Wrong (Spada Crime Family #2) by Katherine Lace

herself—about her own family—but I’m not going to press right now. “Too many. So when Dad died, I got to thinking a lot about family. My family. I’ve got a brother, a sister, but no wife, no kids. I’m not so close to my siblings. We kind of…grew apart. So who’s going to be there for me when my time comes? Who’s going to take care of me? Who’s going to carry on my name?” I shrug. “You know, you think about that kind of thing.”
    “Sure.” A frown develops between her eyebrows. I can tell she’s probably wondering what in the world all this has to do with her. Fact is, it has everything to do with her.
    So…it’s time to lower the boom. “That’s what I want from you.”
    I can tell it doesn’t soak in right away. Her frown deepens; her hand tightens on the handle of her coffee mug. “What?” she finally says.
    “That’s what I want from you.”
    “Mouse pancakes? Grilled cheese sandwiches with pictures on them?”
    That gets a chuckle out of me. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that she doesn’t get it right away. I suppose it’s a bit of a jump in logic. “No.” I reach out and touch her face gently, tracing my fingers down the curve of her cheek. She’s lovely. Beyond lovely. Good genes. “Family.”
    Shaking her head, she gives me that same I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about look. “I don’t understand.”
    I lean closer to her, right into her personal space. She holds her ground, though I can tell she’s on edge now. She doesn’t know what to expect. “I don’t want my name to die. I want kids, a family, a legacy. You’re going to give me that.”
    “Wait… What?”
    There we go. Now it’s soaking in. I nod. “I want a kid. Somebody to carry on my business, my name. Somebody to take care of me when I get old. And you…” Calmly I take another drink of my coffee. “You’re going to have my baby.”
    Her mouth gapes open, snaps shut, maybe three or four times before she squeaks out, “What? What the fuck, Nick? Are you fucking serious ?”
    She has no idea how dead fucking serious I am. “Yes. Serious as a myocardial infarction, as they say.” I shrug. “I mean, we can get married if that makes you feel better about the whole thing. It’s not completely necessary, but I do think it’d help things go more smoothly—”
    She practically falls off the stool next to the kitchen island, her bare feet making a slap-thud against the tile. “ Married ? Have your baby ? Have you lost your fucking mind , Nick? There is no way that is ever going to happen. Sal—”
    “Oh, fuck Sal.” I’m so sick of hearing his stupid name. “Fuck Sal right in the ear. Forget about him. You’re mine now. I told you I’d take care of you, and I would. All I’m asking is one thing from you in return.”
    “Nick, that is a big fucking thing! You have no idea—”
    “Yeah, I do. You want me to protect your legacy—that’s your bakery. I want you to protect my legacy—that means I need a kid. An heir, if you want to put it that way. Obviously I can’t have one by myself, and let’s face it—I’m getting older. I’m in a job where I could drop dead any minute just because somebody doesn’t like my face. It’s time I start getting serious about this shit.”
    “But why…why me?” I could take that as an indication she’s giving my proposal serious consideration, but I’m not sure that’s how she means it.
    I lift a hand. “I’m getting to that. I like you, Sarah. You’re beautiful, you’re Italian, and you’re a good cook, obviously. You’ll be a good mother. I know that. And you’ve got to admit—we’re hot as fuck in bed.”
    I don’t mention the fact that Sal will lose damn near every bit of respect he’s garnered if I just take his fiancée from him right under his nose, but that’s part of it, too. I want to take Sal down, and I want to take him down hard. Aside from shooting him in the head in the park or something, this is the best way I