Page 87 of Roman

“What about children?”

I shrugged. “If Effie wants them, I am fine with the idea.”

He shook his head. “You are unbelievable.”

“She is in this situation because of me. I have no choice because I cannot allow them to touch her. I will marry her.”

Luca sat down, looking sorrowful. I waved my hand. “Stop. Effie is lovely. You will meet her and like her. I think Justine will as well.”

“I want to meet her. Welcome her to the family.”

“Fine. I need to speak to her today. Let her know what is happening.”

“What if she refuses?”

I blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“What if she says no? You can’t force her, Roman.”

“I won’t have to force her. She will agree.”

“When will you tell Nonna? News will travel, and although Nonna is out of this life, she might hear it, regardless.”

“This afternoon, on our way to have dinner with you. Once the ring is on Effie’s finger.”

He shook his head, saying nothing for a moment.

“So you came all this way to confirm I’m getting married?” I asked suspiciously.

He stood and went to the window, looking down at the gaming floor. Even at this early hour, people were at machines, spending money.

He spun on his heel. “Justine is pregnant.”

A real smile broke out on my face. “Congratulations, brother. Nonna will be so pleased. As am I.”

He nodded, rubbing his lip. “Justine wants to move closer to her family in Ottawa. She misses her mother especially. And her cousins and friends.”

“Understandable. But that would be a lot of traveling for you.”

He stood straighter. “I was thinking I could run your casino there. Oversee the final plans, take some things off your plate.”

I blinked. “And your place in the organization?” I asked, dreading the answer. I didn’t want to step up. I didn’t want to take a more active role.

“I would leave it.”

“What?”I choked out.

“Neither of us wants it, Roman. You have made millions with your legitimate dealings. Together, we can make millions more. Leave the other behind.”

For a minute, I was silent. “Is that done, Luca?”

He laughed. “Things have changed, Roman. We’re free to walk away. We make the rules now. The Irish want our piece badly. I’m inclined to let them have it.”

“The Irish?” I repeated.

“Our great-grandmother was Irish. Nonna and Mom carry that blood. So do we. You, especially. We have never had trouble with them. They would step in and run it well, I think.”

“And you’d just walk away?”