Bound By Love (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 6)

Stunned silence. “You will make me Underboss.”

“Yes,” I said. The Underboss of Boston was about to retire and had only daughters, and it would piss off Dante to no end if I made his brother-in-law my Underboss. We discussed a few more details of his induction to the Famiglia before I hung up and sighed. “Fabiano disappeared.”

Matteo grimaced. “That boy was loyal. I doubt he defected from the Outfit.”

“Agreed.” That left only one conclusion. Scuderi had gotten rid of him. “Fuck.”

“We can’t tell our wives. They will lose their minds.”

“They won’t find out. They have no way of contacting their brother and no way to find out what happens in Chicago.”

Aria and I had agreed not to keep secrets from each other anymore, but it was a promise I couldn’t keep. Aria would blame herself if she found out her brother was dead. She’d be broken and never forgive herself. It was a secret I had to keep to protect her.

Matteo and I fell silent when Aria came down the stairs with Marcella on her arms, Gianna a few steps behind her. Marcella was wiggling wildly, thick black hair all over the place.

Aria laughed and put Marcella down on the ground. Eager blue eyes zeroed in on me and Marcella crawled toward me, her diaper-clad bum bobbing up and down. I bent forward and held out my palms. She crawled faster, making high-pitched giggling noises. The second she reached me I grabbed her and rose to my feet, propelling her up over my head like a rocket. She screeched happily and I swung her around toward Matteo’s outstretched arms, who threw her into the air and caught her again.

Aria laughed, a happy, relaxed sound. I couldn’t tell her about Fabiano. We had our own family now. Matteo blew a raspberry against Marcella’s belly and her giggling became even wilder. I’d have never thought that I could love anyone’s laughter as much as Aria’s, but Marcella’s brought me the same sense of fulfillment. I took Marcella again and held her up against my chest. Her small hand pressed against my mouth, and she grinned a huge, toothless smile as I kissed her palm.

Most of my life I’d thought there was no better sound than the screams of agony from my enemies. What a fucking fool I’d been.chapter 28Six years later, ARIA“No!” Amo screamed, stamping his foot. He picked up his shoes and threw them across the room. He was already tall for three and could throw remarkably far for a young child.

“We won’t go outside if you don’t put on shoes,” I said, stifling a sigh.

He was boisterous, strong-willed and hotheaded. He was a small version of Luca, black hair, gray eyes, with hints of Matteo’s temper.

“Pick up your shoes and put them on.”

Amo shook his head at me, crossing his arms over his small chest. “No!”

“Amo.” Luca’s voice was firm.

Amo’s gaze flitted toward Luca, who stood in the doorway, and his eyes widened but then he jutted his chin out. He was in his defiant phase. So far he’d never been defiant toward Luca though. “No,” he said.

Luca walked in. “What did you say?”

Amo glared at the floor. “No.” Hesitation swung in his voice.

My eyes darted between Luca and Amo. I knew Amo would follow in Luca’s footsteps. He would become Capo one day. He would become a Made Man long before he was of age. 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’d not once raised his hand against Amo or Marcella, never hurt them in any other way, and he would never do so, and usually they obeyed anyway.

Luca crouched down, expression unrelenting. “Look at me,” he ordered, and Amo raised his eyes to his father’s. Luca pointed at the shoes. “You will pick them up and you will put them on. Understood, Amo?” His voice held authority and Amo nodded slowly, but his expression was still defiant as he trudged toward the shoes. Yet he got down on his butt and slipped the shoes on.

Luca shook his head. I touched his arm. “The phase will pass,” I assured him.

He smiled wryly. “He is too much like Matteo. I will need the patience of a saint.”

Amo grew frustrated when he didn’t manage to bind his shoes, and angry tears gathered in his gray eyes. I could tell he wanted to throw his shoes again.

Luca walked over and got down on his haunches, then showed Amo how to do it. Amo smiled when he managed to do it himself. “Remember, Amo, no crying when someone could see you. Not even in anger or frustration,” Luca said quietly but firmly. “It’s okay to cry when you are alone with your mother or me.”