24

Chapter 24
Dominic
It’s hard to enjoy my meal when I feel this sick and disgusted. Does Lorenzo really see me as such a threat that he’d be willing to work with another capo to get rid of me? His message history is proof enough.
I need him gone. Before he suspects anything. Working on it.
We had eyes on him at Nobu. His woman got in the way. How did you fuck this up?
Gun them both down. How hard is that?
His right hand tipped him off. Need him out of the picture. Then do it.
Another hit? That’s going to cost you. Name your price.
Your gambling den on Main.
You greedy fucker. Fine. Just get it done.
The tips of my fingers are numb. My heart beats so loudly I can’t hear the conversation at the table. I’m vaguely aware that the ladies are all chattering away, but I can’t pick out the sounds, too lost in my own tunnel vision.
I might have stood a chance against Lorenzo alone, but two capos? I’m as good as dead. They have all the resources, the connections, the manpower and the firepower. I thought I could strategize my way out of this, but these messages are as incriminating as it gets.
If Lorenzo wants a bloodbath, I’ll give him a bloodbath. Nothing like plotting a coup over dinner with the family.
“Tell me, Arin,” mother says politely, “where did you grow up?”
“Here and there,” Arin replies vaguely. “My parents passed away when I was very young, so I lived with my Grannie Ruth. She traveled a lot, so I went wherever she went. Seattle for a little while, Omaha for a few years, and then finally to New York.”
“And where is she now?” “Passed on, I’m afraid.” “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Oh, it’s alright. She lived a good, long life. What about you?”
“Grew up in Sicily,” my mother says proudly. “Born and raised. Dominic, too, before we moved to New York with his father. Tomasso was born in the States.”
I shoot Arin a glance. I’ve told her next to nothing about my younger brother, yet she says, “I’m really sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like.”
Mother’s smile is tinted heavily with sadness. She reaches to her side to play with her granddaughter’s hair. “Having a child taken from you… It’s unthinkable.”
The mood becomes sullen, a heavy silence lingering over us at the dining table. Between worrying about my conniving capo, mourning the death of my brother, and fearing for Arin and Felicia’s safety, I’m officially checked out.
“I should probably get going,” Mother announces, dabbing her mouth with the corner of her napkin. “Thank you very much for dinner. I’ll have to have you three over for dinner at my home soon.”
Arin smiles. “That sounds wonderful. We look forward to it.”
I see my mother to the door. Before she leaves, she dips in close. “I’m not going to give you a hard time for keeping those two a secret from me—”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“—but I will give you shit about keeping them here with everything that’s going on.”
“I’ve already tried convincing her to leave.”
“Then try harder.” Mother pulls on her coat, still speaking in a hushed whisper. “You remember my winter home, don’t you?”
I nod. “We spent all of our Christmases there after Dad passed.”
“I can take them there,” she offers. “It’s off the grid, a good distance away from the city. Nobody knows about its location except you and me.”
I can’t argue with her reasoning. It’s becoming more and more apparent with every passing day that New York is about to become a battleground. The odds are stacked against me, and when shit finally hits the fan, I want Arin and Felicia as far away as possible.
“I promised she could stay with me.”
“This is one promise you’ll have to break. I know you’re a man of your
word, but honor means nothing once you’ve lost it all.” “I’ll talk to her again,” I insist.
My mother nods, pats me on the cheek. “Do it soon. Act before your enemies have a chance to react. That’s the only way to give yourself an advantage.” With her sage advice given, she leaves, giving poor Johnny a bitter huff before strutting away.
“I’m sorry, boss,” he apologizes. “I didn’t know who she was.”
I wave dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. She’s always been a force to be reckoned with.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you tonight, sir?” “You’re good, Johnny.”
“Have a good night, sir.”
I close the door and return to the dining room, only to find that Arin and Felicia have vacated their seats. The table’s been cleared of dirty dishes, the sound of running water coming from the kitchen. Arin’s pulled up a chair for Felicia to stand on, our little one diligently drying the dishes her mother’s rinsed clean.
Arin notices me out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t just stand there.
Come help us. You can re-dry everything Felicia dries.”
Taking orders doesn’t come naturally to me, but when it’s Arin, I can’t say that I mind. I roll up the sleeves of my shirt and take my place next to Felicia’s chair, picking up a clean kitchen cloth to polish whatever she’s failed to properly dry—which ends up being a lot. At least she’s trying her best.
“You’re being kind of quiet,” Arin mumbles as she washes her hands. I shrug, too lost in my own head. “Lots to think about.”
“What did Isabella say to you?”
“It’s nothing to worry about, dolcezza.”
Arin presses her lips into a thin line, clearly dissatisfied with my answer. She dries off her hands and picks Felicia up, irritation lingering on her face when she says, “Okay, sweetie. Time for bed. Let’s get those teeth brushed.”
Before Arin has the chance to walk away, Felicia breaks out into a whining fit. “Don’t wanna!”
“Sweetie, you need to get some rest.”
“No!” Felicia pouts, beginning to sob. She reaches out to me with her little hands, leaning so far over that I have no choice but to pick her up or Arin might drop her.
“Principessa,” I say firmly, but gently. “Your mother’s right. It’s time for bed.”
“Wanna keep playing…”
“We can keep playing in the morning,” I tell her gently. “All the games you want.”
Felicia sniffles. “O-kay.”
Arin smiles warmly. “Would you like Dom to tuck you in?”
Our little one nods, wiping her eyes dry as clumsily as she did the plates. I know there’s a million and one things that I have to take care of—forces to gather, traitorous capos to put in their place—but all I want right now is the chance to be with my daughter. I’ve never tucked a child into bed before, never had to tell a toddler a bedtime story or give them a kiss on the forehead good night. It’s somehow far more daunting a task than declaring war with the Mob that I once would have given my life for.
And yet I do it, hopefully with flying colors. When Felicia is fast asleep, my chest swells with the warm feeling of accomplishment and adoration. I would never describe myself as a soft man. Far from it. I’m all things cold and hard and unmoving. But little Felicia is helping me see that might not always be the case. Somewhere deep within my core, I can sense a shift, some unknown part of me unlocking.
It suddenly occurs to me that I don’t care what happens to me as long as Felicia and Arin get to live long, healthy, and happy lives. Lorenzo is a fool to come after me now that I’ve found something I love and cherish far more than the Family.
My own family.
Arin takes my hand and guides me out into the hall, shutting the door to Felicia’s bedroom. She peers up at me, those frosty grey eyes studying me so intently it’s like my own personal spotlight. She cups my face in her hands, so tender and sweet I feel like I don’t deserve the attention.
“What’s going on?” she whispers. “Tell me what’s bothering you. Don’t you dare say it’s nothing, either.”
I take her hands in my own and kiss the backs of her fingers. “Things are… getting complicated. I might be going to war sooner than I thought.”
“What can I do to help?”
“We’ve been over this, Arin. There’s nothing you can do.”
She licks her lips, her brows furrowed into something almost resembling determination. “I want to show you something,” she says, leading me toward
her room.
Arin leads me to her studio, which I can only describe as being an organized mess. Scraps of fabric lie on every available surface, beautiful sketches are pinned to the walls, and several outfits close to completion hang from their mannequins. She brings me over to inspect the four suits I ordered from her all those weeks ago, each one of them a wondrous display of her talent.
“What do you think?” she asks. “They’re perfect, Arin. Thank you.” “Feel the inside lining.”
I do as she asks and reach out, running my fingers along the inside of the suit jacket. It’s stiffer than I expected it to be, the texture hard against my fingertips. “What is it?” I ask, curious.
“Kevlar.”
I glance at her, surprised. “Are you serious?”
“Did you know you can buy Kevlar by the yard? It’s definitely on the pricier side, but since I have to put my launch on hold, I figure I could use the money you gave me to invest in better material.”
To say I’m stunned is an understatement. Arin casually walks forward, inspecting her work. “Now, it’s not thick enough to protect you from a bullet. You’d need an actual vest for that, which I can definitely make, but that’ll take time. And it probably won’t withstand a direct stab wound, though it’ll keep the knife from going too deep, as well as deflect any swipes coming your way.”
“You made this… for me?”
She nods. “I can’t stop thinking about it. You were hurt because you were trying to protect me.”
“I’d do it again, if I had to.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” she mumbles, her eyes suddenly glossy with the threat of tears. “I know who you are, and I know what you have to do, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying.”
I circle my arms around her and pull her into a tight hug, pressing light kisses to the top of her head. She doesn’t have to tell me she cares about me. Her actions speak louder than words.
“Thank you, Arin. They’re perfect.”
“Promise me you’ll wear them, okay? This is the only thing I can do for you.”
“That’s not true. You do so much for me, Arin. Having you here, raising our daughter… You’re my motivation to come out of this alive.”
“You better give them hell.” “I promise you, I will.”
She tilts her head up and brushes her lips against mine, the look she gives me full of hope and anguish. I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue over hers to savor her taste. Arin clings to me like a lifeline, moaning softly as hunger claims us at the same time. When she pulls away, there’s a dark glint in her eyes.
“Let’s play hide and seek,” she murmurs against my lips. “Will you count to sixty for me?”
I smirk. “What are you plotting?” “You’ll see. Start counting.”