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“You think I can let that shit be out there throwing around the Family name while acting like he acts? Fuck no. He’s getting clean. He’s getting a job. And he’s stopping with this shit.”

“I, ah, I don’t think the drinking and the drugs are really the root of the problem.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Renzo said, shaking his head, barely managing to suppress an eye roll. “The problem was that fuckhead step-father of yours. But, well, let’s just say I have my ways of straightening out my men. Your brother is turning shit around starting today.”

I knew that maybe the normal response to hearing this, especially given the kind of man Renzo is, was to be horrified, worried.

All I could feel, though, was gratitude.

“Thank you.”

“Eh, think I owe it to you, kid. This Family treated you like shit after Frank got pinched and your ma died. Consider this me making it right. Looks like everything else worked out for you,” he said, jerking his chin toward Emilio.

“This going to be a problem?” Emilio asked, putting his arm behind my chair.

“We got bigger problems than this shit,” he said, shrugging. “Besides. Technically, she isn’t a Lombardi,” he added.

“Don’t,” I cut off Emilio as he opened his mouth to object. “It’s okay. I’m happy not to be a Lombardi,” I said, looking at Renzo.

And he smirked at me.

“Don’t worry. I’m not offended,” he said, moving to stand. “Got my paperwork?” he asked as Lorenzo and Emilio both stood as well.

“We’ll be right back,” Emilio said, giving my hip a squeeze, then moving out of the room with the other two.

I desperately wanted coffee, but I decided I’d fucked things up enough already, so I’d better just keep my ass firmly planted in the chairs I’d fallen in love with, in the dining room I’d painstakingly designed with this little hope in my heart that one day, someday, I might have a dining room exactly like this.

It felt insane that I could have this exact one. After everything I’d done.

So I wasn’t going to do anything to fuck it up.

Not even get myself coffee.

I could hear the muffled sound of voices as they, it seemed, went into the office. They grew louder as they emerged a few moments later.

“Is this the start of an understanding between us finally?” Lorenzo asked.

“No,” Renzo said, making me wince. God, he always sounded like such an asshole. “But I have an idea on that front. Taking a page out of the Esposito handbook on that.”

“I swear to fuck—“ Emilio started, cutting off suddenly. Maybe Lorenzo gave him a look? I couldn’t see them. But I wasn’t used to hearing that sort of ferocity in Emilio’s voice.

“Relax. I’m not in the mood for the headache that is a kidnapping. We’ll just have to work out an arrangement. We’re done for now, though.”

Then there was the opening and closing of the door, followed by more muffled male voices. Like they were trying to talk low, to not be heard by me.

That was something I would likely have to learn to accept. Not knowing everything. Always being a little in the dark about the inner workings of the Family business.

I imagined that was something all the wives, mothers, sisters, cousins, and daughters needed to accept.

“You haven’t made a beeline for the coffee pot yet?” Emilio asked, snapping me out of my swirling thoughts.

He was standing in the doorway, looking a little more tense than he had been when I’d seen him just moments before.

“I didn’t want to interrupt anything,” I said, scooting out from behind the table, then walking into the kitchen.

Emilio followed, watching me as I made us each a cup, but saying nothing.

“Emilio?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What did Renzo mean when he talked about pulling an Esposito?” I asked.

That was the wrong thing to ask.

His entire body tensed.

Then he let out a deep breath, like he’d been holding it for minutes, hours, days, years.

“Alright. Well. Primo Esposito is the boss of a Family that used to be a bit of a rival to us. Until the day he kidnapped my sister and forced her to marry him.”

“What?” I hissed, almost dropping my coffee in my shock. I was glad for my overuse of creamer when the warm, but not overly hot, liquid poured over my hand.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “That was the event that… made shit go dark,” he admitted.

“Well… yeah,” I said, eyes huge. “I mean, that was your sister’s safety. It must have felt like your job to protect her.”

“Yes,” he agreed, the pain clear in his eyes.

“What happened?”

“She was… given a choice. Of sorts. She married him, or he killed all of us. She… she sacrificed herself for all of us.”

“Of course she did,” I said, nodding, seeing the impossible situation she found herself in. “Is she… okay?”

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