He gave me a small smile, this time effectively distracting me from the fact he was wearing all black (clearly for a reason). He was no doubt planning to “talk” to Zach’s attorney father, who just so happened to represent the Sicilian mafia here in New York. He held the mug between us. “Bianca gave me this.”

Nice deflection.

Also, it worked.

My shoulders sagged, and I ran my finger over the chip in the handle.

“You’re the only one who’s used this since she passed.” He casually set it beneath the machine and started it up. “It’s yours now.”

The way he could be so ridiculously sweet and sentimental one second, then ready to kill a guy (like Zach’s father) the next was just so very . . . well, Constantine.

“What am I going to do with you, mister?”

He faced me, drawing me against him. “I could think of a few things. All of them involve you naked.”

And just like that, consider me distracted again.

That sinful mouth tight to mine. Hands sliding under my top, cupping my breasts. Heat thrumming between us.

“Oy, get a room. Sheesh,” Colin grumbled as he entered the kitchen, his timing horrible as always.

Constantine groaned against my mouth. His hands fell to my sides, but he kept hold of me, refusing to turn toward our son.

“Do I need to have the sex talk with you two?” Colin deadpanned.

“Oh, you’ve got jokes? Like father, like son.” I angled around Constantine to face Colin, but I had a feeling his father would need to steal a moment to adjust himself before turning around.

Colin sat at the breakfast bar, stretching his arms. One look at his NYU shirt had me forgetting his silly words. Thankfully, the blood had come out of it just fine.

“So, the birds and the bees . . .” He laughed. “What would you like to know?”

“You better not know anything. You gave me your word.” I tilted my head toward the hall, gesturing to Lennon’s bedroom. She was officially sleeping in the Aruba room. Constantine had no need for it since he had me here instead of only memories of me.

Constantine cleared his throat as if he knew something I didn’t and pivoted around, hands sliding into his slacks’ pockets. I didn’t like that look.

“I haven’t. I know you think I have, but I haven’t.” Colin lifted his palms up. “That wasn’t the, uh, level I was talking about. Just let you think that because I was a little pissed when we talked that day.”

Constantine strode up alongside me, his jaw noticeably clenching as if unsure he was buying what our son was selling.