Dominic (Made Men 8)

If he heard another one of those grown men tell her how grown up she had gotten, he was going to shove their wagging tongues down their throats until they were shitting them out for the next week, like her father, Dante, should be doing. The Caruso boss was likely already deciding who his princess would marry out of his men, and he was probably sitting in this very room.

It was her height that gave the men the audacity to think it was okay to look at a young girl that way. Dominic didn’t know how old the girl was, but she had to be somewhere around Angel and Matthias’s age and was almost as tall as them too.

Strangely, Dominic felt something for the girl, as well, but it wasn’t in the way the rest of the men did. What he felt, when watching the gross men look at her, was similar to the thought of his father hurting Kat. He couldn’t place that feeling at first until he thought about how happy he was that Lucifer didn’t claim his sister as his own, and she would never be subjected to this. He realized his feelings for the girl were protective in nature.

“Dante,” Lucifer greeted him with a nod. “My son and I are sorry for your loss.”

Dominic only briefly nodded to the grieving boss before his eyes went to the girl. As if she wasn’t pretty enough from far away, she was more beautiful the closer he stood; her hair that looked as though it was spun from gold, complemented her emerald eyes that would give the real stone a run for its money.

“Thank you.” Dante clearly had to force the words out but somehow managed to fake it before he politely introduced his daughter. “This is my daughter, Maria.”

That name not only suited an angel, but it was fit for an Italian princess.

Now you want to keep her away from creepy old men? he shouted in his head, seeing the sudden death grip Dante had on his daughter’s shoulders. Dominic didn’t blame him from wanting to keep Lucifer away from her, but his father would rather drink acid than want a woman, or girl for that matter, who had the Caruso last name.

“It’s nice to meet you, Maria.” Lucifer kept up the charade.

Dom had to give her credit. Most kids, and even adults, cried at the sight of his father, but she managed to look the devil right in the eyes.

“This is my son, Dominic,” he continued, introducing one boss’s child to the other.

When her emerald eyes landed on him, he became transfixed at the sight. It was like they had their own light source behind them, reminding him of the stained glass windows around them as the sun shined through the painted green.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” Her voice came out just as angelic as her features.

Wanting to get to the others waiting to greet them, Dante moved them along. “Well, thank you for coming to pay your respects, Luciano.”

It wasn’t because they were in a church that Dante didn’t call Lucifer by his first name. Neither the Caruso boss, nor his men, called him by it, only ever calling the devil by his surname. No one knew why they refused to call him by his given name, but it certainly wasn’t done out of respect. Nevertheless, it was still Lucifer’s day, and nothing was going to ruin his mood as a slow, sinister smile touched his lips.

“Anytime.”

Dominic’s hazel depths lingered on her precious stone ones a little longer. There was something strange and oddly familiar about her, but before he could figure it out, his father pushed him down the aisle.

Walking down the long aisle, passing the occupied pews, every step away from the Caruso princess was harder than the last; it felt like he was trudging through mud. He didn’t know why he felt like that. Maybe he wanted to go back and somehow get her out of being forced to greet the men who came in? Whatever it was, every instinct in his body tried to lure him back to her. It wasn’t until they reached the end of the aisle did the instinct ease.

It was catholic tradition for the children to wear white to funerals, so evil didn’t touch them, but when he saw the crisp white casket that held the boss’s late wife, Melissa Caruso, there was another reason. Maria didn’t belong in black, just like her mother who looked peacefully asleep in a light pink dress.

Even in death, Melissa was beautiful, but it didn’t compare to the large portrait of her set off to the side. Dominic couldn’t help but think what a pity it was to rid the world of something so pretty when such ugliness existed.

He touched his forehead, finishing the sign of the cross over his chest, waiting for a smug Lucifer to respectfully do the same. Of course the devil refused the blessing. Dominic had to look away from his sick father, who was rejoicing this sad day.