Whoever this motherfucker was, he wasn’t working alone, and he’d started killing men in other organizations and making it look like us, the Italians, had done it. He was mimicking something that happened in New York a while back. It was complete fucking chaos.
Every family was on edge, and trust between them had been broken. It was the worse war the families had seen in years. When they went to the mattresses, they had hit them hard. Some suspected it was one family who was doing it, causing the entire war. But in the end, it had been one man.
We had a copycat of that man, but I still found myself in a few precarious situations because the shit that was happening was making it look like it was me and Gio. We ruled Vegas, and unless someone fucked with us first, we didn’t need to be loud about it.
Things had gotten loud.
Umberto smoothed out his long, slicked-back hair and turned to face me. He spoke to me in Italian. “News, boss.”
One word I’d been waiting to hear, but the clock on the dash was ticking. I had somewhere important to be, and I didn’t want to deal with the situation until after. I refused to let the darkness of my life cloud the light in it. “Not now,” I said. “After the appointment.”
I stepped out of the car and fixed my suit. Umberto followed me inside, his eyes twitchy as he surveyed the area for threats.
Leonora had already checked in and was sitting next to Angelo in the waiting room. I’d paid for the entire day so no one else could get an appointment. The doctor knew who I was. Her only caveat was that if it was an urgent appointment, she would have to take it, but the office would let us know if that happened. I didn’t want to take a chance on the doctor’s office being the place the motherfucker got to my wife.
The thought made me twitchy and my trigger finger itch.
After I walked in, the nurse locked the door behind me. Leonora looked up from the magazine she was reading and smiled at me. She dug in her bag and lifted a folded piece of paper.
“Got mine.” She waved it.
I dug in my suit pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper that was identical to hers. “If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
“That’s what got us into this,” she said.
I laughed and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. I handed her my paper, and she handed me hers. We’d decided to guess what we thought the baby was, but not tell each other until right before the appointment.
Actually, it was Phoenix’s idea about the paper. He said that way we couldn’t accuse each other of cheating if one of us suddenly thought the other had changed their answer at the last minute. One game of Monopoly with the kid and it changed his entire life. But Leonora liked the idea and wanted to save the papers for the baby when he or she got older.
We opened the papers at the same time and saidgirlat the same time.
We grinned at each other, and when the nurse came out and said, “Whenever you’re ready, Mrs. Bigatti,” I took Leonora’s hand and refused to let go.
Turned out, we were right.
We were going to have a littlebambina.
Daphne Lilla Bigatti.
Leonora looked like she’d taken a bite out of the sun and was glowing after we left the office. It was almost like she was floating. I knew Kitty and Georgia were going to be waiting at the casino to ambush her with ideas for Daphne’s room.
I kissed her goodbye and told her I’d see her at home, but she held my shirt. “Where are you going?”
“Business.”
She searched my eyes. “You have reasons to come home,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to remind me, Aphrodite. Those reasons are in my DNA. That’s why I always fucking rush home to you.” I grinned. “I’m not young anymore—I’ve grown up since the race at Monza.”
“Not funny,” she whispered.
“There you go again, accusing me of having a sense of humor.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “A man doesn’t know how much he’s able to grow until he has the right woman by his side. I’m iron-clad now, my Aphrodite.”
She stood on her toes and kissed me, then kissed me again. She rested her head on my chest and then turned in a rush to where Angelo was waiting to help her into the car. I watched as she pulled away, and so did the thing beating in my chest, trying to run after her.
Some say men like me don’t have hearts.
Maybe that’s true, but whatever existed inside of me, in that void—it beat like a motherfucking drum when she walked into the room. It ached like it needed more blood when she walked out of it.
