"A rumor has been going around," he said.

"Oh?"

"Yes, that you adopted a little boy."

Dante straightened in his chair as every gaze landed on him. He had forewarned Cat their son might be brought up at the meeting, but she didn't like the way the word adopted was all but spit from the man's lips. As if Michel was worth less than any other child because of the way he became Dante's son.

"What about it?" Dante asked.

"It's true?"

"Adoption isn't looked highly upon," Terrance put in, shaking his head. "And not just by Cosa Nostra this time, Dante."

"He's my son," Cat said, wanting to take the attention off her husband for the moment. "And not in the adopted way, but biologically, he's mine. My reasons for keeping him from my husband's attention were for the little boy's safety from his biological father."

"Where is his father?" Maximo asked.

"Dante is his father," Lucian said instantly.

"His real father, then."

"Dead," Dante murmured. "And my son won't miss a thing with the man in the ground where he belongs. Technically, my adoption of him can be considered safe, and since he has no family but my wife, there would be no future issue with anyone else. Can we move on? Michel's status as my son is solid-I won't argue about it."

"You know," Cat said quietly, bringing everyone back to her as she began buffing her nails again. "Arguing over whether or not I have the balls to sit at this table with the rest of you is pointless. I have little to prove to any of you, nor do I have to. So, you can choose to keep acting like you're afraid that a pair of tits and a set of ovaries might have something important to say, or we can sit down like the business people we are and get to work. Your choice, boys."

Dante leaned back in his chair, unfazed at Cat's side. "I think she said that quite well, don't you?"

The men started talking.

Chapter Twenty.

A two-year-old Johnathan ran past his uncle's legs, his forehead missing the corner of the kitchen counter by only millimeters. Dante tried hard not to laugh when the kid lost his footing at the surprise turn and toppled head over heels to the floor. It wasn't a blink before Johnathan was back up on his feet, brushing off the fall like it never even happened, and running right back out of the kitchen.

Dante shook his head, wondering where Johnathan got his constant energy. Lucian was always so laidback. Well, unless someone pissed him off, but that wasn't even remotely the same as Johnathan's hyperactivity. Johnathan was like a toddler on fucking speed.

There was something about his oldest nephew that always made Dante happy, no matter what his day was going like. Johnathan seemed to have that effect on everyone. The kid was always trying to pull some nonsense that had hilarity ensuing. He certainly gave Lucian and Jordyn a run for their money.

Dante turned to the three women sitting around his new kitchen table playing a game of cards. The brothers, their wives, and the kids still went to Antony's and Cecelia's for Sunday dinner, but Saturdays were now reserved for their families to get together and do whatever. This Saturday was Dante and Catrina's, which usually meant barbeque, beer, and no business for the brothers.

Catrina and Dante had settled in their new home a half of a year earlier. Sometimes he missed his condo, but mostly, he loved his home. Because he made it with his wife and son.

"Jesus, he's got energy to burn," Dante said, chuckling.

Jordyn smiled from her spot at the table. "Tell me about it. He might as well get it out of his system while we're at your house. He's less likely to break something at home that way."

"Thanks for that," Catrina replied, popping her middle finger up at the same time.

"Hey, just saying it like I see it."

"Clearly you've been spending too much time near Giovanni," Kim said, glancing at the cards face up around the table and then at her own hand. She hummed indecisively before folding her hand. "You should stop that before you catch his nonsense like a bad habit you can't break."

"Are you fucking counting cards again?" Jordyn asked, eyes narrowing. "You're such a cheater!"

"I am not!"

"That's a habit right there," Catrina put in, jerking her thumb in Kim's direction. "She does it every time, and you keep expecting her to stop. She's never going to stop. Addiction is a disease, don't you know."

"I was not counting!" Kim half-yelled, laughing.

"Liar," Jordyn muttered. "Don't know why I play poker with you. Even your own husband refuses to play with you."

"That's not why he won't play. Gio just doesn't like to be beat at his own games."

Dante hid his grin from the women, knowing they'd turn on him. Leaning on the counter, Dante nodded at Jordyn and asked, "How're you going to keep up with Johnathan when the next one gets here?"

Jordyn shrugged, her hand falling to the roundness of her midsection. "Coffee. Lots of coffee."

"And a benny or two," Kim joked.

Jordyn snorted under her breath. "Hey, I'm not ruling that out, yet."

Jordyn was just over eight months along in her pregnancy. It wouldn't be long before the first Marcello principessa for the next generation was going to be making her appearance. There was a whole new level of excitement for the family with this baby.

Good God. A daughter. Dante hoped his brother was ready for that world of trouble right there.

Catrina caught Dante's eye across the room, her eyebrow cocking. "What are you doing in here, anyway?"

"Forgot my sauce."

"Well, get it and get out. We were having a nice non-male involved conversation before you came in."

Dante could see the humor glittering in his wife's gaze, but he still acted offended. "This is my house!"

"My kitchen," Catrina retorted. "The only things you own in this room is your shelf in the fridge, your chair at the table, and that ugly coffee cup in the cupboard. Now get out."

Damn it. It was like growing up in his parents' home all over again.

"Besides, Dante, are you interested in having a discussion on the postpartum side of pregnancy?"

Dante cringed. Nope, he most certainly was not interested.

"Later, ladies."

Laughter followed him as he grabbed the container he needed from the fridge and made a hasty exit. There were some conversations men did not need to have or be a part of. That was one of them.

Dante was not getting caught up in that mess.

Dante fell into the lawn chair, taking the beer he was offered by Lucian and handing over the container of sauce as he sat. As his brother made the move to go towards the house, Dante muttered, "I wouldn't do that, man."

Lucian turned, brow lifting. "Why?"

"They're a particular brand of their special kind of nasty today."

"But ... my whiskey is in your freezer. I can't make whiskey chicken with no whiskey, Dante."

"Not my kitchen," Dante replied, repeating his wife's words. "You should have put it on my shelf in the fridge. And guessing from Catrina's spiel this morning before you guys got here, she's this close to labeling the damn shelf. So hey, pretty soon you won't even have to guess which one is mine."

Gio chuckled at Dante's left. "She's just like Mom."

Dante scowled. "Don't say that shit. It really screws with my head. There's nothing sexy about that thought."

"What, like you married your moth-"

"I said don't fucking say it!"

Lucian didn't even try to hide his amusement. "They get worse and worse every time they all get together in the same room. I swear to fuc-" His eyes cut to his son running across the lawn with a miniature wooden baseball bat in hand. "-fudging God they feed off one another."

"Like Johnathan doesn't know the word fuck," Gio said, scoffing.

Dante popped the top off his beer, tossed the cap into a steel can, and took a long swig. "Truth."

"Because you taught it to him, Gio," Lucian grumbled. "Jordyn still doesn't believe me when I tell her that, by the way."

"Hey, at least I had the insight to teach him how to use it properly. Give me credit where it's due."

"That's not the point, Gio. Besides, you ought to curb your own mouth, considering ..." Lucian trailed off, shooting a pointed glance at the baby boy snuggled into his youngest brother's chest.

Gio shrugged, his hand rhythmically patting Andino's bottom to keep him asleep. "I've still got time before I need to worry. Should have known your kid was going to pick up some bad habits off me eventually, man."

Dante shook his head, still disbelieving that Giovanni was a father to a nine-week-old son. It wasn't that Gio was a bad father, because he wasn't. He was great, actually, and that was a little surprising, too. Maybe it shouldn't have been, but shit, it was Gio.

Gio was the biggest mess of the three brothers growing up. There was no self-control or restraint. His attitude towards life in general was frightening at times. If someone would have told Dante his younger brother would grow the fuck up, settle the hell down, and be a dad-a great one who was totally enamoured and in love with his son-he might not have believed it back then.

A father. Gio was a father. A dad.

Kind of crazy.

"Baseball!" Johnathan shouted repeatedly the closer he came to Lucian. "I wants baseball, Papa!"

"You want to play baseball," Lucian corrected.

Johnathan's foot stomped into the ground. "I says that!"

Lucian sighed. "You need the ball, too. Go find it and we'll play."

Johnathan dropped the bat to the ground and turned on his heel at the same time, running back towards the garage where all the outside toys were kept. Once the kid was out of sight, Dante turned back to his younger brother.

"When's your next one coming?" Dante jokingly asked Gio.

Gio smirked. "It's not. I got clipped at Andino's two week checkup. One and done, Dante."

"Seriously?" Lucian asked.

"Yeah. Did it right in the doctor's office. If you don't watch, it's not that bad."

"No, I mean, you're done having kids altogether?"

"I just said that, Lucian. Clean out your fucking ears."

Dante was confused as hell. "But you're a great dad."

Gio waved the comment off. "So I'll be great to only Andino. One felt right. Kim and I are fine with stopping at him."

Quiet childish murmurings and giggles coming from the baby monitor beside Dante stopped him from questioning Gio further. Knowing Catrina was thoroughly enjoying herself inside with the other girls, Dante didn't want to interrupt his wife to go fetch Michel from his nap. Excusing himself, he slipped back into the house and trekked upstairs to find his nearly two-year-old adopted son bouncing up and down in his crib.

He probably should have been out of the damn thing by now and into a toddler bed, but Michel was too curious for his own good and got into everything.

"What are you doing, piccolo?" Dante asked, picking the brown-eyed boy up.

"Out, Papa."

"Come see Daddy, Michel."

The big grin his son sported at merely being in the presence of his father warmed Dante instantly. There were so many things in life Dante thought he would have to live without-the child in his arms being one; the woman downstairs with his last name who he loved entirely being two.

After all, if he couldn't offer a woman the normal things that came along with love and marriage, what did he really have to give?

Not a lot.

Dante couldn't have been more wrong.

It had always been a wonder of Dante's how his father Antony never treated Lucian any differently from his other sons. It wasn't that he thought his father loved Lucian in a lesser way, but maybe that it couldn't possibly be the same as the children he helped create.

Again, Dante was crazy wrong.

For Catrina and Michel, Dante lived. No one else gave him those feelings or that desire. No one in the world could bring forth the almost possessive need to protect, cherish, and love like his wife and son.

And Michel ... God, Michel.

All brown eyes, blond hair, and little fingers waving.