“It’s nothing, son,” his mother says softly. “Will you tell Camila I need some tea, please? We’re just fine. You know I’m prone to theatrics.”
Giorgio stares at Ilaria for a long moment, because it’s obvious she’s prone to no such thing.
“If you say so, Mama. Rosalia, it’s good to see you.”
We all wait until he leaves the room before Ilaria takes a deep breath.
“If I was you, I would also be burning everything to ash,” she says softly. “I know you don’t need my blessing, but you have it. My family will stay out of your way, and I’ll urge the others to do the same.”
“So I don’t need to have this awkward conversation with anyone else?” Rosa asks, wincing.
“No. They’ll be cruel and try to pull more information out of you than is needed. If I tell them to stay out of it, they will,” she says.
“Thank you. This will be messy enough as it is, I don’t want to fight over multiple fronts because of some misplaced loyalty someone has to my father.”
“Does this mean you’ll be the new leader of the Accetta’s?” Ilaria asks. “You’re so young…”
“You can’t rule over something that’s dead,” Rosa murmurs. “I don’t want to lead anything. The entire family is rotten, Donna Ilaria. You know better than anyone that rot spreads.”
“It does. So what will you rule?”
“My wife is a Domino now, as such she rules with me,” I say. “We are planning to put down roots in Savannah. I hope we’ll be welcomed.”
“Rosalia is a child of Savannah. I’m glad to see she won’t be uprooted from the only home she knows.”
While that’s not exactly an ideal agreement, she didn’t tell me to fuck off either. When Rosa stands, I move with her, my hand moving to her back. Surprisingly, Ilaria grabs her cane and pushes herself to her feet, her eyes on me.
“Nico, come closer.” The words don’t suggest I have the option to refuse, and so I walk closer to her, curious to see what she wants. “Your eyes are a very unusual color. Are you bonded to Rosalia?”
“I am. Though the marriage was arranged by her father and I, she is my scent match,” I explain, my fingers twitching nervously.
Telling her this could be a mistake. Ilaria could easily decide to put a bullet in my brain and let Rosalia die of a broken heart.
What is the old bag up to?
“Then the joke is on him,” Ilaria chuckles. “I won’t pry anymore. Go about your day, and know I’ll begin setting up lunch dates with some of the other matriarchs. Rosalia, I always thought Renzo would give his empire to you when he died. This city has always known you had the stones for it. Italian families are meant to be led by women. Men don’t have the intelligence for it. They rule by force, not the understanding that a woman’s ire will affect generations to come.”
“Thank you,” Rosalia says, taking my hand as we leave. Neither of us breathe until the sun is hitting our faces as we walk out the front door and down the stairs. “I really didn’t know which way that was going to go.”
“I think you did,” I chuckle, walking back toward our home. It’s a nice day, and there’s a breeze today. Soon, the coolerweather will settle in, and Rosalia won’t be able to wear the pretty sundresses she enjoys wearing without a coat. “The second she realized the severity of things, her attitude began to change. God, I hate the way people think. The traditions are so outdated.”
“If we have a daughter, how will that change?” She can’t hide with her hair out of her face and secured with a pin. Instead, I give her a safe place by raising my arm and tucking her into my body.
We’re married, I can give her comfort without the world thinking she’s weak for it.
“Ifwe have children, male or female, everything changes,mia cara moglie.They can go to college, be and do whatever they want, and most importantly, love whoever they want too,” I murmur as we walk. “We’ll break generational curses, and they’ll never need to worry about an arranged marriage.”
Most of all, they’ll never worry that one of us will try to kill them at any point in their lives.
“I’m not my parents,” she whispers.
“And I’m not mine. We can and will do much better, baby. I promise.”
* * *
One week later
ROSALIA
