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Giggling, Emilio reached out his wet fist and landed it on Kaz’s face.
And just like that, all traces of anger disappeared from Kaz’s expression, replaced by a sense of playful amusement.
I chuckled. “See? Even Emilio thinks you should stop cursing.”
“Alright. Alright.” Kazimir surrendered. “Now that our little lion has splendidly defended his mother, I will refrain.”
“Cool.” I tapped my foot. “Now let’s put some shorts on him, before I leave all of you in here and go get drunk on Bourbon street.”
Kaz grumbled, “Sharks.”
I rolled my eyes and watched Kazimir effortlessly juggle putting a new diaper on Emilio along with shorts as our little guy kicked and twisted around sucking on his fist.
I should have headed off, but I couldn’t help but smile.
The Lion and the Shark.
A pang of something deeper fluttered in my chest.
Kaz was on Interpol’s list of dangerous people as well as the FBI’s Most Wanted. The world knew him as a treacherous, powerful man—the sort of powerful man that could still travel anywhere he desired regardless of what agencies wanted to lock him up because governments tended to leave people alone when they had the codes to Russian nukes and were more than willing to use them.
Regardless. . .now. . .here he was, the doting father with a tenderness I hadn’t imagined possible when we first met.
He gazed over his shoulder. “Why are you smiling like that, mysh?”
“We’ve come a long way from the shadows, haven’t we?”
His gaze softened and this rare sight of vulnerability flickered through those eyes. “We have.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“We’re going to have a good day today.”
“We are, but then every moment of peace is a treasure.” He winked and returned to dressing Emilio.
Feeling happier than ever, I hurried down the hallway, got to the stroller, and rummaged through Emilio’s bag.
It appeared to be filled with essentials—bottles full of breast milk in a refrigerated bag, snacks for Paolo, a few toys, extra outfits, diapers, baby wipes, and a portable changing pad.
Harlem barked several times.
I looked up and spotted Paolo practicing a roll-flip on the couch.
“No. No.” I stuffed more diapers into Emilio’s bag. “Remember. I said no playing on the furniture.”
“Mysh?” Frowning, Paolo jumped off the couch. “So fun.”
“Yes. I’m sure it’s fun, but that’s not our couch.”
“No, mysh.” Paolo pointed. “My couch.”
“Nope. That’s not your couch.”
Shock hit him. “No?”
“Nope.”
