AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Alec speaks up, “Antonio, my brother knows the value of time. We’re not starting from scratch; we’re building on a foundation our father laid meticulously.”
But Marcello Russo, brash and insubordinate, can’t resist challenging, “Building on foundations is for architects, not Capos. What’s your plan, Xander, besides pretty words?”
My patience wanes, “Marcello, loyalty is earned, not demanded. If you question your place, perhaps you need to reassess your loyalty.”
Declan, always the voice of reason, attempts to diffuse, “Enough, Marcello. The Capo has spoken. We move forward as one.”
Giovanni, not easily deterred, adds, “Actions speak louder than words, Xander. We need to see what you’re made of.”
With calculated calm, I lean back, “Then watch closely, Giovanni.”
The meeting ends soon and as is tradition, I lead the men back to the house to give their final respects to Mother. The house is already crowded with the men who work for us. Sandro is by the door, a cigar stuck to the corner of his lips.
I ignore him, heading straight to Mother with my brothers. Sedric is off by the side, speaking to his son.
I head towards them, but movement by the stairs catches my attention, and I lift my head to look, the air freezing in my icy lungs. What the fuck is going on here?
29
MEL
If looks could kill, I’d be a melted puddle dripping down the stairs to the pool by his feet. Xander stills just for a second by the bottom of the stairs, and I keep my eyes on him, reading the look of anger just as he wishes me to.
There’s a reason he’d left me in Cabo. There’s a reason I’d heard about his Father’s death from my own father. That reason is staring me in the face right now.
I curl my fingers around the rails as I slowly head down the stairs, the sudden quiet in the room very loud.
Xander heads towards Father as he’s about to before clocking me on the stairs, a strained smile on his face that slams my heart into my chest.
I head towards him slowly, hoping for some sort of reaction from him, praying he doesn’t snap at me for wanting to help. Hoping he isn’t so hurt he’s already shut down.
The room is filled with the men of the Famiglia, a few whom I’ve seen before, most whom I’ve never before seen, but all of them are staring at him, waiting for his reaction. He’s, after all, the new Capo by virtue of his Father’s death.
“My condolences, Xander. We came over here as soon as we could.” Father pats Xander’s shoulders awkwardly before smiling at me as I arrive at the circle. I stand beside Knox, who is dry-eyed, his lips twisted in a sour smile.
“I wasn’t expecting you.” He whispers, shifting closer. I turn towards him and loop my arms around his back, hugging him tight, my eyes on Xander, who twitches imperceptibly but doesn’t give me his attention.
“Father called. I’m so sorry about this, Knox.”
He hugs me back and nods against my cheeks. “Of course he did. I’m sorry, too. But we were expecting it.”
I bite my lip, my eyes watering slightly. Expecting it or not, it didn’t make it any easier to know I’d never see him again. He hadn’t been a smiley man, but he’d been good to me. He’s protected me when I needed protection, too.
Knox pulls away, and I give Declan a hug, too, who stands stiffly in my embrace before smiling just as stiffly. Alec hugs me tighter but pulls away just as fast. I wipe at my eyes as their Mother makes it to us, a single line of tears tracking its way down her cheeks.
Xander shifts to make space for her in the circle, but when I step towards him, he stiffens and steps back. I stop, undecided about what to say or do.
He’s obviously avoiding me right now. I stop beside him anyway and go to hug him, but he gives me a sharp shake of his head.
Father notices the action and raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say a word. He turns and whispers something to Daniel, who looks at Xander but doesn’t say a word to either of us. Declan curves his arms around his mother, and she bends her head into the crook of his shoulder.
I take a step closer to Xander and settle beside him, throwing a look around the room. His men have created what constitutes a line, and I know, according to tradition, that soon those men will want to speak to him and will want to give their condolences to the family.
Very soon, he will have to go away. Without saying a word to me. I won’t let him. I’m not a line on a contract; I’m his fiancée, soon to be his wife. The mother of his son. Of his children.
“How are you holding up?” I lean into him, slanting my head and lowering my voice so the words are only for him.
His face tightens, but he doesn’t reply; instead, his fingers lock around my waist, and he tugs me closer. His fingers sink into the fabric of my dress and press into my flesh. I lift my face to his to catch him watching me, his eyes cool. “Where’s Lucian?”
