by Bethany-Kris
“I have to stop you now, or you’ll have me naked in the car before I know it,” she told him, a hint of chiding in her tone.
Mac chuckled. She was right. “You know you would damn well love every second of it, too.”
Melina didn’t even bother to try and deny his statement.
He was glad his wife enjoyed sex, considering he had one hell of an appetite where she was concerned. He couldn’t seem to get enough of Melina. The more he had her—the more she gave to him—the more he wanted from her, and of her.
Like a fucking drug being shot straight into his veins.
Now, if only he could get his wife on board with stopping her birth control.
Another time, Mac told himself.
Today was not the right day for all of that, not to mention the crazy it might bring when he finally made the request to his wife. But he did want that with Melina—soon, preferably. Two-point-five kids, the white fence, and maybe a dog, too. As long as it didn’t bite his ankles or chew his shoes. Hell, he was already working on the white fence thing in a way, although he had yet to tell Melina. He wouldn’t, not until he had everything settled and the ink was dry.
As for the babies … well, Mac wasn’t the only person in the equation. Melina had to want those sorts of things, too. He knew that she did want them eventually, but probably not anytime soon.
Especially not now, with The Dollhouse in the works.
Mac could wait.
For a little while, anyway.
“You have to let me go so I won’t miss my spa day with Victoria,” Melina said.
Reluctantly, Mac did as she said, releasing her and stepping back. With a wave of his hand at her car, he said, “Go, and get pampered. I like the taste of you after, anyway, all soft and sweet.”
Melina laughed. “There’s no helping you, is there?”
“Nope.”
No shame.
Mac had none where Melina was concerned.
Melina was just sliding into the driver’s seat when she called out, “Do you want to do something specific for supper? Or are you even going to be home in time for it?”
“I should be. Or do you want to meet up somewhere?”
“How about I bring something home?”
Mac nodded. “Sounds gr—”
His words were cut off when a familiar jingle sounded from his slack’s pocket. The unmistakable ringtone belonged solely to Luca’s private number that he used to contact his men. Melina heard it, too, as she glanced down at his pocket from the driver’s seat.
“Sorry, doll,” he said.
Melina just shrugged—she was getting used to their conversations and time being interrupted by Cosa Nostra, but that didn’t mean it was easy. “Give me a call if our plans need to change for tonight, all right?”
“Will do.”
Melina mouthed her “I love you” just as Mac answered the call on the second ring. He greeted the Pivetti Don while watching his wife pull out of the parking spot and head back toward the heart of Brooklyn.
“Boss,” Mac said, phone to his ear. “What can I do for you today?”
“Mac—Timothy’s Diner, thirty minutes.”
Shit.
Luca didn’t sound very pleased, but then again, it had been less than a week since one of his best friends and right-hand man was killed. That was sure to do some kind of number on even the coldest of men.
Even if they hid it well.
“Sure, boss,” Mac replied. “What’s happening?”
Tribute was another two weeks away yet, so that wasn’t it. Mac hadn’t done anything that would warrant him getting in shit or earning him a personal call from Luca to have a chat about it. And as far as the killing thing went, Luca had kept everyone and their fucking mothers at arm’s length ever since Matthew was gunned down on the night of Mac’s wedding.
Things were strange.
People were talking.
That was never a good sign.
Mac had a feeling that Luca wouldn’t let the nonsense go on for long.
The Pivetti Don’s next words confirmed Mac’s thoughts.
“It’s time to talk about Matthew,” Luca said, “and what we’re going to do about it.”
Mac was already heading toward his car before Luca had even finished his sentence.
Mac strolled through the front doors of Timothy’s Diner, and walked straight into a shouting match.
As was usual for the small, hole-in-a-wall diner, it was void of patrons that were not in some way connected to the Pivetti Cosa Nostra. So was the way with their businesses and the streets they ran like kings. It was not uncommon for an establishment to become claimed by mob affiliation in some way, shape, or form. Automatically, word would travel to the streets that the joint was not very welcoming to outsiders. Then, made men could safely come and go from those businesses to discuss whatever needed discussed without fear of someone overhearing. The owners of the joints were always well compensated for their … cooperation.
Timothy’s Diner was just one of many places.
And it was good for business.
“Those fucking savages, likely,” one Capo shouted.
Mac checked his watch, noting that no, he wasn’t late for the meeting. He’d made it in lots of time, just as Luca demanded during his short phone call. Tardiness was not in any way acceptable to the Don.
But even though he clearly wasn’t late, the meeting had obviously already started without him. It also seemed like everyone else was already there.
Mac didn’t mind.
Taking a seat in the back, he was determined to stay out of the drama as much as he could—God knew Mac had enough problems with a good majority of the Capos attending the meeting.
He wasn’t the least bit interested in getting into yet another verbal sparring match with one of the Pivetti Capos. It didn’t even seem like it was optional with some of these men. Mac only needed to open his mouth and someone else would be at the ready with an argument, wanting to disagree with him simply because he had an opinion to share.
Mac didn’t know if it was because he was the youngest Capo in the family, the way he had come about getting his button, his father’s shitty past in la famiglia, or the interest the boss had shown in him months ago.
Or hell … maybe it was a mixture of all four things.
Who fucking knew?
Mac didn’t have any desire to poke that bear today. Not with the boss watching, anyway. It wouldn’t lead to anywhere good.
Another shout brought Mac back to the conversation at hand. It was a new Capo this time with another opinion to share, apparently.
“The Albanians have been causing us one problem or another for a good decade or more. And those fucking scum don’t need a damn reason to come in on any of us. You just have to look at them while driving by and they’re ready to kill. Bastards.”
Luca sighed heavily, rubbing at his temples with two fingers and looking like he was entirely over the day and the men surrounding him. Through his fingers, he glared at the man throughout his entire tirade, saying nothing, and not once stopping the man from talking.
That was Mac’s first clue that something was wrong with Luca.
That, without a doubt, Luca was close to reaching his limit before he exploded.
By nature, Luca was cold, cool, and calm. But he never tolerated disrespect of any form from his men. Shouting and going on like the men currently were was certainly something Luca would not normally allow to happen.
Yet, there the boss was, doing just that.
It was all a little strange.
“It wasn’t the Albanian syndicate,” Enzo said quietly from his spot in a corner booth. With a coffee resting on the table in front of him, the underboss never took his attention away from the steaming mug as he spoke. “They have a habit of making a show and claiming a kill. It’s been almost a week, and not a single word has come out of their side. Regardless of past issues between our organizations, we can safely assume they were no
“And therefore, not our target,” Luca added firmly.
“But—” the Capo from earlier started to say.
“Not our target.”
“What about the Russians?” Anthony—a Capo that regularly tested Mac’s patience and good nature—asked. “We had that scuffle two months ago down in the Coney. They’re known for their patience. They like to wait, to make you think all is well again, before they strike and have their revenge. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
The room grew quiet as the suggestion was considered. Glances and silent questions passed between men, wondering but never speaking out loud.
But while the men were looking between one another for answers, Mac looked to the only man in the room whose voice truly mattered above the rest.
Luca.
The ever-calm, always regal Don seemed tired.
Worn down, maybe.
A darkness lingered in his features.
An emptiness colored his gaze.
Grief, Mac realized suddenly.
Luca was grieving for his friend who had been killed on his very property—a home that Mac would consider to be one of the safest places, with its security.
Except apparently, it wasn’t the safest place.
Mac had to wonder—did Luca blame himself?
His thoughts drifted back to the argument he’d witnessed between Luca, Enzo, and Matthew on the night of his wedding. Whatever had caused it couldn’t have been good—it had been heated—and Luca rarely, if ever, publicly fought with anyone. Especially if others who were not a part of their lifestyle might be watching.
Mac had, for a short while, his suspicions about Matthew’s death and Luca’s possible involvement. It wouldn’t be unusual for Luca to kill someone, even if that someone was a friend, should they give him a good enough reason. But it hadn’t really been Mac’s place to say anything or ask questions. No made man demanded answers from their boss. That was not the way things worked in Cosa Nostra.
So, yeah, Mac had wondered.
Who wouldn’t after what he’d witnessed?
Still, as he watched a look of sadness pass between Luca and Enzo, a look that was missed by the other men, Mac wasn’t so sure Luca had done something to Matthew.
But of course, if there was anything Mac had learned in this life, it was to trust no one.
Grief was not just subjective to loss.
For some men, it was also a reflection of regret and guilt.
“The Russians …” Luca trailed off as all eyes turned to him again, conversation ceasing. “That’s unlikely as well.”
No murmurs passed between the men that time. No one questioned Luca’s statement at all.
“If not another syndicate,” Anthony said, “then the only plausible explanation is rather simple, isn’t it, boss?”
Luca didn’t respond.
But he really didn’t have to, Mac believed.
The boss’s silence was answer enough.
Enough to make them all question.
To allow them to wonder.
… to look between one another and let the suspicion burn.
If not from the outside of their organization, then there was only one other possible explanation.
It must have come from the inside.
That probably concerned Mac the most.
Suspicion bred fear.
Fear would breed contempt.
Contempt was known to breed unrest.
Unrest meant a lack of stability.
The strongest of organizations could and would crumble under that sort of mistrust.
And Mac knew that if he had been able to witness the disagreement between Luca, Enzo, and Matthew the night of his wedding … it was possible that more men had seen it, too.
All it would take was a thought turned into a word, and then to a rumor.
It was a dangerous game.
But Mac wasn’t sure if Luca knew it was one he was now playing with the men.
Shortly after, the men began to trickle out of the diner once Luca had dismissed them. As Mac stood to leave with the rest, the raising of Luca’s hand stopped him. It was only then that Mac noticed a young man—maybe a couple of years younger than him—sitting in a corner booth with his attention on the window.
Mac did a double-take of the kid.
He looked like … Luca.
“I have a request to make of you, Mac,” Luca said once the diner had cleared.
“I’m open to whatever, boss,” Mac replied.
Luca nodded, but his smile was fleeting. He waved at the young man. Mac passed the guy a look, unsure of what Luca wanted from him.
“I want you to take him under your wing and have him work with you for a bit—as an apprentice of sorts,” Luca said.
Mac wasn’t as ready to agree to that as he had previously said once the order was out in the air. Taking on an apprentice to his Capo position and his crew was a great deal of work and time. Time Mac really didn’t have.
“I’m a bit new to my position for that, aren’t I?” Mac asked.
Luca shrugged like it didn’t make much of a difference to him. “But I asked it of you, and of course, I trust you.”
“With what?”
Luca gestured to the quiet young man whose attention was back on the windows like he didn’t have a single damn to give about the entire conversation and day. “Enric Pivetti. My son.”
Well, then.
Fuck.
“So, tell me, how’s married life treating you?” Victoria asked.
Melina smiled at her sister-in-law as they enjoyed their pedicures. “No complaints.”
“You aren’t going to get all boring and sappy on me now, are you?”
“Don’t get it twisted. Just because I’m married, doesn’t mean I’m going to lose my edge.”
Victoria smirked. “We’ll see. Next thing you know, my brother will have you barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”
Melina’s eyes narrowed as Victoria laughed.
“Sweet sister, you must have forgotten your brother didn’t marry a nice little Italian homemaker. I’d have his balls if he tried that shit.”
The dark-haired woman doing Melina’s pedicure gasped and Victoria laughed harder.
“See. This is one of the reasons I love you, Melina. You’re the perfect woman to keep Mac’s ass in line.”
“Hey, give your brother some credit. He’s a remarkable man.”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “Okay. Now you do sound all lovesick and sappy.”
“Don’t be a hater, Victoria. Wedding bells could be ringing for you before you know it.”
“No, thank you. I’ll pass. Besides, I don’t need Ma breathing down my neck for grandbabies. I’m surprised she hasn’t said something to you and Mac about it.”
Melina admired the opaque, dark-blue color on her toes before she answered.
“We haven’t been married that long.”
“You’ve been married long enough to be pregnant by now. Big Italian family, remember?”
“Whatever. Your mom only has two kids.”
“That’s because it became evident sooner, rather than later, that my father is a piece of shit. Ma wasn’t going to bring another child into the world to have to suffer. But Mac is nothing like James.”
“Trust me, I’m well aware of just how little Mac and James have in common,” Melina said.
“So then you see my point. You and Mac are the future of our family and Ma is ready to see that future.”
Melina was quiet as she digested what Victoria had just shared with her.
Cynthia Maccari wanted grandkids.
Preferably, now.
It was a lot to take in.
“Mac and I haven’t even discussed children since we’ve been married. We’ve just been enjoying each other,” Melina confessed.
“Do you want kids?”
Melina swallowed. “Yes, but …”
“But what?”
“Sometimes I’m afraid of bringing them into a world that is so unpredictable.”
“I can understand that, especially with Mac’s lifestyle.”
“It’s not even necessarily that. Life can be a real bitch, all on its own.”
“You said a mouthful there, Melina, but don’t let that get in the way. Mac would move heaven and earth for any child the two of you had and you’d be a great mother.”
“You sure have a lot of faith in my parenting skills. Faith I’m not sure I have.”
Victoria tapped Melina on her forearm. “And why is that?”
“I lost my Mom when I was eight and there’s so much in life that I was left unprepared for. Motherhood definitely fits in that arena.”
“Melina, I’m sure that everything will come to you whenever the time comes. Now, no more excuses. I’ll give you and my brother a little more time and then I’m going to be looking for a niece or nephew that I can spoil.”
“Oh, Lord. More pressure.”
Victoria’s phone rang and she answered it, leaving Melina to her thoughts as she waited for her toenail polish to finish drying.
A baby.
She wondered if Cynthia had said something to Mac about it and if he’d just chosen not to share it with Melina.
She wasn’t naïve.
Mac was a man.
A made man.
He’d want a son to carry on his name.
To continue restoring dignity to the Maccari name that James had nearly sullied beyond repair.
Mac would want daughters too.
Little princesses that he could spoil.
And there was no doubt in Melina’s mind that Mac would be an amazing father, devoted and loving.
But now wasn’t the time.
Not with everything that was going on.
It wouldn’t be fair to bring a child into the world, in the midst of uncertainty.
But still, Melina couldn’t stop herself from smiling as she imagined the pitter-patter of little feet running around. Resolving to speak with her husband about the expansion of their family at a later time, Melina carefully put her shoes back on and paid for the services she and Victoria had received. After hugging and promising to meet up again soon, Melina left the spa and headed toward the lot where she’d parked her car.
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