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Genevieve looks back toward the window, and I see red. Part of me wants to go out there and strangle her for what nearly happened to my son. But ninety days is enough time for all of us to breathe.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” Michael says. “And you need to take the time to think about how you want to move forward with the other thing, if you want to move forward at all. We both have quite a bit to think about.”

Gen doesn’t answer. She stands, smooths her skirt, and walks back into the house without looking at him, and he lets her go.

“Come,” Enzo says, “let’s give him a little privacy. Some things have happened over the last few days, and I want to tell you about them.”

Together, we leave the study and go out to the other side of the garden. Michael is still on the bench, alone. He offers a weak wave, and I return it.

“What is it?” I ask, Enzo at my side as we make our way around the grand stone fountain.

He takes a breath. “Half Luca’s territory is mine by right,” he says. “When families battle, that’s the old rule.”

“So take it,” I say. “That’s what you want, right? Growing and expanding?”

“No. It’s not what I want.”

He clears his throat. “We go legitimate. Let the elders buy the dirty half of the business, and move everything else into the clean half, slowly.”

“Why?” I ask. “I thought the messy parts were the whole point.”

“They were.” He takes my hand, and I melt a little the way I always do. “Then you and Matthew happened. And maybe more kids to come. When Matthew grows up, he won’t need to know anything about the old world. He’ll grow up soft in the right places and hard in the right ones. He just won’t grow up like me.”

“I like it,” I say. “I’m just scared it can’t be done.”

“It’ll be harder than I’m making it sound,” he says. “But it can be done. The killing stops being the business.”

Violence. In that moment, Pyke appears in my mind’s eye.

“What happened with Pyke’s family?” I ask. “I’m sure this is hard for you, but he died protecting us.”

His lips press into a hard line.

“I spoke to his wife, Denise,” he says. “One of the hardest things I’ve ever done. There’s a trust for her and the kids that holds even if something happens to me tomorrow. But money can’t replace a husband and a father. Sitting in her kitchen, I made the decision. I will never put you through what Denise is going through. Never.”

We walk a few more steps around the fountain.

Before either of us can say anything else, I hear the grumble of the front gate motor starting up.

“Expecting someone?”

“Not expecting,” he says, turning his attention in the direction of the noise. “But hoping.”

We round the west side of the house just in time to see a car, a sleek black thing, easing through the open gate and stopping at the foot of the walk.

I grin like crazy, knowing who it is.

Marta gets out first. She goes around the passenger side before any of the rest of the staff can approach, and I can hear her scolding the person inside. “No, wait. Sit. I said wait.”

The door opens and Carmine gets out under his own power, and it’s about the most wonderful sight I’ve ever seen. He’s a little thinner and grayer, but the way he’s absolutely refusing to be helped puts a big, happy smile on my face.

Marta gives up trying to help him, and he straightens himself tall and turns toward the stairs with an expression of grim determination.

“Getting out of the car is one thing, you stubborn old mule,” Marta says, “but if you think I’m letting you walk up those stairs by yourself…”

“Look at him,” Enzo says. “He’s going to try the stairs himself.”

“You think he can do it?” I ask.