If they benefit us, they live.
That’s how simple the rules are when the people we’re interacting with are outside the Cosa Nostra.
“Then don’t play them,” Papa says simply. “But that will be hard for someone who is such a strategic, honest player. You’re smart, Dante. You know the rules exist for a reason. They keep us alive and our family intact. But you’re underestimating the power of the queen. She’s not the pawn. She is the strongest piece on the board.”
“That’s not how the rules we live by make it seem.”
“Because you assume they were implemented solely to suppress women’s rights, but that isn’t all they’re about.” I scoff, but he continues, proving he has more patience than I do. “They’re also to protect them.” He angles his torso to face me and tilts his head. “Imagine how many wives and children would be lured into unthinkable situations if the rules you’re fighting against didn’t exist? They’d never know if the person they’re being wooed by was targeting them because they’d bonded, or because of an underlining plot to destroy their current relationship and everything it was built on.” I don’t like what he says, but parts of it make sense. “We’re working to change the rules so women will be free to leave. But…” I could kill him for the delay. “Until that occurs, we must adhere to the rules.”
“It could be too late for Lucia then.” My twitching jaw hardens my reply. “Edoardo isn’t who she wants, but because he’s part of the Cosa Nostra, she has no say. That’s bullshit.” When the floodgates are open, I can’t stop the truth from falling from my lips. “I can’t lose her.”
This isn’t solely about what I crave. It’s also about what’s best for Camille.
It wasn’t easy stepping into fatherhood four years in, and whenAnna left without a trace for the second time, it became even harder. Camille blamed me for her mother’s disappearance, and I’ve been fighting against the tide ever since.
The current became less turbulent when Lucia entered our lives. Instead of being pushed aside, I’m included. Not as much as I’d like, but compared to the crumbs of attention I was receiving, her acceptance of my place in her life has grown tenfold.
“Then don’t,” Papa murmurs, returning my focus. “You can keep her in your life.” His following words maim me more than they anger me. “But it must portray an employer–employee arrangement.”
I scoff, hating the idea of being within touching distance of Lucia but keeping my hands to myself. That isn’t a battle I can win.
My father laughs. “You’re giving Edoardo too much credit, Son. You’re treating him as if he is a man of his word. We both know he isn’t. If he’s lying, which I highly suspect he is, the truth will come out and he will pay for his lie. But…” Another fucking delay. This one is filled with more anguish than anarchy. “We need time to make sure we’re not starting another mafia war. We don’t want to face the challenges of our ancestors, much less instigate them.”
My chest tightens as the truth tumbles around me. Just knowing he’s doubtful of Edoardo’s claim of matrimony cools my blood, not to mention remembering how much my father lost when greed destroyed centuries of alliances.
I may not like the rules we have now, but I’d rather them than be governed by the man who almost destroyed our dynasty.
I adjust the collar of my shirt before breathing out heavily. “I understand.”
“Good.” He drifts his eyes to the exit. “Then do what you must. Work day and night if you have to. Find the truth and protect them both.” His eyes glint with fondness during his last words. He loves Camille as much as he will love Giovanni’s soon-to-be-born son. He doesn’t look at her with the same tainted glasses as some of our competitors.
The remembrance makes my fight thatmuch easier.
As I stand, resolve hardens in my bones. “I won’t stop,” I pledge. “Not until I knoweverything.”
As I prepare to leave, Giovanni appears in the doorway, arms crossed and a rare uneasy smirk tugging at his mouth. “Then I guess it’s lucky you now have a nanny at your daughter’s beck and call.” He nudges his head toward the study I left only minutes ago. “Can we talk?”
Nodding, I bid farewell to our father by brushing my lips against his temple, then join Giovanni outside the sunroom.
I arch a brow at his unusual silence as his slow steps guide us toward the main entrance, where a fleet of foot soldiers are always primed for war. “Did you find something?”
“Not really a something. More a someone.”
For the umpteenth time today, the tension in my chest coils tightly enough to fracture my ribs when he jerks his chin to our left.
When I follow the direction of his narrowed gaze, the rug is pulled out from beneath me.
“Anna?”
