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Epilogue
Stefan
A few months later . . .
To say that the last year hasn’t been a whirlwind would be a completely fabricated lie. I decided to purchase a slave, but not just any woman, the daughter of Texas’ biggest oil manufacturer. I’ll admit that my hand in what I did was wrong, but would I trade it for the world? No, I wouldn’t. I firmly believe that Presley and I have gone through everything for a reason. Orchestrating everything in the way I did may have been fucked up, but it was worth it. Little did I know back then that we’d be where we are now.
It’s my first-time taking Presley, and our newborn daughter, Daniella out of Brazil. We’re not just out of the country on a leisurely vacation. No, we’re in New York City for one of the largest Clan meetings to date. I’ve been hearing rumors about this meeting for a very long time, as most of us have.
One of our own, Aria Baptiste, now known as Aria Moretti, married one of the sons that come from a prestigious crime family. The Moretti’s own the Arcane, which is the largest hit for hire assassin group in the entire world. The amounts that people will pay to bring death to someone’s door still blows my mind.
Rumor has it that we’ve all been asked to come to New York today to hear about a marriage arrangement between Stefano Moretti’s only daughter, and one of the last remaining single Clan leaders. This alliance would mean that the Clans would be no doubt the most feared mafia. Our reach would be endless, and with great power comes countless opportunity.
“Are you sure it’s alright that I’ve brought her?” Presley asks. I turn towards her and take in the way her hair has grown over the past few months. It had just hit her shoulders when I discovered she was pregnant with our daughter, but the pregnancy accentuated her. I’ve heard lots of things about how women have a horrible time. But not my Presley. Instead, her hair grew out in long, full locks with a slight curl that wasn’t quite there before. Not to mention she has a little more junk in the trunk for me to grab onto, not that I mind it at all. She’d always been so thin before. Personally, I think she needed to add a few pounds and our lovely little girl gave her the chance.
I place my hand on the back of her right shoulder and give her a squeeze. “They’ve been itching to see her. Trust me.” The truth behind it is Mariana requested to see the little girl. There was a time, many years ago when I tried to get myself beside her. I had a vision that I would be the man ruling the Clans, especially when Mariana was so determined to fight against the promise that her father had made to Ion’s father when she was just a newborn. I made an absolute fool of myself when I had too much to drink and got too handsy with her. I will never use alcohol as an excuse, though. My actions were my own, and I apologized to my Queen profusely for it. Not to mention, Ion had his way with me one night. Or maybe it was two? Ah, it was so many years ago. I can barely keep track. So, Mariana wanted to see my child and so she shall.
We’re located in some type of skyscraper in the middle of Manhattan. It’s a different location then we’ve previously used and looks quite a bit different. It doesn’t have that old, New York Charm. What I mean by that is we don’t have any old, gaudy craftsman style wood splattered across the place. Instead, it’s clean straight lines with many pops of color. We’re standing in some sort of office space. It almost looks like it used to be a law firm. “They told me that you got here early.” Mariana speaks, coming out of nowhere.
She’s in a black dress which isn’t abnormal. I’ve noticed that black is her power color, just as red is Presley’s. I nod my head down at her and lower my back out of respect. An old-fashioned custom that we’ve recently picked back up. “What’s that saying, ‘punctuality is the virtue of the bored’?” I say with a laugh.
“Oh, well if you’re bored it must mean that there’s no issues. I guess I should be relieved.”
“I’m not sure if relieved is the appropriate word for it. Cautious might be a better choice.”
“Ah, yes. Cautious of whatever is going on in that mind of yours.” Mariana says, but I don’t mistake the sly jab she’s making. She takes a step further towards Presley and peers into her arms. “Daniella is beautiful, just like her mother.”
I glance down to catch Presley’s smile. I’m sure every man thinks this, but seeing happiness spread across the woman I love’s face is . . . priceless. Motherhood has changed her, and definitely for the better. There’s no doubt that she was strong before, but now I think she will be feared.
“Oh, are you pregnant?” Presley asks, and all I can do is think about the times I’ve assumed a woman is pregnant. Spoiler alert, it’s never been the case. Instead, I’ve been the asshole.
Mariana beams, running her hand along her stomach. “I thought it wouldn’t be so apparent in this dress. Guess I was wrong.”
I glide my hand from Presley’s shoulder, down her arm until I’m holding her hip. “Congratulations. I’m sure both Ion and Bianca are thrilled for the impending arrival.”
Mariana smiles with a glimmer in her eye. “Bianca is over the moon with excitement. I wanted to keep things quiet for a bit just in case I miscarried, but when she asked why I was getting fat. . . well, cat was out of the bag.”
Ion comes strutting up behind his wife, clad in his typical black Armani suit. “Ah, there you are. The others came in on the elevator a few minutes ago. Are you ready to get started?”
Mariana nods, turning to her husband. “Yes, let’s get started. We have quite a few things to go over and it’s a rarity to get all of the Clan members plus their wives in one spot.”
Both Ion and Mariana lead the way down a hall into what looks to be a large conference room. Instead of walls, big pieces of glass separate the hallway from the conference area. Clan leaders are sitting around the room in various places, even seeing children on their mother and father’s laps. Looking at Rhys and Vera, I see that they have their hands full with twin boys. Anton and Natasha sit across from them, with a little girl who can’t be more than maybe three or four and a boy just a shy bit younger. Willow and Duncan, who are arguably the most risqué couple because he has no Romanian blood whatsoever sit next to Rhys and Vera. Willow was the bastard child of her father, the last remaining Adame and married the man tasked to protect her. The two of them have a young son named Graham.
Aria and Salvatore are in attendance, which is quite a bit odd if you ask me. Normally Aria’s brother, Marcel handles the business for her family since he is now the head of their Clan . . . but as I glance around the room, I see he is here as well. Looking around, I see the rest of the Clan leaders are here too, even Ungur and Sala. They hardly ever make it to a meeting. It just goes to show me that the Moretti crime princess must’ve been promised to one of these two.
“Please, everyone take a seat.” Ion’s voice booms out, instructing everyone to do as he asks. Presley and I take a seat almost directly next to Mariana and Ion. Across from us sits a woman and an older man. The woman looks incredibly similar to Salvatore, and knowing what I do, this must be his little sister. “I’m sure you’ve all seen that we have company.” Ion looks over to the woman and man. “This is Stefano Moretti, the kingpin of the Arcane. Beside him is his lovely daughter, Carla.” Ion takes his place next to Mariana and looks to her.
“I’m excited to announce the unification of our two families. This has been a long time coming and I firmly believe that we will have a mutually beneficial relationship. Stefano has arranged for Carla to marry one of our head Clan members. You all know I am not one for these types of traditions. In all honesty, I believe they are something that should be abolished. But change does not happen overnight, and I’ve accepted that. Carla, I welcome you into our family.”
I watch the exchange that Mariana and Carla have. The woman is hard to read, but that’s a given. Italian women are always difficult to read. They were trained in the art of mastering the ‘poker face’ before they can even say cannoli.
“Have you selected my husband to be?” Carla asks, with a tiny hint of saltiness. Her eyebrow is cocked up, staring at our leaders.
Mariana looks shocked for a moment, but laughter takes over her shortly. “Yes, Phillipe, would you please stand?”
I don’t have to turn my head far because Philippe is sitting directly beside Presley. The red headed man in his early forties stands and looks down at his bride to be. I watch the way he tries to hold back his smile, looking down at the beautiful Italian girl who is maybe in her late twenties or early thirties. Regardless, she’s absolutely beautiful, but not that fake type of beautiful. There’s not one ounce of Botox or silicone pumped into this woman, and what a rarity that is these days. “You’re even more beautiful in person, Carla.”
“Shit. Pictures don’t do him justice.” Carla mutters under her breath. I doubt anyone beside the few of us who are sitting close to her could make out what she just said.
Presley obviously heard her with the smirk that she’s wearing. Mariana clears her throat and continues speaking, “One year from today, we will unite our families the most sacred of ways. Phillipe Sala and Carla Moretti will be married, and I expect each and every one of us to be there.” Mariana looks down to Daniella, “Even the smallest of us.”
Philippe’s eyes don’t waver from Carla’s, looking at her almost the same way I stare at Presley. I don’t believe in love at first sight or any of that shit, but I do believe in instant connections and I sure do think they have one.
I’ll just sit back and watch from the sidelines, because my defiant little angel and I have our own life to live.
