Modern Romance June 2016 Books 5-8. Tara Pammi

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      Last week their family had been made complete.

      ‘Mama! Papa!’ Monica’s voice came over the intercom.

      Monica said it over and over, as she had in the week since she’d been home. She was like a little wind-up doll, practising the words she had always wanted to say.

      ‘I’ll go,’ Roman said.

      But Anya couldn’t help herself, and went with him.

      And they met Josie at the door, who was running to be the one to greet the little girl too.

      She was adored and now knew it.

      Monica was sitting up in her pink bed and her blond hair was sticking up as if it had been rubbed with a balloon. Her whole face beamed as they came in and she held out her arms. She was delighted, not just that Mama and Papa had answered her call but that lovely Josie was here and that they’d brought her baby brother in too.

      Roman sat on the bed and handed Dominik over.

      Anya watched as so very patiently he showed Monica how best to hold him, as his large hands hovered to protect his son.

      Dominik looked up at his big sister and smiled at her.

      ‘Ne plach,’ Monica said, and Anya frowned because Monica was telling the baby not to cry and yet Dominik was smiling.

      And then she realised it was Roman who had teared up.

      There was so much love in this room, and beyond.

      His twin was here, with his wife and niece.

      He had all his family safe home.

      Roman cleared his throat and then spoke to his daughter. ‘We have visitors. Your family have come from England to see you,’ he said, and then smiled as Monica reached to her bedside table and put on a little silver plastic tiara.

      She was ready now to meet them!

      Roman carried both Dominik and Monica with ease and told her that their visitors were her aunt, uncle and a little cousin named Nadia.

      ‘Warn her,’ Anya said, remembering Nadia’s shocked gasp when she had inadvertently run to Roman instead of Daniil.

      ‘No,’ Roman said, smiling.

      He knew his little girl.

      They walked out onto the balcony and a very happy Monica smiled and gave a royal wave to Libby, who promptly melted on sight.

      And then Monica looked at Daniil and her little head cocked to the side and her blue eyes narrowed. Then she turned to look at her papa and then back to Daniil, but then she started to laugh. She had the most infectious laugh in the world.

      It was a wonderful day, a family day. After dinner Daniil and Libby jetted back to London with the promise that they would be over to see them very soon.

      As Roman put Monica to bed Dominik cried out and Anya went to settle him.

      She walked into the cream and lemon room. He lay in the antique crib she had been sure would never be filled, and her heart seemed to squeeze in love for her son.

      He would have all the love his father hadn’t and Monica would have the same, and she would give her children support rather than obsession.

      For whatever they wanted to be.

      Just as she’d had Roman’s support, in his own unique way.

      She opened the door to her dance studio. It had handles up high so that little people would not interrupt her when she trained. Mostly, though, the door was left open and sometimes she exercised with Dominik lying on a mat, kicking his legs in the air as Anya warmed up.

      Just this morning Monica had joined her, copying her mother and loving watching herself in the mirror. Roman had suggested that they put in a smaller barre for her.

      Anya heard Roman’s deep baritone, singing Monica to sleep with the song that still brought tears to Anya’s eyes.

      She lay on a mat and listened.

      Roman had learnt French through song and he was gently teaching Monica the same.

      And it was now a song for her.

      A little later Roman came in carrying two glasses and two bottles, one of champagne, the other mineral water.

      ‘Hey,’ Roman said in surprise when Anya held up her glass for bubbles. ‘What’s this?’

      ‘You’ve only ever known me pregnant or nursing, Roman.’

      ‘No,’ he said. ‘I knew you a long time ago.’

      He had.

      He filled up her glass and she tasted icy champagne as he joined her on the floor.

      There was so much to celebrate and they chinked their glasses but with one sip Anya put hers down.

      So too did he.

      And as they kissed and made love, as he moved deep within her, she found herself gazing into a mirror.

      There were hundreds of images of them, of Anya and Roman.

      Yet they made memories now.

      * * * * *

Signed Over to Santino

      Maya Blake

       Javier stopped Carla by pressing his lips against hers, hot and hard, and then pulled away before temptation got out of hand. ‘Take the night, think about it, and give me your answer in the morning. I know you’ll choose wisely.’

      ‘You’re so certain you know what I’ll decide?’

      He shrugged. ‘Besides the pleasure you’ll receive in my bed, there’s the added benefit that once your father knows you’re mine—truly mine—he’ll think twice about threatening you again.’

      ‘So those are my choices? Choose you or choose him?’

      ‘The writing’s been on the wall for a while, Principessa. This way you know you’re backing the right horse.’

      He flung the door open and grabbed her hand. In the bright light of the foyer he caught a clearer glimpse of her outfit and cursed himself for giving her the night to agree to his demands. The ache in his groin alone threatened to fracture his mind.

      Although his every instinct screamed at him to go after her, when she’d muttered goodnight and made a beeline for her bedroom Javier stayed put.

      Morning would come soon enough.

      Carla Nardozzi would be his.

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