Ezio’s face lit up. “They just bought it!”
“What?” Brenno and I said in unison.
“Yeah, it’ssocool and it’s on the beach.” The boy squealed.
Brenno snatched the contract back from my hands and I expected him to rip it up, but he instead took the pen from Ezio’s hand and used the door to scribble two signatures. He turned, handing it back to me with the pen, and I signed this ‘official’ document on my knee, a lump forming in my throat as I saw that Brenno had signed on Cesare’s behalf.
The room fell into silence, but it did not feel sharp or abrasive. This one felt free, like we had allowed the truth to live, like we had felt something for one another again, like we had opened the doorway to something new. It would take time for us to trust one another again, but at least we could start and our wives could begin to work through the broken trust there too.
I cleared my throat, gaining Brenno’s attention. “I am comfortable if you would like to assume the Lucca name. I am certain that Sicily would not mind sharing, and I am aware that this does not erase your time as a Fera, but if you wish, you may do that… If there is anything else you want from me, I can try to fulfill this for you.”
Brenno stared at me, unblinking, but then shook his head. “I told Fiorella I wouldn’t mind if she didn’t take my name at all, but she laughed at me, told me that it was my name, notStefano’s, so I’ll keep it. She fell in love with me as a Fera, so it’s hers.” He sighed deeply. “I don’t want anything from you, Milan, I don’t know if I ever did, not really. Just allow my girl to see yours; that’s all I ask. It would make her happy… And for me to see you.”
My brother had grown soft, and he had learned what it meant to love a Bianchi. I was happy for him, forthem, and I hoped that, one day, Sicily would be too.
There was nothing more powerful for a Capo to have than a woman like them and his family, and it seemed Brenno and I were on our way to having both.
The house wassilent inside when we finally left the confines of the torture chamber. It was dark in a warm kind of way, the television rolling the credits of a movie that appeared to have ended a while ago. I stood in the doorway, fixated on Sicily who was fast asleep on the couch, her sister’s head in her lap. Both of their faces were red and tear-tracked, and Brenno had suggested that perhaps they had talked out their problems.
I hoped they had. Sicily loved Fiorella dearly, and now that this new sparkly contract was in place, there was no reason why our territories could not exist in harmony and allow them to see one another on a regular basis.
It seemed hopeful for the Bianchis, but I was aware that there was a girl curled into Francesco’s chest opposite them that would not get such a positive outcome from tonight. She was fast asleep, and Francesco had covered her ears, so she did not hear how Brenno and Ezio had sedated Cesare and dragged him tohis bedroom. He’d said he would take him to get help the next morning, but that he needed to speak to Bella first, somehow explain this to her.
Cesare would get better, but it would be a long road to getting him back, and it did not help that she was three months pregnant and vulnerable. I knew that she had a support system surrounding her here, but I still worried for her. I had enjoyed her being my guest, enjoyed talking to her soft, happy nature, and she had been the first one to help me experience my emotions without Sicily being present, so I was grateful for her. She did not deserve this, but they would make it through, I was confident about that.
As the room remained in a restful quiet, Adriano yawned loudly, earning him a glare from me, Brenno, and Francesco.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“Tell me,” Brenno said, ignoring his yawn. “How the fuck did you get your father to sign?”
Francesco chuckled silently, holding a hand to steady Bella’s head against his chest.
Adriano let out a small laugh too. “Francesco destroyed him, Matteo Bonafede forced him to sign on it, and then I killed him.”
It had been as I had previously thought. Each of them would do anything Sicily asked, but Francesco and Adriano had their own private death wishes for Diego Sansone. He had hurt Adriano his entire life, more emotionally than physically, but that had not stopped Diego. I could understand the lightness in my chest as happiness over the male being deceased.
“And how much did this holiday home set me back?” I asked next, raising a brow.
Adriano and Francesco shared a look.
Brenno choked on nothing. “He’s making me nervous.”
“Thirty million split three ways or something like that,” Adriano spat out.
I pushed off from the doorway. “My wife simply decided to spendten milliondollars, and my accountant cleared it without speaking to me?”
Brenno shrugged. “Fiore’s done worse. I got off lightly on this one.”
That did not surprise me.
My Consigliere held up his hands in defeat. “Your staff love her, don’t blame them.”
I could not blame them; she was particularly loveable, and she would have sent them a gift basket or something nice that convinced them to do the opposite of their jobs.
“I guess we’ll just have to go and make thirty million dollars’ worth of use.” My brother grinned, looking over at his fiancée with a smile.
“We are contractually obligated to do so,” I reminded him.
