel’s right behind us. “Come hang out with us for a little bit until Rocco’s done with his father. We could always use an extra hand since we’re feeding a small army.”

  “I can see that,” I tell her, still taking in the people she hasn’t pointed out to me.

  A hand comes out, grabbing me gently by the wrist and stopping us. “And who do we have here?” the man with the white beard asks, giving me a soft and warm smile.

  “Bear, this is Rocco’s girl, Rebel,” Izzy explains and points a finger at him. “And I expect you to behave around her.”

  He releases me and lifts his hands in the air, but there’s an unmistakable smirk on his face. “Hey, now. I always behave, sweetness.”

  Izzy drops her hip. “You never behave. You and Aunt Fran are the worst.”

  Bear swipes his hand in the air. “Ignore her,” he tells me, not looking at Izzy anymore. “So, you’re Rocco’s girl. It’s fucking fabulous to finally meet you.”

  “Um,” I mutter and bite the corner of my lip, thinking I’m missing a fucking lot. “I’m just an old friend. Not his girl.”

  Am I his girl? We have history, and the last couple of nights were off-the-charts hot just like it was ten years ago. It was like time didn’t exist or matter, and we picked up right where we left off.

  Bear runs his hand through his beard, studying me and making me feel naked. “Beautiful but clueless.”

  I blink and stiffen. “Excuse me?”

  “Heard your name come out of his mouth before, darlin’.”

  “Bear,” Izzy warns.

  “What, sweetness? Just stating the obvious. Rocco doesn’t bring ‘friends’ here for dinner. Hell, he’s never brought anyone here for family dinner. The girl can keep believing she’s a friend or start settling into the fact she’s taken and doesn’t know it.”

  “Izzy invited me,” I correct him. “I assure you we’re only friends.”

  He gives me a shit-eating grin. “Sure, beautiful. Whatever makes your path forward easier to travel.”

  “Ignore him,” Izzy says, pulling me away from the rough-looking man who only spoke sweet words, although ones that threw me totally off track. “He’s a bit off.”

  “Is he?”

  She nods, smiling.

  “That’s so sad,” I whisper.

  Angel smacks Izzy’s arm. “Bear isn’t off. Stop acting like he has dementia.”

  “I didn’t say he had dementia. I said he was off, as in a little crazy. You work with him every day. You know how he is.”

  “He’s sharp as can be, especially given his age. He just calls it like he sees it,” Angel says, and I suddenly wonder if I’ve stepped into something more than I imagined.

  “There she is,” Rocco’s grandmother says as soon as she sees us and before I have a chance to ask anything else about Bear’s comments. “You want to help, honey? I could use an extra pair of hands.”

  She’s so sweet, how can I possibly say no? “I’d love to help, ma’am—” She gives me a look, and I instantly realize my mistake. “Nonna.”

  Her face breaks out into a big smile. “Perfect, child. Now, go wash up. You’re going to be rolling a lot of balls.”

  “Gram,” Carmello says, walking into the kitchen behind me. “Can you please not call them balls?”

  She stares at him, lips flat, not amused. “If you can’t hang without thinking about what’s between your legs, then shoo, boy, shoo. Not everything is about your dick.”

  I rock back, shocked to hear her say dick so casually. I love this family. They are all kinds of crazy, but in that fun way that could suck you in, soaking deep into your soul.

  Carmello grumbles and comes to stand next to me at the sink. “Hey, Reb.” He leans against the counter, crossing his arms, facing the opposite direction. “You doin’ okay? Rocco being a grumpy asshole?”

  I scrub my hands together but give Carmello my eyes. “He’s been really great with Adaline, and we’re doing okay. Getting along just fine.”

  I’m being evasive, but this is Carmello, and the one thing I’ve learned about him is he can’t keep a secret, especially from his mother.

  “Good.” He nods, leaning a little closer. “He needs someone to unwind him. I think you’re just the person to do it too.”

  I lean his way, dropping my voice so only he can hear me over the chatter of the women in the background. “I’m not his saving grace, Carm. I’m just a girl, passing through.”

  “You’re not just a girl. You’re the girl.”

  I blink again, my hands still under the water, but I’m no longer scrubbing them. “I’m not the girl.” I pause, and he stares at me, raising an eyebrow. I gasp, covering my mouth. “I can’t be the girl, Carm. We barely know each other.”

  “So…” He lifts his hand to his face, running his fingers across his jaw. “You’re saying you don’t feel that way about him, then? Because if he’s off base, you better tell him now before you guys—” he leans close, dropping his voice to a whisper “—do it again and he catches more feelings.”

  “He doesn’t have feelings for me.”

  “Chick is fucking clueless,” he mutters into the air, glancing up at the ceiling.

  “I’m not clueless,” I argue as I switch off the faucet and wipe my hands dry, staring him down when he’s done talking to himself.

  “Y’are, sweetheart. My brother doesn’t open his house and life to just anyone.”

  I lean the side of my hip into the counter, the women in the room all talking and ignoring us…thankfully. “I’m sure your brother has had plenty of women over the last ten years.”

  He nods slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. “He’s had women, but not the way you think. Rocco’s had to overcome a lot of control issues. I don’t have a right to out him and his kink.”

  I draw in my eyebrows. “Kink?”

  He slides away, still smiling. “Talk to him yourself, Reb. You’re in for more than you think, and I’m pretty fucking sure you’re about to have your mind blown.” He presses his hand to his chest, dipping his chin. “I just want you to know what you’re in for if you decide he’s the guy for you, too.”

  He walks away slowly, leaving me standing at the counter, confused and filled with so many more questions than answers.

  15

  Rocco

  “You need to tell her,” Dad says as soon as Thomas leaves us alone in the study. He lifts his glass to his lips, staring at me over the rim. “About everything.”

  “I will.” I rub my hands down and up my jeans, trying to stop my legs from shaking. “I just don’t want to fuck this up.”

  “Want to know how to fuck it up for sure?”

  “How?” I groan, knowing what he’s going to say before he says it.

  “By hiding shit from her.”

  I sigh. “You understand the need. I understand the craving. But…” I lean back, kicking out my leg. “What if she doesn’t? Then what the hell do I do?”

  My father takes a sip of his bourbon, studying me as he places the glass on his knee. “Kid, she’ll either accept you for what and who you are, or she won’t. The real question is, what are you going to do if she doesn’t? Can you give it up? Can you change?”

  “Fuck,” I hiss, tipping my head back and closing my eyes for a few seconds. “Talking about this makes my skin crawl, but I gotta ask…” I bring my gaze back to him, needing to know the answer to questions I’ve never asked. “Was Mom into it when you met her?”

  Dad shakes his head. “No. She sure as hell wasn’t. We eased her into the lifestyle. When a man needs control, it’s hard to give it up. But we didn’t go to clubs for a while. I took a step back from that part of my life, but I made damn sure she knew who was in control in the bedroom.”

  Somehow, I stop myself from gagging. Talking to my parents about sex hasn’t ever been comfortable. When I started to spiral down into a dark place after the accident, my dad stepped in, and I learned more about him than I ever wanted to know. We talked in generalizations, never bringing up his and my mother’s relationship. Now, I feel like I need to know more because Rebel is just as stubborn as my mother, and I find it hard to believe my father was ever able to make my mom kneel.

  “Enough.” I raise my hand, shifting in my seat, hunching over my legs with my elbows on my knees. “I’ll talk to Rebel.”

  “Sooner rather than later, son. You need to tell her about Beau, too. It’s important for a woman like her, someone who’s had their trust broken and been emotionally and physically hurt by a man who was supposed to love her, to be with a man who’s open, honest, protective, and caring. You need to put her needs above your own if you ever want a future with her.”

  “Am I crazy?” I ask.

  “For what?”

  “I can’t describe how I feel around her. There’s this inexplicable pull when she’s around me. I felt it ten years ago, and it’s stronger now.”

  “Rocco, I knew the moment I laid eyes on your mother. Knew it deep down in my soul. You feel how you feel, and there’s no rhyme or reason to any of it. I just want you to go after whatever makes you happy.”

  “I haven’t felt as much peace as I have in the last few days for over ten years, Dad. That means something.”

  He stands, placing his glass on the coffee table. “Talk to her. Do it today. Don’t leave things unsaid. You’ll either figure out how to move forward together or not, but either way, you’ll have your answer.” When he walks by me, he places his hand on my shoulder, giving me a tight squeeze. “Whatever you need, I’m always here. I’ll always listen and do my best to guide you, son.”

  I touch his hand, squeezing it back as I glance up at him. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Love you,” he says softly.