When Villains Rise (Anti-Heroes in Love 2)

I looked from them on one side to my blood family on the other and had a strange moment of disconnect as the two worlds merged.

“Mama, Sebastian, Beau? These are Dante’s men, Adriano, Chen, Jacopo, and Frankie,” I introduced, feeling suddenly shy and a little anxious.

The new and old world Elenas were meeting and I had a feeling it could be seamless or as disastrous as the Big Bang.

Yearning rammed into my chest, stealing my breath.

If Dante had been there, he would have smoothed over introductions perfectly with his charm and warmth.

Mama eyed the men wearily as did Sebastian. They were used to the mafiosos of Napoli, the ruthless, selfish Made Men who would beat you up just to steal a nickel.

These men were nothing like that.

I moved to the group of males and stood between Frankie and Adriano, sliding an arm around both of them. Frankie was used to physical affection from me after playing my fake partner so many times, but Addie looked shocked then more than a little pleased.

It was a bold move, maybe, one that obviously surprised Mama and Beau by the wide-eyed looks on their faces, but I was glad I did it as soon as Chen and Jaco crowded into my back. We formed a little unit standing there in the hall and I knew that even though Dante was there to force them to protect me, to encourage them to care for me, they already did.

“Hey,” Sebastian said, stepping forward first to offer his hand to Chen. “I’m Elena’s brother, Seb.”

“I know,” Chen admitted. “I’m actually a big fan.”

“What?” I choked off my laughter. “Seriously?”

I would have expected it from Marco maybe, who knew enough about pop culture to write a book, but it shocked me that stern and serious Chen who was all numbers and efficiency enjoyed my brother’s dramatic movies.

Chen shot me a cool look. “What? I can’t have good taste?”

Sebastian laughed, clapping the other man on the back in comradery. “You certainly can. Now, tell me your favorite movie.”

The ice broke under the weight the exchange, the other mafiosos chuckling at Chen as he easily launched into a discussion with my brother, who loved nothing more than to talk about his work.

“Come meet everyone, Mama.” I called to her then, when she hesitated, I went to take her hand and led her back to my friends. “This is my Mama, Caprice.”

Frankie stepped forward to take her hand and raised it to his lips. “Sei troppo giovane per essere una madre.”

You are too young to be a mother.

I rolled my eyes at his outrageous flattery, but Mama laughed and insisted he should call her Mama instead of Caprice.

Beau appeared at my side and struck up a conversation with Addie and Jaco about the Yankees that devolved into passionate debate how their season was going in a matter of seconds.

Within twenty minutes, everyone was talking over each other like they’d known each other for years. I sat on a stool at the island watching Mama roll out pasta dough for the traditional Christmas timballo she made every year with Beau beside her dicing tomatoes and Addie on the other side of him slicing aubergine.

“It seems you’re throwing a party.”

Everyone looked up at Salvatore came in from the elevator holding Aurora’s hand, Bambi following up the rear with bags of her own groceries.

The air in the room went electric the moment Mama caught eyes with Tore.

“Is anyone invited?” he asked in a voice that was carrying, but gentle.

I could read the eager hope in his face from all the way across the room.

Even the people who didn’t know the history between Mama and Tore looked between them, following the lines of tensions written clearly in the air.

At first, it seemed Mama was going to turn him away on Christmas Eve, but then she looked at me and her gaze was filled with fear.

It startled me a bit, to think that my fifty-year-old mother could still be scared of her emotions. Of a man who so clearly adored her.

Obviously though, I understood.

“Coraggio, Mama,” I said under my breath, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze even though it was covered in semolina flour. “Coraggio.”

“Va bene,” she called after taking a deep breath. “Come in Salvatore and introduce me to the bella principessa on your arm.”

“That’s me!” Aurora cried, putting her hand in the air. “I’m Rora.”

“A strong name for a strong girl,” Mama said, knowing just what to say.

Rora let go of Tore’s hand having forgotten him completely, and made her way into the kitchen. She shocked me stopping at my side and hauling herself into my lap. I helped her settle there, a little dazed by her easy intimacy, more than a little moved by it.

“I’m six,” she told Mama, leaning forward to put her elbows on the counter and her face in her hands.