His Tesoro (Empire of Royals, #1)

by Emilia Rossi

“Slow down!” I shouted. “Have you ever driven before?” “I drive my wheelchair all the time. There’s no one with as much motorized vehicle driving expertise as me!” She took a sharp turn towards the water, and I threw my arm across her body as visions of us ending up in the ocean flashed before my eyes. “Relax, husband. I’ve got this.” My heart did not stop pounding. We rounded another bend and our villa came into view. It was a large wooden house with a thatched roof and wrap-around porch. “It’s over the water! Oh my God!” Sofiya shrieked. “I’m definitely going to get to touch the ocean.” She let out a gasp and then faced me. I made a terrified noise in the back of my throat and grabbed the steering wheel. She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Do they have snorkeling here? That’s another thing on my list.” “Slow down,” I growled. She released a put-out huff and then came to a jerking stop beside the other golf cart. “So, snorkeling?” Her eyes were sparkling, and I kissed her nose. “Yes, baby, they have snorkeling here.” She leaned into me, and then her smiling expression morphed into something sad as tears filled her eyes. “Tesoro mio, what is wrong?” I looked around, ready to burn the entire villa to the ground if something about it was upsetting her. “I just can’t believe we’re actually here. I can’t believe this is my life.” She wiped a tear. “Thank you for giving it to me.” I pressed my forehead to hers. “Don’t thank me. Ever. You deserve everything.” “And that’s what you’...

“We could just order in.” If it were any other night, if I didn’t have something planned, I would have stripped off her clothes and taken her here in a heartbeat. I clenched my jaw and forced myself off of her. “No. Dinner.” She pouted. “Fine, then, if you’re going to be all romantic.”

“You’re sunburned.” “Just a tiny bit.” “I don’t like it.” She joined her fingers with mine, a smile playing on her lips. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you can shoot the sun in punishment.” Maybe not, although it deserved it after hurting my tesoro. But until I could punish the sun, I would just have to be more diligent about having her wear sunscreen and a hat.

My hand twitched towards my gun, but Sofiya wouldn’t like it if I shot them. I settled for turning my furious, burning gaze at them.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me to marry you?” “We’re already married.” “Well, yeah, but you know, it’s tradition to ask.” I fixed her with a stern expression. “You will marry me, tesoro.” She snorted. “Close enough.” She grasped both sides of my face and pulled me in for a kiss. When we pulled apart, her eyes were sparkling. “I can’t believe I’m engaged. I hope my husband doesn’t find out.” I growled and gripped her chin. “Are you trying to rile me up?” “Always.”

“Someone will see us.” “I forbid it.”

“Fuck, be more careful,” he said as he gathered me close to his chest. “I don’t need to be careful when you’re here to catch me.” His expression softened, and I pressed my smile to his lips. “You think you have me wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?” “I only think it because it’s true.”

“Do you think we’re having a boy or a girl?” We had an ultrasound scheduled in a few days to find out the sex. Matteo’s hand joined mine, caressing my stomach. “A boy.” I scowled. “Why, because the big bad Don needs a male heir?” He scoffed and pulled me into his arms, my back pressed tight against his chest as his legs treaded water to keep us afloat. “My naughty girl is feeling very sassy.” He nipped at my ear. “No, because if we have a girl, she’ll be just as pretty as you, and then I’ll have to gouge out all the eyes in New York City… the entire state.”

I bolted upright in bed just as Sofiya walked back into the bedroom. “Don’t worry, husband, I survived the toilet.”

I had wanted her to open all her presents last night. Actually, I’d been pestering her to open presents since December first, but she said that wasn’t how it was done. As if I cared. I shouldn’t have to wait for a certain day to spoil my wife. She fixed me with a stern look and Noodle did the same as he swung his head toward me. I sighed, unable to argue with them, and walked over to grab my present. I tore the wrapping and found a bright red sweater with a deformed something on the front. I furrowed my brow trying to figure out what the fuck I was holding. “Do you like it? Sienna and I have been learning how to crochet and I made that for you.” Years of training as Don allowed me to keep my face blank. Sofiya looked so happy I didn’t have the heart to tell her the sweater was the most hideous thing I’d ever seen.

Sofiya had never had a real Christmas and said she wanted to create new traditions for our new family. It wasn’t like I could refuse her anything, so we’d gone all out—a real tree, a shit-ton of presents, and Christmas music playing through the speakers.

the tall, magnificent tree that rivaled the one at Rockefeller Center with ugly homemade decorations Sofiya had insisted we all make over the past weeks. The endless hot glue and glitter had all been worth it when I heard she’d turned Angelo’s poker night into a Christmas crafting evening. It was impossible to say no to my wife. They’d never stood a chance.

At least craft night had prevented her from adding more to her considerable poker debt. I kept forgetting to ask Angelo how much Sofiya owed. She still didn’t realize the chips represented actual money, and I didn’t want to ask Angelo in front of her and upset her. I would give everything I owned to make her happy, and if poker night was it, I would pay whatever it took.

Angelo rubbed his hands together as he peered at the cinnamon rolls in the oven. He’d put on at least ten pounds since I married Sofiya. Not that I had a leg to stand on—I’d been forced to add an extra workout to my week with all the sweets my wife made. “What are you wearing?” Romeo asked me, a glint of laughter in his eyes. “A beautiful sweater made by my wife,” I said before he could say another word. No one would insult my Sofiya. “Oh, don’t be jealous, Romeo,” Sofiya said. “Miliy, can you get those three packages from the top of the pile?” I did what she asked, grinning as I handed Romeo and Angelo packages that felt suspiciously like sweaters. The third package had a tag on it that said “To Noodle, from Mama.” Fuck, she was cute.

“What the fuck?” I stared at the sweater Sofiya had crocheted for the dog. “What’s wrong?” Sofiya asked. I took the dog sweater and headed into the kitchen. “Why does the dog’s sweater look absolutely perfect?” It was dark green with white trim and even rows of pom-poms sewed onto it. Sofiya gave me a mischievous smile. “I made his last, so I’d had a lot of practice. But… are you saying you think your sweater is bad?”

I pulled the cinnamon rolls out of the oven and then turned around to see Romeo, Angelo, and Noodle all standing in a row, wearing their Christmas sweaters. Sienna was off to the side, covering her mouth and looking suspiciously like she was holding in laughter. Sofiya clapped. “I need a picture of all my boys together.” “They’re not all your boys,” I growled. “We’re men, not boys,” Romeo added. He crossed his arms, which only highlighted the mess of green tinsel on his sweater.

We all moved in front of the Christmas tree and Sofiya took photos of “her boys.” Then she and Sienna instructed us into all sorts of formations and combinations. I didn’t mind, as long as I got to be next to my wife. I found I minded nothing as long as she was by my side.

“In that case, I’ll donate an apartment building to the charity.” I raised my eyebrows. “What apartment building?” Matteo shrugged. “There are plenty in the city. Take your pick.”

“Didn’t know you were such a sore loser, Angelo.” He kissed my cheek. “Now you have another ten grand to add to your charity.” “Yes, thank you all for your donations,” I said.