Say I Do (Vitale Brothers, #3)

by Brea Alepoú

salvia

Typo. Saliva*

I was pretty sure if Benito asked me for my social security number, I’d happily hand it over.

“Meglio tenerlo stretto o lo porto via.” “Non c’è posto al mondo in cui tu possa nasconderti se tocchi ciò che è mio,”

Shit, fuck, damn. I think I like Benito Vitale.

“I’m getting married in a few days. You almost ruined my face,” I snapped at the man. My mother-in-law would have a cow. She wanted perfection at the wedding, and now this dipshit had to go and fuck up my face.

“He will have a coffee and toast,” Tex said. “Tea if you have it,” I corrected. I was drunk, but that didn’t mean I’d lower my standards and drink shit water.

Shit water? Is he aware that tea is basically dirt water?

The man was a walking, talking trainwreck, and I didn’t want anyone else.

“Mostricio, non nascondetevi da me. Non eri quello che cercavo, ma sei tutto ciò di cui ho bisogno.”

“Your eyes are so beautiful,” he mumbled. “I can’t wait to stare into them for the rest of our lives.”

I flopped onto the bed. After a shower, a quick bite to eat, and another bottle feeding, I was exhausted. Even working out or disposing of a body didn’t require this much energy. How did people do it with more than one child?