Dante knelt to the sand and spread his arms wide, watching with pride as the little girl flew into his arms. He couldn’t help but tear up as she came closer, her dark black hair waving wildly in the wind.
For a moment, he saw his brother in the little darling, the youthful nature he’d possessed all those years ago, before drugs and corruption had ruined his life, taking him by the hand and leading him astray permanently and without warning. Drawing Ariela against his chest, he swung her around, thankful for the blessings he could still count, but never forgetting the man who’d made them possible, the man his brother had been before the criminal took hold.
“I missed you, Uncle Dante. I missed you so much,” Ariela sang, grabbing his hand the second he released her. “Come on. I have to show you the sand castle me and Billy built.”
“Billy?”
“Yes, my new friend. You know him don’t you?”
“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Dante said, rubbing his chin.
Ariela looked at him with strange innocence. “He said he knew you and Momma. Grandmama said he was safe. Harry, too.”
“Don’t tease her, Dante,” Brooklyn warned him as they passed her.
Dante hugged her again. “Of course I know Billy. He’s my cousin.”
“I have a cousin then too. Right?” Ariela asked, delight in her voice. “A real family cousin?”
“Yes, you do,” Dante said, saddened because Ariela so clearly wanted a larger family and what family she’d known had slowly been taken away.
“I wish I had a brother or sister,” she said, kicking at the sand. “Then I wouldn’t mind living away from my friends.”
Dante looked up in time to see Brooklyn smile a little wider. Studying her expression, he crooked his head, noticing then that something was definitely different about her.
Billy met them about that time, rushing by the sandcastle and bypassing Dante and Ariela long enough to grab Brooklyn around the waist. He spun her around, lifting her off the ground.
“I missed you,” he said, allowing her the opportunity to slide down his body. “You were away from me for two days and it seemed like an eternity.”
“I told you she was like a drug,” Dante said out of the corner of his mouth as he embraced his cousin.
“I’ll say,” Billy mumbled, moistening his lips and eyeing her like she was already bound to his bed.
About that time, Brooklyn’s mother strode up the beach, walking a small out-of-control poodle. Yapping like crazy, the white dog trotted along the waterline as if he couldn’t wait to dart under one of the small waves.
Mrs. Costello laughed at his wild behavior. “Come on, Prince. Meet the family.”
Brooklyn kissed her mother’s cheek and they stood back observing the others as they made nice with Prince, an apparent addition to their growing family.
With the thought, Dante focused on Brooklyn again, noticing how she laid a protective hand over her stomach, caressing the area around her belly button. Their eyes met then and she smiled, shrugged, and said, “A woman just knows.”
Dante winked, mouthed the words “I hope so” and returned to his conversation with Harry and Billy, keeping a careful eye on the women in his life—his brother’s daughter and his brother’s wife.
It was then that he realized his brother had forfeited so much for the love of money and power. In the end, money didn’t buy him the things he’d wanted most, the ability to provide well for his family. The money he’d earned was dirty money and filthy money always stained the lives it touched.
A debt was owed. A promise was made. In the end, a family was gained, his brother’s family, a family that shouldn’t have been his. And just how was he supposed to live with that?
* * * *
Hours later as he sat on the beach in deep thought, he asked Billy that very question, troubled throughout the day because of recent events.
“How can I stay here and love a woman who once belonged to my brother?”
“She never truly belonged to Martino, Dante,” Billy said, patting him on the back before taking a seat next to him.
“She married him.”
“She married who she thought he was, not the man he was, not the murderous criminal he later became.”
“And what about us?”
“What about us?” Billy asked, frowning. “I’m nothing like Martino. I’ve always worked behind the scenes to protect our family, but not because of the men who needed someone sweeping up behind them, but because of the women and children, the innocent and helpless.”
“That’s always been a problem with our family, hasn’t it?”
“What’s that?”
“The men who lived by the book, secured reputable jobs, and tried their best to make good on the Mancini and Mamazza names were accused of securing careers for ulterior motives. Our reasons for staying straight were often viewed as forward thinking, as a job secured as a means to further help our family’s criminal activities.”
“I guess,” Billy said, burying his bare feet in the sand. Never one to carry on a serious conversation, he said, “So I hear our girl kicked some ass back in New York.”
“Did she tell ya that?”
“No,” Billy drawled, rolling his eyes. “Harry. Remember him? He had a trace on Braxton. Damn man nearly had the pilot turn the plane around when he realized Braxton planned on raping our girl.”
“What?” Dante asked, rage settling in his veins as he rose to his feet.
“You mean you didn’t know?”
“No,” Dante deadpanned, the fury almost too much to contain. He stalked toward the bungalow, their temporary residence in paradise.
“Wait,” Billy said, catching him by the arm. “Don’t stir this, Dante. It’s over.”
“Like hell it is.”
“It is,” Billy insisted. “You can’t go back there. And why would you?”
“To settle an old score and to set the record straight.”
“Yeah? And then what?” Billy searched his eyes, his gaze as dark as his brother’s had once been.
He wondered then if Brooklyn saw the resemblance between Billy and Martino. He sure did.
“Let it go, man. History will show that men on the run never return unless they want to tempt fate. And fate typically isn’t as kind the second time around. Don’t go back there. Let it go. She wasn’t harmed. You made it out of the city alive. Going back will prove nothing.”
“Except clear my name so that maybe someday we can go home again.”
Billy waved his hand in front of the sea. “You think we can beat a view like this in New York City?”
Dante looked down the beach. In the distance, Brooklyn approached. She walked with a certain kind of swagger, her hair blowing in the wind, a smile slowly creeping across her lips as the moonlight captured her beauty. As if a spotlight followed her, Dante walked toward her, feeling as if he were drawn by the light into the darkness.
“You’re right, Billy,” he called over his shoulder, grateful that his woman didn’t endure the pain Braxton had meant to bring. “There isn’t a view anywhere comparable to this.”
Epilogue
“Are you sure she wanted to try natural childbirth?” Billy asked, returning to the bedroom with damp cloths.
“The midwife is the only way to go,” Dante said, taking one rag and wiping down her brow while Billy offered her some ice chips.
“Why?”
“Protection for us later,” Dante explained. “If she isn’t in the hospital, there’s no record of a birth.”
“Are you feeling okay about this?” Billy asked her, nervously chopping up the chips and trying to feed her another spoonful.
“I can hold a spoon, Billy,” Brooklyn said, touched by his show of tenderness.
“I’d rather do it,” he said, shoving the utensil between her lips again.
Around a mouthful of ice, Brooklyn said, “I can see both of you are very nervous here and it’s fine. I promise. I’ve met more difficult challenges. This will
be a piece of…”
At that very moment a contraction took hold and she grabbed both of them by their shoulders, clutching their broad forms with all her might. “Ah God!”
After about a minute, she collapsed against the bed, her breathing ragged, her brow damp from sweat. Her chest rose and fell, and she reminded herself of how much she wanted this baby, how desperately she needed another child, a sibling for her daughter, a daughter for her future husband.
“You’re doing great, beautiful,” Dante said, worry marking its definite line across his forehead. “We’ll have us another beautiful little Mancini in just a few minutes.”
“A few minutes?” she asked, loving his optimism but doubting that positive thinking would pay off in this case. “Dante have you read any of those books I asked you to read?”
“Why sure,” he replied, dotting her brow with the cloth. “I read the introduction and the author bios in each one.”
“And you expected to learn all you needed to know about labor by reading the sales and marketing material?”
He touched her cheek. “You’ve been here and done this before. I figured I’d leave this part up to you. I’ve already contributed to the cause.”
Another contraction came on stronger than the last. This time she screamed bloody hell. “The contribution you made didn’t cause you any pain best I remember!”
When the contraction subsided, she dutifully opened her mouth and Billy stuffed a spoon between her lips again, stroking her arm, and giving her props for being so brave. It was then when she noticed the quietness falling over the room. She turned her head, facing the man she loved, the man she’d just verbally attacked.
“I’m sorry, Dante.”
Dante’s eyes filled with tears. “You’re right and wrong. I’ve struggled. I’ve faced my share of demons. I’ve prayed and I’ve cried. I’ve stayed up all night. I’ve asked myself a thousand times what I’m doing here with my brother’s wife, my brother’s child.”
“Not now, Dante,” Billy whispered, apparently wise to the guilt Dante had been carrying. Guilt he’d failed to discuss with her. “This isn’t the time.”
“Be quiet, Billy,” she said, touching Dante’s cheek. “Why do you feel this way? Haven’t I given you everything you need?”
“You’ve given me everything. Yes, you have. And it isn’t fair that I’m here to enjoy you and our lives, while my brother is in his grave.”
Pushing her hips forward, she sat more erect, realizing she was only minutes from having her child, the daughter she and Dante created together, out of love and compassion as much as passion and carnal pleasures. Dragging her pregnant self to her side, she said, “You listen to me and you listen well. Martino made his decisions. His choices in life led him to an early death and while I miss him—yes Dante, sometimes I miss him—I didn’t know him. I didn’t know anything about him until it was too late.
“Sometimes I feel like you’re my second chance in life.” She reached behind her back and held Billy’s hand, squeezing his fingertips. “You both are.”
“I just want to make you happy. I want to give you everything you deserve in life.”
“You do, Dante, and you have,” Brooklyn assured him. “But you can’t live with regrets. I can’t. We’re family. We may be a mixed up sort of bunch, but regardless of what we are, we know who we are to one another. That’s what matters. Not who we were or who we might have been, but who we are now.”
Dante cradled her face and she kissed the inside of his palm.
A sharp pang zipped across her middle, leaving her out of breath. Doubling over, she said, “Okay now that that’s settled, I think it’s time to call the midwife.”
“Now?” Dante asked.
Billy jumped up and headed for the door. “I’ll be right back. I believe I saw her down by the beach.”
“Great,” Brooklyn muttered. “My midwife will show up in a bikini and my two guys won’t be able to keep their eyes off her ass.”
“There’s only one ass I want to spank today.”
“What?” Brooklyn screeched, not at all in the mood for such a suggestion.
His eyes danced with mischief. “Don’t get all excited on us. Billy is cutting the cord. I’m giving the kid the first swat on the bottom. We’re working together as a team here.”
“I like the sound of that,” she admitted, hoping for an expedient delivery.
“Believe me,” Dante said, this time his eyes holding that shimmer of lust. “I remember how you enjoy tag teams.”
“It depends on the team,” she said, admiring Billy as he reentered their room. “But so far I don’t have any complaints.”
About the Author
International bestselling e-book and trade paperback author, Destiny Blaine writes in all genres using several pseudonyms. Destiny lives in East Tennessee with her husband and daughter. Her son is serving in the United States Navy. For more information, please visit her website at www.destinyblaine.com.
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