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A smile crept over my face.
It had been bitterly cold in Moscow, far too chilly to even think of taking Emilio out for a stroll.
But here, under the gentler sun, Kaz was finally getting his moment. It was almost comical, seeing a man—who had his hands in so many corners of the world—be so eager for something as simple as a walk with his son.
My babies.
It was funny, in a way, how life had a knack for revealing what truly mattered. In this world, Kaz’s every decision could move mountains, but now one of his greatest treasures was the quiet moments spent with Emilio.
Those moments, devoid of the weight of his power, wealth, and empire, where he could just be a dad.
Just then, Lemon appeared from around the corner, her timing impeccable as always. Her face held the usual stoic expression, but her eyes hinted at something more pressing waiting beneath the surface.
As my temporary number two, her presence was both a comfort and a signal that mafia shit was never too far away.
If she does a good job here, then she really will replace Giorgio.
At the same moment, Max’s phone rang, slicing through the ambient noise.
I watched him pull it out, glance at the screen, and promptly ignore it.
The same person is calling him again.
His face was a mask of indifference, but the slight tightening of his jaw didn’t escape me.
I eyed him. “Who’s that?”
“No one.”
“So then give me your phone so I can see.”
“Who are you? My chick now.” He quickly pocketed his phone. “Stop being nosy.”
“I’m trying to have your back.”
“What happened with Delphine last night?”
Tension gathered in my shoulders. “Let’s just have fun today, and I can talk more about it later.”
Max nodded. “And because I love you, I’m going to respect that. How I wish you would respect my little private shit over here.”
“Thought it was no one calling you.”
“It is no one. Anyway. . .let me help Paolo out up there. Harlem is dragging him around.” Max jogged five feet forward and strolled next to them.
You’re definitely hiding something.
Lemon got to my side.
I slowed my pace and looked at her. “Did you find out who was calling Max?”
Her voice remained neutral. “Ufuoma.”
I pressed on, needing to piece together the fragments of information that seemed to be slipping through my fingers. “And what did Louis say about Italy?”
“Louis said it is not his story to tell.”
“Fucking Louis.”
