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He glances up from placing a bowl of figs, grapes and walnuts, and another with what seems like some kind of jam, next to the flatbreads.
"It’s a snack." He pats the rug next to him. "Sit with me, Princess."
I step out of my shoes, then sink down beside him and place my handbag next to me. He puts his arm around me and draws me close. I rest my head on his shoulder, and let the silence wash over me. It’s hard to believe we are less than half an hour away from the town center we left behind, and only a few hours out of Palermo.
He pulls me closer and I sink into that wall-like chest. I draw in a breath, and the brine of the sea, laced with the darker, edgier scent of him, teases my nostrils.
"You like being in the Mafia?" I bite my tongue almost as soon as the words are out. What kind of a question is that, anyway?
To his credit, he doesn’t seem offended. "It’s the only life I know," he admits. "Michael and I were close growing up. He had a lot of responsibilities thrust on him from a very young age. I’m the closest in age to him, so I understood how it felt to try to protect our brothers from the wrath of our father."
I glance up at him. "Your father… Was he—"
"He was a bastard." Seb stares into the distance. "My mother was his mistress. When she passed, he took us in. Any gratefulness I felt toward him dissipated when I realized he was an abusive motherfucker. His wife—Michael and Luca's mother—was too weak to stand up to him. Michael, being the oldest of us, took the brunt of his beatings, until he grew physically strong enough to defend himself. He tried to protect us from our father’s wrath, but he wasn’t always around. When he turned eighteen, he went to LA to study. In the period of time before we went to join him, our father had free reign. He took out his anger at having Michael escape him by beating up me and Luca, who were the next in age."
"You and Adrian are half-brothers to the rest of the Sovranos?"
"We’re half-brothers to Michael and Luca; Christian, Axel, and Xander are half-brothers to all of us. They had a different mother from Michael and Luca’s mother, and from my and Adrian’s mother."
I widen my gaze. "Your father sure did get around, eh?"
"Bastardocouldn’t keep it in his pants," Seb agrees.
"So, you and Michael seem to share a special relationship."
"Well, I’m the older sibling, and so is he. We didn’t realize that Christian, Axel and Xander shared a different mother until very recently. Luca always had a chip on his shoulder for not being born as the older son. He’s always wanted to be Don, for as long as I can remember."
"And now you’re handing over your title as Capo to him."
"Michael should have made him Capo when he took over as Don from our father. I never really wanted the title."
"You don’t strike me as someone who’s selfless." My forehead furrows.
"Oh, trust me, there’s nothing particularly selfless about this. My aim has always been to look beyond the Mafia, to bring us into the next century, so to speak."
"Hence, the venture into media and tech?" I interject.
"You were listening in on our conversation?" He doesn’t seem upset about it.
"Hard not to listen, considering you guys were talking right in front of me."
"And what do you think of it?"
"Of what?" I blink.
"Of my heading up Trinity Enterprises with the Kane Company and the Bratva, and starting a media venture of my own."
"You’re asking me?" I sit up. "You want my opinion?"
"You’re my wife. Of course, I want your opinion."
I glance down to where my hand rests on his chest. The ring he gave me catches the sun’s rays.
Did Fabio ask my opinion on anything? No, he’d been a typical Italian male, or so I’d thought. Right from the start, he told me he expected me to be a stay-at-home wife to take care of our child and make sure there was a hot dinner waiting for him when he came home. It had been a one-way conversation, that one. No wonder it came as a shock when he discovered my other proclivities.
And now, here’s Seb. Also an Italian male. And a Mafia guy, at that. I guess I expected him to be similar. Even though our marriage is only an arrangement, on some level, I thought he’d have the same expectations. At every turn, though, he surprises me. He’s shown himself to be far from the chauvinist I pegged him for. Oh sure, he’s dominant and has a big ego, but he’s also fair and sensitive to my needs. And now, he’s asking for my opinion on a possible career shift?
I shake my head. "Are you sure you’re for real?"
