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“Why do you have such a hard time looking at Nevio but have no trouble holding Greta?”
“Because with her I can overlook the similarities, but with Nevio …” Samuel shook his head, lowering his gaze to my boy who was happily chewing on his own fingers. “With him all I can see is Remo fucking Falcone.”
“Shh,” I shushed him. I stroked Nevio’s head but he was oblivious to what was being said. One day he would understand, though. One day he would realize what the looks he got meant.
“You’ll never be free of him because of them, Fina. Maybe without those kids people would have eventually forgotten what happened and moved on, but they are living breathing reminders. Once people find out they are Falcone’s kids, and trust me everyone will know they are his, things will get really ugly.”
I rocked Nevio and his eyes began drooping. “If anyone tries to hurt my children by making them feel less than, they’ll have to go through me.”
Samuel smiled sadly. “I’ll be at your side. I’ll always protect you.”
Me. Not my kids. Never them.
Falcone. Falcone.
One look.
Falcone.
The same cruel eyes.
Pitch black.
Falcones through and through.
Shame. Sin. Dishonor. Bastards.
Why did she ruin herself by having his children? Why didn’t she get rid of them?
Falcones.
So far the words were only whispered in the Outfit, but soon they would be screamed because every day my children looked more like Remo, like Falcones. In a week my twins would be seven months old, and I hadn’t even left the house with them yet. The only fresh air they got was when I was in the garden with them. The midwife and doctors had made home visits. Despite these precautions word about them was spreading among our circles. Maybe the maids let something slip. Maybe it was one of the bodyguards or maybe one of the Underbosses trusted his gossipy wife too much.
I’d attended two events with Samuel, and the whispers had followed me everywhere. The pity and curiosity. The incomprehension and even anger that I had chosen these children and not disposed of them, as if that would erase the kidnapping.
When we arrived home after one of these social gatherings, the birthday party of Dad’s second-in-command, I lost it right in the middle of the lobby.
“I can’t stand it,” I said harshly. “Can’t stand how everyone whispers their names as if they are something sinful. I don’t want them to grow up ashamed of who they are.”
Mom who’d stayed with the kids because she didn’t feel well enough to attend an event appeared on the landing, looking concerned at my outburst.
Dad sighed, his expression reflecting pain. “Everyone knows what happened. Everyone knows what they are and that won’t ever change.”
“What they are …” I stared at my father.
Samuel touched my shoulder, but I shook him off.
“They are mine! They are your blood too. They are part of the Outfit! When will you accept that? Will it take Nevio taking the oath for you to come to terms with it?”
Dad and Samuel exchanged a look, and I took a step back. “He’ll become part of the Outfit, right? He’ll become Underboss of a city one day? It’s his birthright.”
His birthright is to become Capo of the Camorra.
Dad gave me a sad smile. “Dove,” he murmured.
“No,” I whispered. “Don’t tell me you won’t let Nevio amount to anything because of who his father is.”
Samuel gave me a look as if I was being unreasonable. “Fina, he looks like a fucking Falcone. They are all fucking insane. Remo’s twisted blood runs through his veins. And just look at him. He’s already got an impossible temper at only seven months.”
“Our soldiers will never accept him, not after what his father did. We’ve still barely recovered from the attack. Every wedding is heavily guarded, every woman protected by twice the number of guards. That shame lingers and your children are a constant reminder of it,” Dad said quietly.
I turned around and left them standing there. Rushing past Mom without a word, I stormed into the nursery and closed the door, breathing harshly.
Nevio and Greta were asleep in the crib they shared, both sprawled out on their backs. Greta’s hand rested on Nevio’s chest. They always ended up touching when they slept.
My children weren’t something shameful.
I wouldn’t allow anyone to make them feel that way. Not even the family I loved.
REMO
Kiara was in full-blown Christmas mode. She’d decorated every area of the house she was allowed into. I knew she would have loved to wield her magic in my wing as well, but she wasn’t that daring yet. Good for her, because I was in a fucking foul mood, had been for days, and today was the worst of all.
The scent of freshly baked cookies wafted through the house as I read the email from Rick, the organizer of our races. Everything had been set up for the biggest race we’d ever held. Nino wasn’t happy I decided to end it in Kansas City after the last incident, but I wanted to make a fucking point. The Outfit had been surprisingly careful in their attacks. An ambush here and there, a few dismembered soldiers, but nothing major. Until three days ago when they killed my fucking Underboss in Kansas City. A warning not to get so close to their territory. Maybe the beginning of more. Ending the race anywhere else would have sent the wrong message.
