Epilogue
Liesel
“Papá, it’s simply not fair that Cristoph’s going on his first mission, and you won’t allow me to go either. Tía Elle’s going. I can’t believe you’re not going to at least consider what I have to say.”
I’m smirking at Jorge as I stand behind our daughter, who’s livid. Just as I suspected years ago, my genes had no say in what our children look like. Jorge’s facing a mirror image of himself, except this one’s about to erupt like a volcano.
“I’ve already explained to you, Elise, why your brother gets to go and you aren’t.”
“He’s younger than I am, Papá, and since Tío Enrique, Tío Luis, and Tío Matáis are too old to go, you could use the extra hands.”
I practically snort as I attempt to stifle my laughter.
Our daughter spins around and glowers at me.
Elise and Cristoph Diaz. Our two oldest children have German first names, which makes for an interesting combination with a Colombian last name and coloring.
It confuses people even more when they meet our other two children, Mariana and Isidora.
“I wouldn’t let your onkels hear you say they’re too old.
All three of them can still put the rest of you to shame.
They may not go on missions anymore, but I’d still wager on a bunch of men in their mid-seventies who can lift more than you and run faster and longer than you, H?schen. ” Little bunny.
“Fine, I’ll give them that, but you’re still allowing Josue, Andrés, Santiago, and Esteban as well as Cristoph, to go. They aren’t nearly as useful as my hermanas and primas are.” Sisters and female cousins.
Jorge and I exchange a glance. Our daughter’s not entirely wrong.
Our daughters and nieces have proven themselves very adept with technology.
It’s not just Joaquin who can hack just about anything.
The five girls got pissed off at their brothers and cousins three Christmases ago because of the boys’ machismo.
The guys claimed they were real men since they’d all grown taller and stronger than their sisters and cousins.
The girls decided to show them there’s more to life than brute force.
The girls got together and hacked all of the boys’ savings accounts and transferred the money among themselves, then spent it to buy their own Christmas gifts for each other.
It was almost too brilliant for us parents to complain about.
However, we still had to force them to return the money to their brothers and cousins. Jorge and I, along with the other parents, still get a chuckle out of it. But right now, Jorge’s trying to avoid the sparks from the live wire standing in front of us.
“Mija, nobody’s doubting you’re intelligent enough to be helpful on these missions. However, nothing changes the fact you’re not as big or as fast as the boys, and you’re not as big and fast as the men we’ll face.” My daughter.
“But I’m an even better shot than Cristoph.”
I’m both proud of our daughters and rue the day Tía Elle taught all the girls how to shoot alongside the boys. She’s still the best shot in the family, and our daughter is one step behind her.
I try to step in and diffuse the situation.
“Elise, you have exams in the morning, and you can’t be half asleep during them from being up all night. You can’t risk not making it home in time.”
She mutters in German, even though she knows Jorge and I understand her. She thinks we can’t hear her.
“Das ist Schwachsinn.” That’s bullshit.
Jorge inhales, his shoulders going back as his chest broadens. He’s upset with Elise, but he’s not doing it to intimidate her. Madeline warned Florencia then me that Tres J’s can’t help it. They just have resting bitch face.
“Now you’re not only not going, but you’re grounded for three weeks. You can hand over all your devices to Mamá. You’ll get back what you need for school. You know better than to swear.”
“Es tut mir Leid.” I’m sorry.
Her apology is heartfelt, and she knew the moment she spoke her thoughts aloud that she’d erred. She also knows it won’t eliminate her punishment. However, she’s still not deterred from her argument.
“I bet Mila and Petra will get to go.”
All of the syndicate couples of Jorge and my generation eventually bought homes in the same two neighborhoods, and we’ve raised our children here just like they were.
The youngest generation didn’t go to elementary and middle school together, but they’re at the same high school.
The same rivalries that existed among Jorge and the other men now exist in this generation too.
Elise’s on the same club soccer team as Mila Kutsenko and Petra Mancinelli, who’re both a few years older than her. They’re thick as thieves and best friends during team sports. But in sports with individual events, they’re more competitive than the boys could ever be.
It’s Jorge’s turn to try to stifle his laughter, but he chokes.
“Mija, there’s not a chance in hell that Maks or Luca will allow their daughters to even consider this.
You should be glad I’m so much more forward-thinking than they are, since I’ve allowed you to help us strategize.
I guarantee Mila and Petra aren’t even in the same house as the men in their families. ”
He pulls our daughter into his arms and strokes her back. I see her relax against him, even if she doesn’t want to admit his hugs still comfort her the same way they have since the day she was born.
“You know we can’t allow you to go on missions, even if you were strong enough and fast enough to keep up, because it would open the door to all the women in the Four Families being targets.
Not all of the women and girls want to do what you want.
All of them may be trained to defend themselves, but if I allow you to come, then it makes your sisters and cousins targets.
People outside the Four Families will see it as open season on women and children.
That’s bad enough for us, but our family will not bear the responsibility of making women in the other families vulnerable too. ”
“But Tía Elle—”
“No. Tía Elle came to this family with skills already, but you know she’s never in the thick of missions.
She doesn’t engage in hand-to-hand. She keeps her distance and maybe one day—when you’re fully an adult—that might be a possibility too.
But for right now, I simply won’t allow it, whether you agree with me or not.
My first and greatest responsibility is to protect you, your mamá, and your siblings, so I won’t willingly endanger you.
That’s non-negotiable. I love you, mija, and that will never stop. My protectiveness will never go away.”
Elise huffs but nods. She hasn’t pulled away from Jorge, and she returns his squeeze.
She inherited my build and is as tall as I am and just as sturdy.
But even in his late forties, Jorge is still massive.
He has the body of a man half his age, and there’s no denying I love it just as much as I did when we met.
I may not look the same as I did before four children, but he’s never once made me doubt he believes I’m the most alluring woman in the world.
Elise offers Jorge and me a kiss on the cheek before she heads into Pablo’s office.
He’s increased his duties more and more as the older generation retires.
Enrique will be the jefe de jefes until his last breath, but Pablo is now more than just New York’s jefe.
He runs most of Latin America with his cousins beside him.
He’ll listen to Elise’s suggestions not just because he’s an indulgent first cousin, once removed but because she’s brilliant.
However, she won’t talk him into anything either.
“You know that’s your daughter, chiquita.”
“Mine? Oh, no, Daddy. That is you through and through.”
Jorge shakes his head. “She might look like me, but that’s your personality.”
“Hardly. I’m much more willing to compromise than you are.”
Jorge scoffs as he wraps his arm around me and leans in to whisper in my ear. “The only compromise I’m willing to make is that we’re headed home in five minutes instead of ten.”
“How is that a compromise?”
“Because my cousins will get my attention for five more minutes. I could make us leave right now. If they try to take longer than that, I’ll drag you up to our room here and have my way with you.”
“That’s a compromise I can live with. It would mortify our kids, but it wouldn’t surprise anyone our age, Meine Liebe.” My love.
We laugh, but we’re soon kissing like we always have.
Like we can’t get enough. Like our life—the one we’ve built together—depends upon being one.
Like it’s the air we need to breathe and the food we need to live.
There will never be enough kisses or moments spent making love—a good hard fucking never goes amiss either.
“Te amo, chiquita.”
“Ich liebe dich, Daddy.”
“Fuck the five minutes, chica. Everyone’s busy right now. We won’t be missed.”
Jorge sweeps me into his arms and takes the stairs two at a time despite his age and my weight.
We don’t care that someone will likely figure out what we’re doing.
We’re pretty sure we conceived Mariana here, and she wouldn’t be the only one of her generation conceived in someone else’s home.
Our brothers, sisters, and cousins—we don’t use in-law in this family—are just as bad as we are.
My husband—my one great love—bends me over the bed. I lift my skirt—I haven’t worn panties in nearly twenty years—as he unfastens his pants. Then he thrusts into me.
“Fuck, Daddy.”
“That’s right, chiquita. Who’s fucking you?”
“You, Daddy.”
“This is going to be hard and fast. You’re going to squeeze those sweet thighs together and keep my cum in you when I’m done.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He lands a spank across my ass, but he’s careful not to make it too loud.
He pounds into me, and I claw at the bedding.
He’s right that it’s fast. I’m begging to come within a couple minutes.
He pinches my nipples through my shirt, and my orgasm explodes.
I feel his cock twitch as my cunt squeezes him, wanting to hold him in place. He kisses my neck.
“Aren’t you glad I had no boundaries and followed you around Frankfurt?”
“Aren’t you glad I let you spank me?”
I look over my shoulder, and we kiss with as much passion as the first time we did in that hotel room all those years ago.
A bachelor party was the last place Alejandro De Santos Diaz expected to meet the alluring woman who was most certainly not what she seemed.
He came to Chicago to celebrate and left when his revenge was done.
He assumed she remained there, so he’s unprepared to discover the mysterious beauty in NYC.