Ti Amo (Battaglia Mafia Series)

How dare she let those five words be the first to pass between them. What about the little bambina clutching her legs? His bambina! He glanced down at the baby girl, and she buried her face into the back of her mother’s knee. She looked to be a toddler. He didn’t know much about kids, how they grew, but she stood and walked so she had to be at the very least two years old. His heart hammered so fast in his chest he wanted to grab the child to be sure. But he restrained and resisted his urges. She was after all only a baby and shouldn’t meet a father who had little self-control.

Mira however was a different matter. Look at her. As beautiful as the day he last saw her. She wore jeans, riding boots, a sweater under a matching leather waist jacket. However her up tilted breasts, slim waist that agilely defined her rounded hips, and fine shapely thighs made her body appear seductively feminine. He couldn’t see much of her hair. It looked longer but the knit eggshell white cap with blue stripes was pulled low to her brow.

“Did you miss me?” he asked in an even tone, refusing to let her beauty subdue him.

Mira bit down on her plump rose-colored bottom lip. She blinked long dark lashes at him over honey brown eyes. “I can explain,” came her soft reply.

“Who is the bambina hiding behind you? Explain her.”

The little one stuck her head out as if knowing he mentioned her. She blinked at him, and he got a good look at her eyes. Giovanni was a bit stunned by their beauty. A smile formed on the little one’s face as if she wanted to play with him, but it faded and she sucked on the plug in her mouth. Some of the dark ice around his heart thawed at the small exchange.

Mira removed her knit cap and stuck it in her jacket pocket. Her dark hair was flattened to her forehead but wavy strands framed her face. She knelt. She pulled the little girl around to unzip the puffy jumpsuit she wore to ward off the cold. The hood came down and curly brownish-blonde locks of hair sprang free. Her large blue eyes, and her mocha brown skin made her uniquely special. She wore a yellow shirt with dark green corduroy pants. Mira turned her daughter so she could face him. She kept her protectively close but Giovanni could see her face clearly. A face that looked so similar to Catalina’s when she was a small girl, he glanced to Lorenzo to see if he noticed too. Lorenzo stared at the child transfixed. He had.

“Who is she?” he asked, his voice going hoarse.

“She’s my daughter. I named her Eve Fabiana Battaglia.”

“Why?” he glanced up into Mira’s eyes.

“Because she’s your daughter too.”

“Eve Fabiana?” he repeated. He stood. No one spoke. Giovanni walked over to the little girl and knelt to her level. They were only a few feet apart. “Siete il bambina piccolo più dolce,” he said. Eve blinked at him, and he had to smile. It felt strange smiling. It was more of a twitching of his lips than the actual act. It had been quite some time since he was surprised, pleasantly surprised like this.

“Eve?” he extended his hand. He reached for the plug she sucked and removed it from her mouth. She had the sweetest pink rosebud lips. His little one frowned at him for the offense and immediately she grabbed the plug dangling from a bumblebee pin on a satin ribbon and stuck it back in her mouth. Eve sucked harder with a warning in her clear blue eyes for him not to try it again.

Mira spoke. “It’s her pacifier. She doesn’t like to be without it.”

“Oh? Pacy-flier.” Giovanni repeated. He then reached for her hand. She had little cute stubby fingers. He kissed her hand. Eve pulled away from him and turned to her mother for comfort. His daughter didn’t know him. The pain arrowed into his heart, and he could barely summon a breath. He was a stranger to his own flesh and blood. How could Mira be so cruel? Did she fear or hate him this much to keep him from his child?



Mira smiled at him. He said Eve was the sweetest little baby in Italian. Eve sucked on her pacifier and peeked back over at Giovanni, then turned her face away to bury it into Mira’s neck.

“What are you doing?” Kei asked, the pain in his voice made her cringe. When her gaze swiveled to Kei then Giovanni she saw the frozen heated glare he leveled on Kei.

“Remember what we discussed,” Kei said. Giovanni’s brows lowered.

Sienna Mynx's books