Antichrist

I open the fridge, pour a glass of Merlot, and finally have the bravery to check my phone. The only thing worse than not having Niko yelling at me is having him silent.

I crack my neck while making my way into my bedroom. He’s coming, it’s just a matter of when. I scrub in the shower quickly, change into some silk pajamas, and then peek into Ares’s room to check on him. His little LED solar light illuminates fake stars and galaxies across his walls and ceiling, and gentle ambient music plays from his diffuser in the corner of the room.

I sigh, resting against the wall while clutching my wine to my chest. It’s moments like this where I realize I’m probably not going to be a good fit to take over after my father. I care too much. I have too much humanity to give to people, and aside from that, I have a child who is the sole reason I would die. If someone held a gun to my head, I would choose him, and I’m well aware of the sacrifices I will need to make as a Mafia boss, especially one of Papa’s caliber. People would already see me as a weakness for being a woman, let alone a mother.

The front door opens and closes, and I hear Preacher’s loafers tap across the marble floor.

“You left straight away?” I ask, placing my empty wineglass onto the coffee table once I make my way back down.

I watch as his fingers wrap around his red tie and he pulls at it gently, removing it from his shirt. He doesn’t say a word, and I know he’s had much to drink tonight, but Preacher has been nothing but soft with my son and me.

Not long after Niko walked out on me in this very building did I find out I was pregnant. Preacher and I hadn’t had sex when I found out, so I knew it could have only been Niko’s, since the dates didn’t add up for when I last had sex with Luca. Any doubts would have been squashed the day I gave birth to Ares. Niko’s genes are too strong. Dark, thick hair, soft golden skin, and moody gray eyes. He’s every single bit his father’s son. I tried calling Niko when I found out, but his phone was disconnected. From that moment, I realized I couldn’t do anything else and I wouldn’t. If he found out years later down the road, then he found out years later down the road. I shouldn’t have had to chase him.

That’s my argument anyway. Whether it works or not after tonight is a different story.

“Did you know Nikolai was going to be there?”

And just like that, my stomach drops to the floor. I suspected it because I felt his presence, I always do, but hearing it confirmed just drilled the final hole. He was coming.

I swallow past the ache in my throat. “I did not.”

Preacher comes closer to me, his finger grazing the side of my cheek. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he forces a smile onto his lips.

“Are you lying to me?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Then why?” His eyes narrow slightly, but not in a way that makes me fear him. I never will. I don’t know if that makes me stupid or blind. “Why would your father have him there?”

He’s right, and that’s a question I’ve found myself asking since I felt him. No one could have got through our security—even Niko fucking Davis, the Ghost of fucking New York. I need to have words with Papa Dearest.

“I don’t know.” I lean into his palm, closing my eyes.

“Is Jessica asleep?”

My eyes open up to his. “Yes.”

“And your child?”

The words do exactly as they do every time he says them—they stab me right in the heart. I’ve been patient with Preacher because he has been patient with me. The marriage was a deal, it was arranged, and he has never once given me a reason to fear him. I know bad men—I dated one most of my life and chased the other at the same time. Preacher is not one. He is good, kind, but he is also human, and we can’t expect every human to react to something in a way that we would like them to. Ares has always been a hard pill for Preacher to swallow, but I had promised to give him a year to warm up to him, and if he didn’t or if I felt he was going to continue to neglect my child, I would need to do something about it. I also know that more is at stake here than my feelings, Ares, or even my father.

There is the peace that has worked since the contract was made.

“He’s asleep,” I say blankly.