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He moves his mouth far enough to speak but close enough for me to feel his breath against mine. “The sins of the father are always passed down to the son.” His fingers flex against my belly. “My sins have blackened my soul, Makenna.”
I cradle his face in my hand. “Your sins will be forgiven, just like everyone else’s are forgiven, and our son is going to be fine. Maybe we aren’t a typical family, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be a normal one.” I give him a warm smile. “We will love him. We will nurture him. We will raise him to be brave and strong like his father.”
His eyes darken again. “I will walk through Hell and challenge the Devil himself if he tries to hurt you.” He brings his forehead to mine. “Either one of you.”
Callisto isn’t a man of empty threats or broken promises. His words are as serious as the man saying them. He’s making an oath—to me, to our unborn child, to the Universe—and God save the man who is brave enough to test it.
38
Callisto
Makenna found sleep when sleep eluded me. All I can think about is Morano and his words.Carlos won’t be around forever. One day, it will just be you and me.
Well, today is that day, and somehow, Morano is back. Although, I have no idea how. His containers aren’t coming in on the trains. My men have checked every shipment. They have to be coming in some other way—eighteen-wheelers, maybe. But highway patrol monitors those trucks. I know because we’ve looked into using them ourselves. He’d be busted in a heartbeat.Unless someone is helping him.
I will spend my last breath keeping our child safe. The same way I’d kill or be killed to keep Makenna safe. I know the pressures of growing up as the son of a mafia boss. I know the unspoken expectations. I spent my entire childhood in silent preparation of a fate I never wanted. For years, I watched my mother pace the floor in fervent, urgent prayer when my father wouldn’t come home some nights. I watched men with more power than should ever be allowed one person cower at my father’s feet. I respected and feared a man I should’ve loved and adored. I don’t want fear. I wantnormal, whatever the fuck that means.
I watched a monster hold a gun to my mother’s head and held my breath while the world as I knew it came to an end. All because of her last name. Because of who she chose to love.
I refuse to let that happen to anyone else. It won’t happen to Makenna, and it damn sure won’t happen to our child.
Makenna is excited about this pregnancy. For some unknown reason, she needs this. Maybe it’s to fill a void her own father left behind. Maybe it’s because I spent too much time hiding from her. I don’t know why she needs this. I just know that she does. And if she asked me to rip open my chest and hand her the very heart that belongs to her, I would. I would sell my soul for her happiness.If I still had one.
So much has changed in the last twenty-four hours. I don’t know whatbeing a bosstruly means to the rest of the world, but to me it means responsibility. Power. Control. Never let them see you sweat, and never, ever turn your back. To me,familyis more than Makenna and our unborn child. It’s more than my father, grandmother, and cousins. It’s Franco, my father’s advisor who now sits at my side. It’s Jaxon, who hasn’t beenmadebut is like a brother to me, and as soon as he gets back from handling his own shit, I’m making him my Enforcer. It’s Carmine, Gio, and Matteo and their wives and children. It’s every soldier underneath them and every associate we do business with. I don’t take the weight of my title lightly. I know who sits at my table, and I know what I have to do to protect them all.
After my father’s heart attack, he hardly ever leaves the house. His sickness makes him weak, and whether he’s still in control or not, that makes him a target. When we get back home, I’ll spend my days making sure the restaurant maintains its integrity as one of New Orleans’s finest, and my nights making sure the nameSuppatocontinues to spark fear in the wicked and admiration in the loyal. I don’t want to let him down.
I don’t want to let anyone down, including Makenna.
I brush a finger over her cheek and she stirs in her sleep. Her lips part as she drags in a breath. Her eyes flutter open. Then she smiles, slow and lazy. And when she stretches underneath the covers, it lights a fire in my blood.
Jesus.
I want to yank the comforter off and straddle her on my cock.
“Good morning,” she purrs, her voice sleep-heavy and rough.
Fuck it.
Without a word, I pull the blanket down. Her naked body is tempting as fuck and my dick as hard as steel. Her nipples are taut and ready for my mouth, for my teeth.
I flick my tongue over a nipple, then drag it between my teeth.
She whimpers, back arched and tit shoved against my mouth.
I sweep the comforter to the side. “Christ, look at that.” I run a thumb between her pussy lips, spreading them open. “Such a perfect, pretty little cunt, soaking wet and waiting for me.” I drag a knuckle along her seam and her hips roll.
Fuck.
I want to slip my finger in her slick cunt, to bury my dick inside her, to wrap my fingers around her pretty throat and make her scream. I want all those things—and I’ll have them—but mostly I want to make her come.
My finger slides up and down her slit, teasing her clit. Fuck, she’s wet. It’s all over my fingers, echoing in the air.
Her body tenses and squirms as she grinds against my hand. “Ah—fuck…”
“You want more?” I stroke her clit harder. Faster. Clamp my mouth over her nipple. My other hand grips the back of her hair, tangling it in my fist.
She whines when I yank her head back—a sexy, primal noise that almost makes me come all over the sheets.
