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So much money out there for the taking. So many businesses for me to control. An empire to run. To expand. It’ll take the rest of my life. Ultimate power. More wealth than any one man can spend.
I used to want it more than anything else but now things have changed. I want something much more important.
All I want is to be the father of Rory’s child. To create a new family.
I think of Giovanni. I didn’t even need to kill him myself. I should have guessed he’d try something stupid. A thought strikes me as I ponder what just happened. The commission do not allow weapons in their meetings. He should have been searched.
Two possible reasons why he wasn’t. One, they forgot. Not likely. Two, they knew what he was planning and this gave them an excuse to take out the loudest mouth in the city, the one likely to expose the five families to danger.
Once again, they have played the game better than I ever could. I have to admire them. I have much to learn from their efforts. I’ve got a lifetime to do it.
I smoke my cigar and let the city drift by like the flotsam on a flooded river. My mind returns to Rory. That’s where it’s going to remain from now on. Like the minister said last night, for better or for worse.
She is mine.
Epilogue
Aurora
* * *
Two weeks later…
Nico has taken the day off. As he said, it might be his last chance for a while.
He’s now the Don of the Casella famiglia. I’m married to a mafia Don. I’ve moved up in the world. The thought makes me smile. It’s what my parents wanted for me. It’s the reason they never let me make a decision for myself. I wonder what they’d think if they knew I’m married to a Casella. Not only that, I’m going to have a child with Nico.
The thought still gives me goosebumps. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being excited about the prospect of us raising a family.
When he came back from the commission last night, I was so relieved I could have wept. “It’s over,” he said, taking me in his arms and holding me tightly to him. “It’s all over.”
He hasn’t talked about Giovanni other than to say he won’t be a problem anymore.
Santina has gone back to her house. She’s packing up and putting the place on the market. Said her house has too many bad memories. She’s looking for somewhere new to live.
She’s also thinking of going to college, just like Cara. She’s going to study fashion with the hope of becoming a designer one day. She showed me some of her sketches on her cellphone and they looked incredible. I told her I’ll be her first customer. Cara said she’d be her second.
Speaking of Cara, she’s filling in the application forms for college with Matteo’s help. The first annual Casella scholarship is ready and waiting to be used. She won’t have to pay for a thing in college. Going to study law. Should be useful for the family, Nico says. He’s already planning on hiring her on retainer once she qualifies.
Cara keeps trying to persuade me to apply as well. Maybe I will but not yet. I want to stay here and bring our baby into the world first.
Maybe I’ll go in a couple of years but for now I’ve got something else planned.
I need to talk to Nico about it. He’s laid out at the back of the mansion, by the pool. From where I am in the kitchen, I can see him in his swimming shorts and he looks good enough to eat.
A courier has just arrived, is handing him a package, before walking away without another word. I watch the entire interaction, unable to tear my eyes from my husband for long enough to get anything done.
I came in to fix myself a drink. My bikini is dripping onto the kitchen floor. He told me to stay in the pool. He keeps telling me the staff can do things for me and I keep telling him I’m enjoying doing things for myself.
It doesn’t get old going into the kitchen and not facing a barrage of criticism. “Don’t drink that, it’s full of calories… No one will want a fat girl… You should be in the gym, not the refrigerator.”
Here, I’m pouring myself a soda and no one is yelling at me. It’s bliss.
I walk out with a drink for me and a bottle of imported lager for Nico. He takes his drink and nods a thanks, sitting up a little on his recliner, crossing his feet at the ankles, looking like the god he is.
“The life of a mafia Don,” I say with a grin. “Looks tough.”
He takes a sip of his beer and smiles back at me. “You want me to go sit in the study and bury myself in paperwork?”
