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Evelyn nods, and her eyes drop to my rounded stomach. She tips her head. "Can the baby be here soon?"
She'sveryexcited about meeting her sister.
"We have a couple months left," I laugh, kissing her forehead. "Now, be good for Grandma. I'll be right back with Daddy, okay?"
"Okay." She scampers off.
I maneuver my pregnant body into one of the three cars in the massive garage. Our new house is gorgeous and just as mansion-like as the one Domenic lived in alone before, but I've added far more of my style to this one. Colorful pillows, Evelyn's artwork on the fridge, wax warmers and rugs, and a dozen other things warm up the space and make it into a home. There's a mother-in-law's suite attached to this one, as well, and my mom is there now.
Despite the traffic, I make good time getting to the Golden Flame and barely stop myself from rolling my eyes when the Caputo security guards at the front entrance practically run to my side as I get out of my gleaming Porsche—another present from my fiancé. Admittedly, he spoils me almost as much as he does Evelyn.
Domenic has told me about the division that was going on in his family when everything went down with the Wild Seven nearly two years ago. How his father was stirring up disloyalty because he disapproved of Domenic's more even-handed method of running the crime family he was born and raised to inherit. But after we nearly lost Evelyn, he adjusted how he ran things at the casino and with his family. He still takes his time to mull over big deals and prospects and whatnot, but there's an underlying hint ofdon't fuck with mein everything he does that keeps everyone in line.
Including his father. Who he's meeting with in person for the first time in a couple of months ever since he sent him to a semi-forced retirement in Puglia, Italy. As far as I can tell, it's done wonders for his father—the man is far more relaxed, and at peace with the way the Caputo family runs now, even from the distance he mostly keeps from it.
Meanwhile, I'm still working in security, and I genuinely enjoy it. It's always a fast-paced puzzle, creating security measures and systems to keep out other hackers who think like I do. I'm happy to brag about all the ways I've evolved the Golden Flame Casino's systems, not to mention the extensive consulting I've done with other casinos in Vegas and other cities. My shady past with the Wild Seven doesn't come up…partly because I still do some intensive hacking to keep my and my family's online data highly guarded and minimal. Domenic isn't the only protective one.
The last two years have been fantastic. Like I told Domenic, it's not perfect. He's still a mobster, and I'm still, well, me. I can be a mess sometimes.
But the mistakes and ghosts of past expectations that have haunted each of us are gone, and now there's just the future together in our blissful little family, dealing with each day as it comes along.
It's taken me a while to get to this point, but I feel like I make my own luck these days. It's time to let go of the past fully, which means that the "lucky coins" that I've kept carefully concealed for so long… I'm ready to be done with them.
As I mosey over to the slot machines, I inhale deeply. As always, my fiancé's casino smells unlike any other place in Vegas. It takes me back five years to when we first met, but it also reminds me of the burning anger I held this place responsible for after my father's death. It's why I invented my lucky coins in the first place. Instead of mourning the man who I was never close to, I had holed up in my room for two weeks designing these high-tech little coins, determined to take hacking to another level and destroy any place my father had ever stepped into.
I don't have that anger now. Instead, I focus on the good memories we shared and what I have now. While I hardly have an orthodox life, as the ex-hacker fianceé of a mafia don who would literally kill anyone for crossing me… I'm happier than I've ever been. So damn happy.
It's time to let go of this for good. For a time, I considered selling the technology or telling Domenic about it. But as much as I adore my protective mobster, he's still a mobster. He's already spent much of his life beholden to his ability to heighten profits for his family. These days, he's far less concerned with that, but I don't want this to be another thing he must handle. These lucky coins are mine alone, and I don't want them to go on. I just want to be done with the part of me that they symbolize.
As I'm examining the different slot machines, my gaze snags on an older gentleman, and I blink.
"Still here, huh?" I blurt before I can stop myself.
It's the man who reminded me of my father from the first day I stepped into this place. He's fully bald now, has more age spots, and is holding a different drink as he places another bet. I've seen him here over the last two years and said hi now and then. I've learned his name is Harold, and he always calls me the same thing.
"Ah—Lucky Coin! Good day for slots. You should try the machine next to me."
I snort and approach with a smile. "It's never a good day for slots, Harold."
"Well, now I don't know about that. Had a pretty good day yesterday." He glances from his machine down to my stomach. "Due soon?"
"I wish. This morning I woke up craving corn dogs dipped in vanilla ice cream."
Harold shudders. I nod emphatically. Then I take a deep breath.
"You know…you remind me of my dad."
"That's nice," he says absentmindedly, obviously distracted as he considers his next bet.
It's not really nice. It's sad. I pity this man who clearly suffers to a more minor degree from the same sort ofdisease, as Domenic put it, that my father once did. My father could never overcome his string of terrible luck and never-ending debt. He constantly dove deeper into his addictions and gave up on wanting to resurface to be with my family again.
But Harold doesn't seem as severe a case. He's just here for a win. And while I can't control his actions after this, I still want him to consider that one win might be enough.
"Here," I tell him, pulling out one of my more significantly programmed lucky coins and handing it to him with a bright smile. It looks like any other coin he's putting in. "Maybe you should give my lucky coin a try."
He blinks at me. "Really? You'd let me use your lucky coin? Oh, I don't know if I should…."
He definitely wants it—he's already eyeing which machine to try it in—but at least he has the decency to look hesitant.
