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Nero’s jaw ticced, and I fully expected him to agree with her, but he pushed her weapon down. “I think we should agree.”
“What?” Una glared at her husband, and for a moment, I thought she might shoot him.
He glanced at her. “Think about it. We have The Outfit. With the mob as well, we’d be handing Dante three major crime syndicates.” Should have known he’d be thinking about it from a power standpoint.
“I don’t care about the damn mafia, Nero. He is a child!”
I cleared my throat, not really wanting to get involved. “If he grows up and doesn’t want to marry her, he can always break it off. It’s two decades away. We have plenty of time to get out of it and find another solution to our problem.”
Both Nero and I looked to Una. Waiting.
She might have been cold, but she was fiercely protective of her children. “He is my son.”
“He will rule the Famiglia after me,” Nero said, touching her face and forcing her to look at him. “You know this. And he will be every bit as ruthless as you, morte. You really think he’ll be forced into some marriage he doesn’t want?”
The thought of Dante stepping up after Nero was terrifying. There was no way he was going to be anything less than savage with parents like them. Nero was right, though. Dante’s place would always be firmly within the mafia, and if he wanted power, then alliances had to be forged.
“Una, you know none of us would ever let anything happen to Dante,” I said. It was true. I’d protect Dante as if he were my own.
Her lips pressed together, and I was surprised when resignation crept over her features. “Fine. But if he wants out of it, he will not be held to it. I will kill you myself, Nero.”
I fully believed her.
Her lethal gaze shifted to me. “I hope your peace is worth it.”
It was gone midnight when we arrived back at Emilia’s family lake house. Not that you would know it. Luca answered the door, his face drawn, shirt rumpled.
I frowned at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing—”
A high-pitched scream rang down the hall, followed by giggling. A second later, Renzo came running around the corner with Dante on his back, neighing like a horse as Dante laughed and kicked him. I snorted.
“Why is he still awake at this time?” Una shoved past me, stalking down the hall after Enzo, the pony.
“The kid doesn’t sleep,” Luca said, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s like he’s on crack.”
Nero grinned. “You fed him sugar, didn’t you?”
I snorted. “Rookie error, my friend.”
Dante would sell his soul for some candy, so I wasn’t totally surprised that a two-year-old had manipulated grown men.
Luca looked like he’d seen some shit tonight. “He’s like a small demon.”
I laughed. “Where’s Emilia?”
He thumbed down the hall. “Living room. She chose the quiet one.”
I headed through the house, taking in the sparse walls and fancy art. Emilia said it had always been like this, and the boys had made no attempt to make it homier since inheriting the property. I mean, I got it; they’d just left it like it was. I had done the same with the Hamptons house when I’d moved in. We were men. We didn’t give a shit.
Their mother was now living in a townhouse in the city, apparently. She didn’t want to be around the mafia after losing her husband. Emilia didn’t seem too bothered about seeing the woman, so I left it alone.
I made my way to the living room and spotted Emilia in the armchair by the fire. Her head was tilted back, eyes closed, and clutched to her chest was baby Tatiana. The sight of them together was like a fist around my heart. Longing filled me because I wanted that—her and a baby. I wanted all of it.
I approached her and carefully removed Tatiana from her grasp, moving the tiny baby to my chest. The moment her hands fell around empty air, Emilia lurched awake, eyes wide and panicked. When her gaze landed on me, she relaxed.
“You scared me. What time is it?” she asked.
“Twelve thirty.”
Tatiana stirred, and I smoothed a hand over her back. Emilia’s gaze dropped to the little girl, softening.
Fuck, I wanted to take her upstairs right now and put a baby in her, but I reined in the impulse. We had all the time in the world now. She was twenty. Had seen nothing of the world, experienced so little. But I was going to change all of that.
“Come, piccola. We need to go.” I turned away, heading for the door.
Emilia followed, her feet padding over the hardwoods behind me. “Go where?”
“We have a flight to catch.”
“To New York?”
“No.”
I found Nero in the kitchen drinking whiskey with Luca and Renzo. The laughter and screaming had stopped, so I assumed Una had managed to wrangle Dante to bed. The Donato brothers looked exhausted, and I couldn’t help but smile.
