Page 167 of The Don’s Omega

I widen my eyes. “She asked you to do that before?”

“She asks me every year, and every year I make Carlo do it.” He smirks. “He makes a very convincing rabbit.”

I laugh and the baby fusses as if about to wake, making me freeze. We both look down at the snoozing baby and I’m relieved when he stays asleep. “That was close,” I whisper.

“Too close.” He slowly moves to sit beside me against the headboard. He pulls the blankets up carefully and leans his muscular shoulder into mine. “I do like your idea about a little trip with just us and Adriano Jr.”

“Me too.”

“We could go to my family villa in Tuscany.”

“I didn’t know you had a villa in Tuscany.” I lift my brows.

“Oh, yes, we have two, but one we rent out to tourists.” He rubs his chin. “The one we don’t rent out would be perfect. Let’s decide on some dates and I’ll call the caretaker to make sure it’s clean and ready for us.”

“The only thing is, if it’s just the three of us, we won’t have anyone to help us with the baby. It’ll be all on us.”

He smirks. “That’s okay. Here, we can’t let Adriano cry himself to sleep because he’ll wake up the whole family. But in Tuscany, the villa is high on a hill above the ocean. There is nothing but land around the place. Adriano could cry all night, and no one would care. There are no neighbors for miles.”

I wince. “I don’t think I could stand to hear him cry for too long.”

He narrows his eyes. “But that’s how you get a baby to sleep through the night.”

“Babies don’t usually sleep through the night until maybe three months?” I bite my lip, holding his gaze. “And even then, we’re only talking about six-hour stretches.”

“Hmmm, earplugs?”

“Marcello, I can’t just ignore my crying baby.”

He purses his lips, deep in thought. Then he brightens. “The villa has a guest house. We could bring Fabio as our manny. We’d all have plenty of privacy because the guest house is completely separate. Fabio would have an all-expenses-paid vacation to Tuscany, and all he’d have to do is watch the baby a couple of nights a week while we went out on the town.”

I hesitate. “He might be willing. He’s feeling strong now and I know he’s always wanted to go to Italy.”

“Then it’s settled.”

I laugh. “Well, I do still have to ask Fabio if he’d be willing. He does have some say in this.”

He frowns. “Okay. I guess. Ask him tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll say yes. Fabio is a good kid and if he seems like he’s going to say no, just remind him of all you’ve done for him.”

I recoil. “Marcello, I would never do that.”

“But he needs to say yes.”

I roll my eyes. “He’ll probably say yes out of the goodness of his heart. Jesus, I can’t emotionally blackmail my own brother. What is wrong with you?”

He laughs, appearing unfazed by my criticism. “You’re not a very good negotiator, Elio.”

I lean toward him. “I don’t have to negotiate with my brother. I can just ask him. Like a normal person.”

He shrugs. “Okay. If that’s how you want to play it.”

I’m suspicious of how easily he capitulated. “And you can’t emotionally blackmail him either.”

He wrinkles his brow. “No? Why not? I’m not his brother.”

“Oh, my god, Marcello.” I laugh because I don’t know what else to do. “You’re not a very nice person, are you?”

“Nice?” He says the word with disdain. “Of course I’m not nice. I’m Marcello Foschini. If I were nice, I would be dead by now.” He mutters some other things in Italian, which, thankfully, I don’t understand.