Six years later, AIR “No!” shouted Amo, stamping his foot. He picked up his shoes and threw them across the room. He was already three years tall and could throw remarkably far for a small child.
“We won’t come out if you don’t put your shoes on,” I said, stifling a sigh.
He was loud, strong-willed, and short-tempered. He was a miniature version of Luke, black hair, gray eyes, with hints of Matthew’s temperament.
“Pick up your shoes and put them on.”
Amo shook his head, crossing his arms over his small chest. “No!”
“I love.” Luca’s voice was firm.
Amo’s gaze quickly shifted to Luca, who was standing in the doorway, and his eyes widened, but then he thrust out his chin . He was in his challenging phase. So far he had never been defiant toward Luca, though. “No,” he said.
Luca entered. “What did you say?”
Amo stared at the floor. “No.” Hesitation oscillated in his voice.
My eyes darted between Luca and Amo. I knew Amo would follow in Luca’s footsteps. One day he would become Chief . He would become a Made Man long before he reached the age of majority. He would have to be strong for the tasks ahead, hardened, and he would have to learn respect. Luca stopped in front of our son. He had never raised his hands against Amo or Marcella, had never hurt them in any other way, and never would, and they usually obeyed anyway.
Luca squatted down, his expression implacable. “Look at me,” he ordered, and Amo looked up at his father.
Luca pointed to his shoes. “You will pick them up and put them on. Do you understand, Amo?” His voice was authoritative and Amo nodded slowly, but his expression was still one of defiance as he trudged toward the shoes. Yet he lowered himself onto his butt and slipped them on.
Luca shook his head. I touched his arm. “The phase will pass, ” I assured him.
He smiled wryly. “He is too much like Matthew. I will need the patience of a saint.”
Amo became nervous when he failed to tie his shoes, and angry tears accumulated in his gray eyes. I could tell he wanted to throw his shoes again.
Luca walked over and got down on his knees, then showed Amo how to do it. Amo smiled when he was able to do it himself. “Remember, Amo, don’t cry when someone might see you. Not even out of anger or frustration,” Luke said softly but firmly. “It’s okay to cry when you’re alone with your mother or me.”
Amo nodded and blinked a few times. Luca stood up and held out his hand. “Let’s go see your uncle’s new bike.
It’s even faster than the last one.”
Amo took Luca’s hand and smiled at his father.
They looked so much alike, it filled my heart with absurd happiness. Luca was afraid of being too hard on a son, especially if he looked like him, but he had no reason to worry. He was strict with Amo but never cruel. He was nothing like his father.
LUCA After inspecting Matteo’s new bike, Amo left in a hurry, probably to annoy his sister.
“I’m starving,” Matteo said. “Why don’t we go inside and check if your little monsters have left us any leftovers?”
We walked back up the driveway and into the mansion. At six years old, Marcella looked remarkably like her mother, except for her black hair. She ran toward me the moment I entered, with Amo at my heels.
She hugged my waist, looking at me with a pout.
“Amo beat me!”
My eyes flew to my son. Amo cast a furious glance at his sister.
“She beat me first!”
“Because you took my doll and ripped her head off.”
I squinted my eyes at my son. “You never raise your hands against your sister, understand?”
He nodded reluctantly. I saw Marcella stick her tongue out at him and lift her chin with my finger. I was often too lenient with her, but it was hard to be stern when she looked at me with her mother’s eyes and face.
“And you won’t hit your brother again.”
She blushed. “Okay.”
I turned back to Amo, who looked triumphantly at her sister. “Why did you rip the doll’s head off?”
Her face contracted in disgust. “Marci made kissing noises and told me to kiss her.”
Matteo leaned in the doorway, giggling.
“Why don’t you torture your uncle?” I suggested.
Amo didn’t let me tell him twice, of course. With a battle cry, she launched herself at Matteo and clung to his leg like a spider monkey. Marcella was back there and began pulling on Matteo’s arm, trying to get him to kneel.
“Mercy,” he groaned and fell to the ground. I rolled my eyes at his theatrical performance, but my children loved it. Matthew began to tickle him and Amo scurried away, out of my reach and hiding behind me. I giggled and tousled his hair. He pressed himself against my leg. It seemed ridiculous that I had ever thought of being cruel to a son. I was tougher on him and had to harden him, but I would never hurt him the way our father had hurt Matteo and me.
Matteo grabbed Marcella and began to tickle her. “Help!” he called between giggles. Amo let go of me and launched herself back to Matteo to help his sister. My smile vanished the moment Amo extended his hand toward Matteo’s gun holstered at his waist.
“No,” I growled abruptly, and he immediately retracted his hand. Both Marcella and he looked at me with wide eyes.
Matteo cleared his throat and pointed to the holster. “You will never touch a gun without my or your father’s permission.” They both nodded but continued to glare at me. Sighing, I approached them and tousled their hair, happy when they relaxed, forgetting my brusque tone. “Why don’t you go find your mother?” With a nod and a smile, they hurried away. “I would never let him touch my gun,” Matteo assured me as I straightened up. “I know,” I said. Eventually, Amo would learn to handle guns and knives, but under our supervision and not at age three. My cell phone rang. I did not recognize the number. I brought the phone to my ear. “Yes?””Luca,” said a male voice. “It’s been a while. It’s Fabiano.” I almost dropped the fucking phone. “Fabiano Scuderi?” I signaled for Matteo to follow me outside and activated the speakerphone. “I’m calling on behalf of my boss.” Matteo’s eyebrows shot up. “Your Boss?” I repeated, still trying to process the news that it was Fabiano. “Remo Falcone. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.” A hint of amusement echoed in his voice. I had heard of him, all right. Since he had taken control of Las Vegas and much of the West, it was a nagging headache. “You contacted us to negotiate delivery routes for your drugs. I am your Enforcer and would like to come to New York to negotiate in Remo’s place.” Matteo shot me a look and mimicked Enforcer. It had been weeks since I had sent a message to Remo through an intermediary. The Outfit was intercepting our drug deliveries, and Remo’s territory was our best option for finding new delivery routes. I did not trust Remo at all, but drugs were our main business and I had to make decisions that would help the Family despite my personal feelings toward Remo. Since working with Dante was out of the question , that left only the fucking Camorra, even though I hated the ‘idea. “I did it,” I said cautiously. “We have a common enemy, Luca, and that is the Outfit. I think we have a lot to talk about.” I didn’t like his tone, but agreed to a meeting in three days, then hung up. “He’s not dead,” Matteo muttered. “Our wives will be overjoyed to see him again.” “He is the Executor of the Camorra, Matteo.” “So you won’t tell Aria?” I considered my options. If I had not told Aria that her brother had come to New York, she would have been heartbroken, but since he was Remo’s man, she too would have been heartbroken to see him . “How could we miss this?” I muttered. “We have enough to do with the fucking Outfit, the Bratva and those fucking MCs. It’s not like we had free time to worry about the fucking Camorra. They never infringed on our territory or caused us any problems.” I nodded, but still. If Remo had managed to keep Fabiano’s existence a secret for so long, it meant that his men were loyal to the core and that he had iron control of his city. I knew that Nino Falcone was his deputy, and they were the ones I had heard about, but they worked in silence. “What do you think is the real motivation for the visit?” asked Matteo finally. I wasn’t sure. Remo was unpredictable. His appearance in New York six years earlier had proved that. “We’ll find out.” Aria was practically bouncing nervously beside me. Growl shook his head, grimacing. Her eyes sought mine. Aria still thought she would join the brother she remembered, but it would not be that boy. Growl, Matthew, and I knew that. Growl had been the Camorra Executor for years, and from what he had told us, Fabiano must have turned into someone without mercy to become Remo’s Executor . I stiffened as the door opened and a tall, muscular man with short blond hair and blue eyes entered.
The last time I had seen him, he had had a hard time hiding his emotions. He had managed to get through that phase. His cold examination stiffened my muscles. Growl touched the gun, hatred written on his face as Fabiano’s eyes settled on him. Aria rushed forward and I was not fast enough to stop her . Fabiano squinted his eyes and stiffened when she threw her arms around his neck.
I drew my gun, pointing it straight at his head, and so did Growl and Matteo. His hand tightened around Aria’s neck as she clung to him, and he smiled. I should have killed him seven years earlier, when he was still a boy. He held her neck in a way that would have allowed him to break it easily. Aria looked up and finally the realization dawned on her. This was no longer her brother. “No need for drawn weapons,” Fabiano said in a drawling, confident tone. “I didn’t come all this way to hurt my sister.” He lowered his hand and I stepped forward and pulled Aria away from him. “My God,” he whispered. “What happened to you?” “You, Gianna and Liliana happened.” Aria was close to tears beside me. “I don’t understand.” “After Liliana ran away too, Dad decided that something was wrong with all of us. That maybe the problem was Mom’s blood running through our veins. He thought I was another mistake going on. He tried to get the problem out of me. Maybe she thought that if I bled often enough, I would get rid of any trace of that weakness. The moment his second-wife prostitute gave birth to a boy, he decided I was no longer useful. He ordered one of his men to kill me. The ‘man took pity on me and took me to some shithole in Kansas City so the Bratva could kill me instead. I had twenty dollars and a knife. And I made good use of that knife.” I tightened my grip on Aria because she made a move as if to approach him. “We didn’t mean to hurt you. We just wanted to save Liliana from a horrible marriage. We didn’t think you needed saving. You were a boy. You were going to be an Outfit soldier. We would have saved you if you had asked.” “I saved myself.” “You still could have … left Las Vegas,” Aria said cautiously. I cast her a glance. Was she blind to the truth? Fabiano was a loyal man, but his loyalty was to Remo Falcone. I wondered how he had managed it. How had Remo, that perverse teenager from so many years before, managed to gain so many loyal followers? How had he succeeded in uniting all the Underbosses in the West? The Camorra was as strong as ever, and it was a fucking problem. Fabiano laughed. “Are you suggesting that I leave the Camorra and join the Family?” “That’s an option.” No, it wasn’t. And I wasn’t going to take him with me, not anymore.
Fabiano challenged me with his eyes. “Is she the Chief or are you? I came here to talk to the man running the show, but now I think it might be a woman after all.” Provocation was his tactic, as Remo’s had been in the past. “She is your sister.
She talks because I let her. Don’t worry, Fabi, if I had something to say to you, I would say it.” “We are not your enemies, Fabi,” Aria said.
We were. If it hadn’t been for Aria, I would have taken Fabiano out right then. “I am a member of the Camorra. You are my enemies. I have a message from Remo for you.” He met my gaze and his crooked smile made my blood boil. “You have nothing to offer Remo or the Camorra unless you send him your wife for a ride.” I launched myself at him, wanting to crush his fucking throat, but Aria stood in the way and I had to stop short or I’d run into her. “Calm down, Luca,” Aria begged, her eyes full of desperation. I trembled with suppressed rage as I cast a furious glance at Fabiano. One day I was going to kill him. Fabiano bowed mockingly. “I guess that’s it.” “Don’t you want to know how Lily and Gianna are doing?” asked Aria hopefully. The fact that she had not mentioned Marcella and Amo made me realize that despite her hopefulness, she knew her brother was a threat and not family.
“They mean nothing to me. The day you left for your pampered life in New York, you ceased to exist for me.” Fabiano turned and walked away, and I let him. I let him for Aria, and because I couldn’t risk a war with the Camorra at that moment. Matteo turned the knife around, as if he was going to go after Fabiano and cut his throat. Aria turned to me with eyes wide with shock. “What happened to him?””The Camorra,” Growl croaked. “And that fucking Remo Falcone. I only met him a few times, but even as a boy my half-brother was…” He shook his head. “I can’t find the right word.” “Yes,” Matteo said. Aria passed me and dropped onto the couch, turning her back to us . I signaled my brother and Growl to leave us alone. When they had left, I touched Aria’s shoulder. She looked at me, tears in her eyes. She leaned her cheek against my hand on her shoulder. Then she lifted a piece of paper. I frowned. “Fabiano put it in my pocket asking me for a meeting tonight.” He swallowed, “By myself.” “You’re not going.” He stood up and lifted his chin.
“I will go. I have to give him one last chance.” “Aria, he won’t take it. You know why he wants you alone.” He looked away. “You don’t. He is my brother. Maybe he needs to talk to me alone.” But I could see the doubt in her expression. “Let’s go home,” I said. “And tonight we will meet him together.” He nodded. When we entered our penthouse, pregnant Lily sat on the sofa with Amo and Marcella. Aria approached our children and hugged them tightly and kissed the top of their heads. Lily frowned, with a questioning look. I was not going to be the one to tell an incoming woman that her brother was a member of the Camorra, and Aria did not seem too eager to share that information . “Mom, I can do handstand!” said Marcella proudly. Amo nodded enthusiastically. “Then let’s see,” I encouraged her. Marcella stood up. “You have to get my feet, Dad.” “I will.” She reached up and then fell forward. With her momentum she would have fallen, but I caught her feet. Aria clapped her hands. I lifted Marcella off the ground by her legs and she began to giggle when I swung her back and forth.
Amo rushed toward me. “Me too!” I put Marcella down and grabbed Amo, letting him dangle upside down as well. Aria laughed, shaking her head. “Your head is turning red, Amo.” I lifted Amo higher so I could see his face, and he smiled broadly. “Higher!” I obeyed, but when his head got too red, I put him back down. “Now go wash your hands,” Aria said, and Marcella and Amo ran off toward the bathroom. “Can you look after them tonight, too?” I asked. Liliana looked between Aria and me. “Did something happen?” Aria shook her head. “No. Luca and I just need some time to ourselves.” “Okay,” Liliana said slowly. “Romero is picking me up in thirty minutes. Can we take Marcella and Amo home with us and bring them back tomorrow around lunchtime?””Thank you,” Aria said, hugging her sister. It was almost 2 a. m. when we got into the car and drove to the meeting point Fabiano had mentioned in his letter. Aria was silent beside me. I took her hand and she gave me a grateful smile. She seemed determined, not heartbroken as I had feared. She was fiddling with a bracelet on her left wrist. It was the first time I had seen it on her. She usually wore only the bracelet I had given her. I parked in a side street and turned toward Aria. She noticed my gaze on her wrist. “It was my mother’s. I want to give it to Fabiano.” “Aria, I know you think you can still appeal to his heart, but believe me when I say that as a Camorra Executor, he cannot afford a soft heart.” He turned a strange smile on me. “I am surrounded by men like him. They are my family. I’m married to one.” My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Or are you saying Fabiano has done worse than you?” I wasn’t sure what Fabiano had or hadn’t done, but I had committed just about every crime imaginable. There was only one difference between the Family and the Camorra, and that was the only crime I was not guilty of. “They don’t spare women, Aria.” He swallowed loudly. “I know. But I have to believe there is good in him.” He touched my chest, where the Family tattoo was. “I was able to get to you. Maybe I can get to him.” If anyone could do it, it was Aria. After all, she had won my heart. It had started snowing when we got out of the car. I drew my Beretta, listening for suspicious noises, but it was quiet except for the sound of traffic in the distance. Aria shivered, “Don’t kill him. Please.” I said nothing. It was not something I could promise. If he made a wrong move, I would kill him before he could hurt Aria. “Don’t mention Marcella or Amo,” I warned her. She scowled. “Luca, I love my brother, but I would walk through fire for my children and for you. I would never jeopardize their safety. We fought so hard to keep them secret from our enemies. I won’t put it on the line for Fabiano or anyone else.” I wasn’t sure how much longer we could keep them secret . They were growing. We had withdrawn from the public for them and I had threatened some journalists who thought they might write something about us. Nothing had become public. Dante had done the same, and without Horatio as a spy, I knew nothing about his children. I nodded to Aria and signaled for her to go on. I lifted the gun but stayed behind. I saw Fabiano as we turned the ‘corner. He was leaning against the wall, looking fucking relaxed. His eyes focused on Aria but he didn’t notice me. I aimed at his head. “Hello, Fabi,” Aria greeted him and showed him her letter. “You said you wanted to talk to me alone because you needed my help?” He approached with an expression on his face that I didn’t like a fucking bit. Aria let him get much closer than we had agreed. The hand with the gun still hung limply at his side, though.
His eyes turned to me and he smiled when he saw me.
“You’re finally being reasonable, Aria,” he said, and there was a flicker of something on his face that I couldn’t identify.
“I know a thing or two about mob life.” She tilted her head toward him. “Aren’t you worried about your life?”
“And why should I be?”
He sounded like a man who had faced death on many occasions and was not afraid of it. He had nothing to lose, and that made him a dangerous enemy.
Aria unfastened the bracelet and handed it to him. “It was my mother’s. She gave it to me just before she died. I want you to keep it.”
“Why?” he muttered, casting a furious glance at the bracelet, then at Aria.
“Because I want you to remember.”
“The family that abandoned me?”
“No, the boy you were and the man you can still become.”
Aria was too good for this world, even after years as my wife.
“Who says I want to remember?” He leaned toward Aria, his face too close to hers, and I took the safety off my Beretta.
Fabiano straightened up. “You want me to become a better man.
Why don’t you start with the man holding the gun to my head?”
Aria pushed the bracelet against his chest and he took it.
“Maybe one day you will find someone who will love you in spite of what you have become, and make you want to be better.” Finally he pulled away. “Goodbye, Fabiano.
Luca wants you to know that the next time you come to New York, you will pay with your life.”
I did not lower my gun as Aria walked toward me, but Fabiano made no gesture to follow me. He was staring at the bracelet. It reminded me of myself when I was younger, before Aria. Without her, I would be a different man today . Maybe I would have become like my father.
Aria came to my side and I put my arm around her before taking her away. I thought about sending someone to kill Fabiano, but then I gave up. War with the Camorra was the last thing I needed at that moment.
Aria remained silent on the ride home and had not yet said anything when we entered our penthouse early in the morning. I gave her the time she needed to face reality. When we finally settled into bed, Aria lying on her back and me on my side facing her, I broke the silence.
“Are you going to be all right? Don’t blame yourself. Fabiano made his choices, not you.”
I feared Aria would do something crazy for her brother again.
Her blue eyes were solemn. “I’m fine,” she said. “Yes, honestly. Fabiano is a grown man. He is the Executor of the Camorra. He is not the boy I knew. I can’t protect him anymore and it’s not my job. You, Marcella and Amo are my priority. You are the people I have to take care of.”
I could tell she meant it, but deep down she always hoped Fabiano would eventually become human again.
Maybe he would be right. She had softened my cruel heart; who was to say the same would not happen with Fabiano?
I stroked her cheek and her eyelids flickered. She looked tense and tired, yet fucking gorgeous.
“Turn around, princess,” I ordered, and she turned on her stomach without protest. I knelt beside her on the bed and ran my hands over her soft skin, massaging away the tension. She let out a soft sigh, her body sagged. My eyes slid down her spine to her perfect ass. I squeezed the round globes, then lightly bit the soft flesh before soothing the spot with my tongue. Aria trembled and moaned softly. I massaged her buttocks as I left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her spine.
I pushed her hair aside and lightly nibbled the crook of her neck as my fingers dipped into her folds, finding her dripping. She turned her head to the side, biting her lower lip, and I slowly penetrated her. She moaned, closing her eyes in pleasure. I watched her face as I touched her. She arched her ass in rhythm with my thrusts, pushing my fingers deeper.
When my cock was painfully hard, I moved my body over hers and slid the tip inside, savoring her heat for a moment before filling her completely. Her back arched against my chest. I lifted my elbows, caging her and began to thrust into her slowly at first, then faster and harder. I kissed her throat, then bit down, marking her, and her walls tightened on me as she cried out for release. I slowed my thrusts, waiting for her to catch her breath before picking up the pace again. We had the penthouse to ourselves tonight, so I wanted to make her scream as often as possible.
I slipped my hand under her body, rubbing her clit as I slammed her harder. Aria came again, shaking and panting, and when my release grabbed me, she was overwhelmed again and came a third time.
I remained on top of her, careful not to burden her with most of my weight as I kissed her neck and throat, then claimed her mouth for a kiss.
“You’re still marking me,” she said with a hint of amusement, rolling onto her back. “Do you really think there’s anyone out there who doesn’t know I’m yours?”
I stroked the slight bruise on her throat. “You’re mine,” I said quietly. “And it’s not them I’m remembering, it’s myself, because even after eleven years sometimes it still seems impossible that I have you, that I love you, and that you love me.”
Aria’s fingers slid down to my tattooed shoulder blade, her eyes warm and fierce. “I will go wherever you go, no matter how dark the path.”
I grabbed her wrist with the bracelet I had given her many years before and brought it to my lips, kissing it. “Even in the darkest hour, you are my light.”