“She was crying in her bed last night,” my brother admits, coming up to us with our father at his side. Frank turned sixteen recently—three days before my little sister turned fourteen—and though he’s had a growth spurt these past few months, he’s still a head shorter than my six-foot-two-inch frame. “I talked with her. She is terrified of something happening to either of you,” he says.
“Your sister is a sensitive soul,” Papa says, his expression melting as he stares at our littleprincipessa.
“She has a big heart,” Mama adds, leaning into my father as he slides his arm around her shoulders. She tilts her face up to his. “Joel, we should talk with her tonight.”
“We will,amore mio.” My father leans down, kissing her tenderly, and a lump forms in my throat.
Frank and I exchange looks.
My parents have a kind of love that is most unusual within themafioso. They are both from Italian American families, but where Papa’s family has been involved withla famigliafrom the birth of the organization in America, Mama’s family has not. Her parents were not keen on her marrying Joel Messina, fearing what it meant for her life. But my parents were deeply in love, and nothing else mattered to Mama.
As I look at them, still so in love after twenty-six years of marriage, I can’t help but visualize me and Natalia in the future, staring at one another with the same adoring looks on our faces.
Reality returns, and pain slams into me, punching the air from my lungs and almost knocking me off my feet.
I could see it.
Nat and I being together for eternity.
Loving one another with the same fierce devotion as my parents.
But that is not a reality that will ever exist. For either one of us. She is already promised to another, and with my ambitious plans to climb the ranks within the organization, I know my choice might not be my own either.
“Hey.” Mateo approaches with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, grief etched all over his face. “Papa wants us to join him in the study.”
My eyes instantly bounce between Natalia and Carlo. The latter smirks, cocking his head to one side, and I want to rip out his insides and make him eat them. “I can’t leave Natalia.”
“Brando will watch her,” Mateo says, his dead eyes lacking their usual spark.
“We will ensure she is protected,” Papa adds, clamping a hand on my shoulder.
“We are here for you.” Mama pulls Mateo into her arms. “For you and Natalia. Angelo too. Whatever you need, you let us know.” Easing back, she clasps his cheeks, pressing a kiss to his brow. “Our home is your home. Always.”
Mateo has been a firm feature in our household for years, in the same way everyone is familiar with me here. We have been thick as thieves from the moment we met as six-year-olds, and our families are extensions of one another.
“Thank you, Paulina.” Mateo kisses her cheeks in a daze. “It means a lot to us.” He thrusts out his hand toward my father. “Congratulations on your promotion, capo. It is well deserved and long overdue.”
My father beams proudly as he shakes Mateo’s hand. “It is my honor to serve your family.” My father nods respectfully. “I have the utmost admiration and respect for your father, and you will make a wonderful don in years to come.” I don’t know if my father truly believes that, but no one could doubt the sincerity on his face.
“Come on. Let’s not keep the boss waiting.” I jerk my head to one side, casting one last glance at Natalia before we leave the room.
“I hear Frank did well last weekend,” Mateo says, keeping his head low as we walk the hallway toward Angelo’s study.
“So it seems.” Pride laces through my words. Frank was initiated at thirteen, like we all were, and he has gradually been learning the ropes. His capo assigned him to his first serious mission last weekend, on a crew supervising a large drug shipment from Las Vegas. There was an attempted hijack, and it turned violent, but Frank kept his cool, and we didn’t lose a single man or the cargo.
“He is calm under pressure,” Mateo remarks as we round the corner. “That is a good trait to have in our line of work.”
I nod, knowing my brother is more controlled than either of us. “All he has wanted, his whole life, is to be asoldatolike me and Pops.”
Mateo stops outside his father’s study, lifting his head to look at me. There’s a raw vulnerability in his expression I don’t think I have ever seen. “I couldn’t imagine doing what I have to do without you, Leo. You’re my brother in every way that counts.” In an unexpected move, he yanks me into a hug.
I hold him firmly, patting his back, choking back emotion. Mateo and I don’t do this. We know what we mean to one another so it never needs to be said.
My best friend is in pain. Suffocating under agonizing grief, and he’s cracked wide-open—bleeding and exposed—and I make a silent vow to be there for both Mazzone siblings. “I love you, man, and I’m here for you. Whatever you need. You and Natalia. It’s yours.”
“Do you think it’s true?” he asks, breaking our hug. “What Papa said about me not being his only option?”
I don’t want to hurt my friend, but I don’t want to lie to him either. “I don’t think your father would lie about that purely to back you into a corner. But if it’s true, why has no one heard anything?” Illegitimate heirs are usually heavily guarded and widely known, unless Angelo has kept his other son—or sons—hidden away for a reason.
