by Bethany-Kris
Catrina nodded jerkily, wetness glazing her eyes. “Okay.”
“No more lifting on Michel.”
“Got it.”
“Tell me if you’re tired or sick so I can let you rest or chill out.”
“I will.”
“And you’re going to hate me for it, but no business, Cat. It’s fucking risky on a good day, but when you’re involved, the danger level increases by a dozen.”
Catrina cocked a brow challengingly. “I’m pregnant, not disabled.”
Dante chuckled. She had no issue with his other demands, but talk about removing her from his side running their crime family to keep her from possibly being hurt, and she was willing to fight him tooth and nail. That was his girl. Crazy as hell.
“Exactly,” Dante said softly. “You’re pregnant with my child, and we both know this is the last chance we’re going to have to see this come to fruition. Don’t be ridiculous. It isn’t safe. If I need to attach two bodyguards to your ass to keep you away, I will do that. Do not push me on it, Amore. It will happen.”
“You’re so fucking pigheaded,” she replied, pouting.
“So fucking in love with you, you mean.”
Catrina grinned. “Well, that too.”
“Keep it just between us for now, right?” Dante asked.
“Just between us.” Catrina’s nose scrunched. “Well, no … I have to call your mother. She would positively die if I didn’t tell her the very moment after we knew.”
Dante laughed. It had taken a little time, but once Cecelia realized how happy and content Catrina truly made Dante, she accepted her third daughter-in-law into the family fold. Dante was grateful and he knew Catrina was pleased his mother had finally given her the respect she was owed and love she deserved.
“Yeah, you better call Ma.”
• • •
“What’s got you so happy?” Gio asked when Dante finally returned to the outside.
Apparently keeping his excitement under wraps was not going to be as easy as he first thought. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You look like someone just dosed you with happy pills or something.”
“It’s a good day for me, Gio. That’s all.”
Michel ran up to his father, hands slapping down on both of Dante’s knees. Leaning down, Dante kissed his son on the forehead before sending him off again to play with Lucian and Johnathan.
“Make sure that bat doesn’t hit my kid,” Dante warned.
Lucian didn’t respond, simply flipped his brother the bird and went back to the kids
Dante didn’t even care. Gio picked up on that right away.
“Seriously, what the fuck is up?”
“Nothing, I said. So hey, you’re really done having kids?”
The best way to get Gio off a topic was to distract him with something else. Especially if that something else meant someone was questioning his choices.
“Seems early to be making big decisions like that,” Dante added.
Gio scowled. “Considering there was a needle and knife to my balls to make sure it wasn’t going to happen again, yeah, I’m done.”
Dante cringed. “Ouch.”
“One of the perks you don’t have to worry about, man.”
Well, maybe not. Dante didn’t correct his younger brother.
“Kim was really okay with it?”
“Kim hated being pregnant. It wasn’t easy on her. She was sick from the day she found out to five minutes before Andino was born. Add in she could barely do anything because of the constant sickness, then the postpartum hemorrhage, and the depression from feeling like she failed somehow, she didn’t want to do it again. I didn’t want my wife unhappy, and my son is more than enough.”
“I get that,” Dante said, passing a glance towards his own son out on the lawn.
“Besides, I was thinking about stuff.”
“And?”
Gio shrugged. “And maybe I want to go back to school in a few months and get a start on finishing my law degree. After all, Paulie isn’t getting any younger and he’s been ready to retire from being consigliere ever since Dad stepped down. Things are slow for me right now, and I have guys handling my shit all over the city because it’s becoming dull. Who are you going to choose to give that position to, huh?”
“Still focusing on criminal defense, little brother?”
“Of course,” Gio replied with a smirk. “God knows someday one of us is going to need it.”
“Dad never did.”
“Dad isn’t us.”
Dante exhaled heavily. “Truth.”
“Kim wants me off the streets, too.”
“Makes sense,” Dante said quietly. “You’ve been doing it for years. Time for something new. I wouldn’t mind you as my right-hand now that you’ve got your shit together.”
Gio tossed his brother a look, still wearing his smug grin. “Do you think Dad always had it planned out this way? Like all three of us would end up running the family?”
“I have no fucking doubt about it.”
“He told me once he gave his life to Cosa Nostra.”
“What’s your life?”
“Andino.”
Dante nodded. “And we are his entire life, Gio.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Ready, piccolo?”
“Ready!”
Dante looked up to see Lucian holding a ball and standing just a few short feet away from Johnathan who was holding the miniature wooden bat. Ten feet back, Michel sat on the grass, waiting as patiently as he could for his turn.
Dante wasn’t entirely sure Lucian’s closeness was a good plan after the ball was tossed. After all, Johnathan’s bat was just about the right height to send the ball to connect with his father’s groin.
“Ah, Lucian, I don’t think that’s a smart—”
Gio shook his head beside his brother, stopping the warning. “Let it go, Dante. I live for shit like this. Plus, if he’s stupid enough to do it, let him suffer while we laugh at his expense.”
And that right there was why the kids loved Gio.
Sure enough, Johnathan hit the ball, sending it flying directly at his father. Luckily for Lucian, he saw the ball coming and managed to dodge the worst of it, but it smacked his inner thigh pretty damn close to the special spot.
Both Gio and Dante roared with laughter, waking up Andino still snuggled into his father’s chest in the process.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Lucian shouted.
Johnathan dropped the bat. “That’s bad word.”
A tiny fat hand popped out palm up.
“What in the hell is he doing?” Dante asked.
Gio chuckled, but didn’t answer.
“That’s bad word, Papà,” Johnathan repeated, hand still out and waiting. “Gives one, now.”
“Johnathan Antony, I told you—”
“Gives one now, Papà.”
Gio’s chuckles became louder as he tried to hold the laughter back and failed miserably. Dante was so damned confused but amused at the same time, he didn’t know what was going on. Chances were, it had something to do with Gio.
“Mamma!”
“Fine,” Lucian snapped. His own hand disappeared into his pocket, pulling out what looked to be a piece of candy wrapped in shiny paper. He handed it over to his son which quieted the child’s blackmail instantly. “Here, take it and go.”
Gio laughed louder. “God, that’s fucking golden. Some of my best work right there.”
Finally, Dante understood, his own laughter shaking his body. “You’re so awful, Gio.”
“I know, I know. But it’s awesome, right?”
Lucian stalked across the lawn, glaring at his youngest bother all the while. “I hate you for teaching him that.”
“No, you don’t,” Gio replied. “You just pretend like you hate it.”
“How often do you cuss in front of him?” Dante asked Lucian.
“Obviously too often. Gio couldn’t teach him something usefu
l, like a fucking swear jar or something. No, it had to be candy.”
Johnathan’s constant energy suddenly make a hell of a lot more sense.
“You think so low of me, Lucian. Pretty soon I’m going to teach him why money is more valuable than candy,” Gio informed like it was nothing. “Jordyn’s going to need a break, anyway. That’s what you get when you choose me for a Godparent. Should have thought that one through a little better.”
Lucian glowered. “Still fucking hate you.”
“Like I said, no you don’t.”
Gio stood, spreading out a blanket to the grass and setting a now awake Andino down. The baby blinked up at the world surrounding him, tiny arms waving and legs kicking. Gio patted the baby’s belly before coming to sit back down with his brothers.
For a long while, Dante watched the three boys out on his back lawn and he realized something. The age order of the brothers’ sons followed the same pattern as their fathers’ birth order. Lucian had the oldest, Dante had the second oldest and Gio had the baby. What were the odds of that?
Of course, there were still two more births to come over the next year, maybe more if Lucian and Jordyn continued growing their litter of kids. Strangely, Dante felt some sort of finality that these would be the only boys.
“You know Michel will never be able to join la famiglia,” Gio said quietly, side-eyeing Dante.
“I’m aware.”
The rules for La Cosa Nostra were clear. The man had to be at least half Italian and it needed to come from his father’s side. Michel’s full bloodline was unknown, and while they could safely assume he was full Sicilian, someone could try and dispute it. Dante wouldn’t have his son being looked down upon because of his blood.
“And I really don’t care,” Dante added, chuckling. “One less thing for me to concern myself with over him as he gets older.”
“What about Cat?” Lucian asked, cocking a brow. “She might be slowing down a little, but she’s still got a team of people working under her. She’s always going to be a Queen Pin, Dante. Michel might follow after her. Think about it.”
Dante didn’t have to. “I guess he’ll have one hell of a teacher, then. I wish him luck, and I’m glad it’s not me.”
Gio laughed. “Yeah, considering how particular she is, me, too.”
“I got an interesting call this morning,” Dante informed his brothers.
Both men glanced over at him, waiting for him to continue.
“Something about Chicago,” Dante said.
“What about it?” Gio asked.
“Apparently the ground for our syndicate there is … shaky.”
“Terrance Trentini, you mean,” Lucian said.
“Yep.” Dante sighed, kicking out his boots and crossing his ankles. “Feelers were being put out to the Commission. Get what I’m saying?”
Lucian coughed, hiding his surprise. “Seriously?”
“I guess so. That boss is a few steps away from meeting his maker, man.”
“Shit,” Gio muttered.
“Who put out the feeler?” Lucian asked.
Dante shook his head. “Not important and not our business. We could do with a new leader for the Chicago syndicate, anyway. Terrance has worked enough of our nerves. I had no issue with sending an affirmative back on my end for the hit.”
“What about the other members of the Commission?” Gio asked.
“Wait and see,” Dante replied. “And while we’re waiting, stay the fuck out of it. Especially if it does go down. Just because I give an affirmative on a boss’s death doesn’t mean I want to be involved with a war in Chicago.”
Gio’s brow furrowed. “Why would there be a war?”
“His only son is unmade, his grandson is a major fuck-up, and nobody knows who’ll take the open seat. Half of the men will want someone they can manipulate to fill it while the other half will want a man who can be the manipulator. You know what that means.”
“Blood,” Lucian answered.
“Not ours, though,” Dante said.
Gio nodded, resting back in his chair. “Yeah, we got it.”
“What are we supposed to teach them, huh?” Dante asked, not directing his question to either of his brothers in particular. He stared out at the kids on the grass, even little Andino still kicking his legs and waving his arms.
“Who, the boys?” Lucian asked.
“Yeah.”
“About what?”
“Life, I guess.”
“Same thing Dad taught us,” Lucian replied, glancing to his brothers.
“Have honor,” Gio said.
“Love fiercely,” Lucian added.
Dante smiled. “Be filthy.”
Epilogue
“You are such an asshole, Michel!”
“Watch your mouth,” Catrina said as the car came to stop.
“Leave my shit alone, Catherine. I won’t tell you again.”
“Slow the fuck down, Michel,” Dante shouted after his nearly seventeen-year-old son. “Cazzo, you’re working on the last nerve I have left, son.”
The words weren’t even completely out of his mouth before the SUV door slammed shut, drowning out Dante’s warning. Glaring into the backseat where his teenaged son had vacated with all the attitude that kid could muster, Dante sighed harshly.
“Give him a break, bello,” Catrina said, unbuckling her seat belt. “I think he’s having a rough time with all of this.”
“Can I get out?” Catherine asked, her years of learned sarcasm oozing all too sweetly. “Or does someone feel like yelling at me, too?”
Dante’s frustration climbed a notch as he regarded his thirteen-year-old daughter. Teenagers were the worst invention mankind ever created. Or God, whatever. There was no satisfying those little monsters. Rudeness and insolence were commonplace daily. The constant defiance was a battle Dante had yet to win.
He was mob boss, for Christ’s sake, controlling hundreds of men, yet he couldn’t manage to calm the hell his children were.
God knew Dante loved his son and daughter. Oh, he adored them. Catherine and Michel were his pride and joy. Everything he had that was good inside his soul was put into those children. They wanted for nothing, which may have been part of the problem, and their parents doted on them every single day of their lives.
They were a true principe and principessa.
But that didn’t mean he had to like them all of the fucking time.
“Catherine Cecelia …” Dante warned, giving his daughter a look he hoped voiced his displeasure of her disrespect loud and clear.
“Yes, Daddy?”
Sweet as sugar, Catherine smiled like an angel. She looked stunningly like her mother but with his green eyes and dark hair. Dante knew better than to fall into his daughter’s seemingly innocent trap. She was her mother through and through. Catrina couldn’t deny that girl if she tried. Spit from her mouth, that’s what Catherine was. Dante felt awful for whatever sorry fucker fell in love with his daughter.
May God save that poor man’s soul because Dante sure as hell wouldn’t. As long as he was a good man, Dante planned on willingly handing Catherine over.
“Daddy?” Catherine asked again.
“Get out of the damn vehicle, Catherine,” Cat snapped, rubbing circles into her forehead.
Catherine did as she was told. No matter how angry the girl made her father, she was never frightened of him. Her mother, however, was an entirely different story. Catherine and Catrina were too alike for their own good.
Once the door slammed shut, Catrina huffed in the passenger seat. “They’re turning me gray.”
Dante scoffed, eyeing his wife from the side. “You’re just as red as you always were.”
“Thanks to my monthly trip to the salon. Why did we agree to have a child after Michel?”
“You love her.”
Just like he did.
“Maybe so, but I don’t have to like her a whole lot.”
“If you two weren’t so damn alike,
you might not butt heads as often.”
“I doubt it. When does this nonsense end?” his wife asked quietly, her beautiful features pained.
“According to my mother, never.”
Catrina gasped in mock horror. “No.”
“Sorry, kitten. You asked.”
“Can we lock them in their rooms until they turn eighteen and then kick them out into the wild like other animals do with their young?”
Dante chuckled. “Social Services says no.”
Despite his wife’s agitation with their daughter, Dante knew Catrina loved Catherine with every fiber of her being. From the moment their daughter took her first breath, Catrina was smitten. Catrina had taught Catherine the same independence, fierceness, and confidence she had from the moment the girl learned to talk and walk. It was only the last couple of years that a distance had been put between the two and a wall kept getting built higher and higher.
Dante understood exactly why it was happening, even if Catrina didn’t like to talk about it. His wife hadn’t been in the business for a long time—not her own in a direct manner, anyway. Sure, she still stood at Dante’s side in the Marcello crime family, but Catrina had long since passed on her crown in her trade to someone else.
Really, he was grateful she had. Over the years, Catrina had gained more enemies in her business than she had friends. People seemed trustworthy and friendly enough until they wanted to become competition. Catrina never stood for competition. She was still Queen, though. Behind the scenes, running women she trained and groomed to be beautiful ghosts in the market like she had once been.
Nevertheless, Catherine was curious. Hiding who you were to your children when they had every access to your past with just a click of a button on their phones was an impossible task. Dante didn’t hide things from his children, he never had, but he expected them to understand their place, too. Sometimes that meant pretending you didn’t know a thing.
No, it wasn’t Catherine building those walls and putting distance between her and her mother. It was Catrina. Because if she couldn’t curb her daughter’s curiosity in their business, her next best effort was to close off the very idea completely. Unfortunately, that meant closing off herself to her daughter, as well. Whether she liked it or not, Catrina would always be Queen. Maybe a different kind, but still a queen.
