The Claim (22 page)

“Ah ha! So he is trouble!”

“Ma, have you just met me?”

That was true. The girly holiday was followed by regular dinners, Rocco soliciting Michelle’s advice every now and again, especially when he wanted to buy his wife a gift. “She thinks I’ve done something wrong.”

“Have you?” Michelle demanded.

“I’m a paragon of virtue,” Rocco replied. “Your daughter corrupted me.”

It made her laugh. He always managed to do that. And bring her cakes from crazy old Nonna. She wanted to hold on to her belief that he was a bad seed, but dammit if that naughty, irascible boy wasn’t making her change her mind.

The day that Anna gave birth to her own daughter was the day Michelle finally let go. Rocco brought out her creamy-skinned granddaughter and eased her into Michelle’s arms. “Please don’t let me kill every boy who looks at her. I don’t want her to have to visit me in prison.”

Michelle burst out laughing. “We let you live, didn’t we?”

Rocco distractedly stroked his thumb over his daughter’s forehead. “That’s because you love me.”

Michelle looked up from her granddaughter’s yawn. “You know, that’s actually true.”

His smile was the seal on her soul, bound to the devil. “Knew it.”


BILLY

Thank you for reading. To read more stories in the Italian Knights  series, check out the following:

Windows
(Nick and Gina)

On Caristo’s Watch
(Tony and Lydia)

Billy London

Ah, poor Billy. The only girl between two boys who each have nearly a foot on her. Didn't stop her from starting physical fights with them. She still thinks she can take them. So while she used to hide away in her wardrobe to read a book or four, she started to question why the heroines in those books would just lie there and take it. No, not just sex, but downright James-Bond-backhand-slapping, do-as-you're-told-woman, inappropriate lie there and take it.

She couldn't understand it. These women were just playing that mental woman from
Coming to America
, Miss “Whatever You Like” who barked like a dog and hopped on one foot. Billy didn't want to do that. Definitely not because one empty-headed fool with different anatomy told her to. So she started to create characters and worlds where the women could own their sexuality, their intelligence, their right to turn around and say “jog on, mate” without apology.

The small problem was that other people wanted to read what she was had written. “Er...why?” didn't cut it as an answer. After years of prodding and pleading and come on and for goodness’ sake, what's the point otherwise, she closed her eyes and pressed “submit.” Actually, she had Prosecco, limencello and white wine, then pressed “submit.” Who would have thought people would actually enjoy reading about the crazy characters who live in her head? But they have done, and Billy feels rather proud of that connection with her fellow man.

Billy lives in London with the most patient family in the world and doesn't forget for a minute how lucky she is. Well, she wouldn't mind a BBC adaptation of one of her novels... Ooh, with Richard Armitage!