36
Sebastiano
”Sebastiano, my boy,” Dad greets me with a smirk as I approach. He sets aside his glass of whiskey and gestures for me to take a seat, and I sink into the chair opposite him.
”We need to talk.”
His expression shifts, a flicker of concern crossing his features. ”What”s on your mind, son?”
Gritting my teeth, I dive into the shit show at the docks. I spill every damn detail––how someone has been moving the cameras to create dead zones to cover their tracks, Diego, and the missing employees. Dad listens, his face like a stone wall and unreadable as I lay out the facts.
When I finish, he nods thoughtfully. ”The situation is under control for now,” I growl with a sharp tone. ”But there”s a fucking rat among us.”
His eyes narrow, his voice low and lethal. ”We can”t afford any more damn betrayals. Get to the bottom of this, Sebastiano.”
But as we recount the details of what I have in place at the docks, I notice a subtle shift in his demeanor. The hard lines of his face soften slightly, and the furrow between his brows eases a little. There”s a glimmer in his eyes, maybe a flicker of approval? I’m not so sure until he speaks again.
”You”ve done well, Sebastiano,” he says, his voice still gruff but approving. ”You”re showing true leadership in handling this situation. It”s clear to me now that you”re taking this seriously.”
Relief floods through me at his words. I”ve really tried to step it up but hearing him say that he believes in me means everything.
”And Mia,” he continues, his tone softens into more of a whisper. ”I knew she was a good choice for you. She brings out the best in you, son. I can see how you’ve changed over the past few months. You’ve really stepped up for the mafioso.”
I don”t reply to that. I can”t deny the effect she has on me and how Mia has managed to worm her way into my head. But I refuse to admit it, especially to him.
In an attempt to deflect the conversation from Mia, I bring up a worry that has been nagging at the back of my mind. Nico”s behavior has been off lately, and I can”t shake the feeling that he”s up to something. ”I”ve ordered additional surveillance on Nico. Ever since he came over a few weeks ago, I have a feeling that he”s hiding something.”
”We need to keep an eye on him,” he says, his brows furrow in concern. ”If he”s plotting something, we need to be prepared––no surprises.”
I nod, and my chest tightens at the thought. Nico may be family, and I can”t see him doing something against us. I just can”t put my finger on what”s been going on with him lately.
”Trust your instincts. If there”s one thing I”ve learned in this life, it”s that gut feelings are rarely wrong.”
”I will,” I assure him.
”And once all of these shipping issues are handled, Alessio wants us to double his deliveries—shit is really taking off in Philly, and I think we can capitalize on it,” I explain, going over what he and I discussed on the phone earlier.
Dad nods in understanding. ”It”s risky, but if you believe it”s worth pursuing, go for it. You”ve proven yourself capable of taking the lead on this one. Just remember to stay alert and watch your back. The world of the mafioso is unpredictable, even among the Commission. We cannot afford any missteps, especially in unfamiliar territory.”
”I understand, Dad,” I reply confidently. ”But the potential gains outweigh the risks, especially with the demand in Philly. And don”t worry, I”ll be cautious and keep alert.”
”You know, Dad,” I start, my voice betraying my exhaustion, ”sometimes I wonder if running this family is gonna make me age prematurely.”
Dad chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that fills the room. ”Ha! You think you”re feeling the weight of it now. Wait until you”re fully in my shoes, son. It”s a heavy burden, but one we bear with pride.”
With that, we exchange a firm handshake and walk back to the rest of the crowd. I catch sight of Mia across the room, and a wave of relief washes over me. She”s been my anchor in this shitstorm. But just as I begin to relax in her presence, my attention is abruptly pulled away by the sound of Karen”s irritating voice. Her unnecessary comment about Mia”s dress cuts through the air like a sharp blade.
My jaw tightens as I hear Karen”s words. ”Where”s the dress I sent over? You should have worn it instead of this thing you chose,” she remarks, her hand brushing over the fabric of Mia”s dress with distaste. ”The dress I chose was much better and would have fit you better,” she says, her tone dripping with condescension.
Cagna! The fire burning inside me threatens to consume my restraint as I close the distance between us, my steps purposeful and determined as my pulse quickens.
Karen is still oblivious to my approach, her attention solely focused on Mia, who stands like a deer caught in headlights, taking the brunt of Karen”s verbal assault.
My fists ball at my sides, but I smirk cockily, deciding I’ll play her little game. Keeping it cool, I stand beside Mia, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her into a heated kiss. I pull back and playfully slap her ass.
”She couldn’t wear it,” I say with a smirk, turning to face Karen while keeping Mia in my arms. ”I just can’t keep my hands off my sexy ass wife,” I tell her, giving Mia”s ass a little squeeze. ”And I ripped it off her body,” I add calmly. ”Good thing, too, because although my wife looks tempting in anything she wears, it was an ugly fucking dress.”
Karen gasps in offense. ”T-That was a gift,” she tries to muster out.
Gesturing to Mia, I say, ”This is a much better fit, and she looks beautiful, don”t you agree?” I ask, my tone sharp, emphasizing each word with deliberate precision.
”Uh... I’m... you,” she continues to stutter.
”It’s in shreds now, but Marie can send you the remains since you love it so much,” I retort, feeling my anger simmering beneath the surface. I”m trying to keep it in check for Mia”s sake. That”s the only reason Fake Barbie doesn”t have a bullet in her Botox forehead right now.
Her hand goes to her chest, “That was an expensive dress,” she continues, looking directly at Mia.
”Well, it’s trash now,” I respond for Mia, the words practically seething through my clenched teeth. This bitch really has the nerve to gasp. Her dramatic reaction only annoys me more.
Karen’s reaction is immediate. Her eyes widen in disbelief, and her shock is evident—a stark contrast to the facade of confidence she usually wears. Despite her efforts to conceal it, a subtle tremor ripples through her hands, revealing her inner turmoil. It”s clear she wasn”t expecting anyone to stand up to her today, and the realization leaves her briefly shaken.
”Oh, and Karen, one more thing,” I say, advancing toward her until I”m directly in her face, leaving her cornered with nowhere to turn for help. Her eyes dart around, searching for her worthless husband but finding no escape. ”Don”t ever send my wife clothes again, do I make myself clear?”
”Crystal clear,” she affirms. Her tone is weak, but her compliance is clear.
I couldn”t care less about her feelings. She”s lucky she got away with just a damn warning.
My arm is still around Mia, who’s staring at Karen, her jaw dropped in shock. I gently push up her chin with my thumb and run it over her bottom lip as I lean in closer, whispering into her ear. “Keep that mouth closed, Piccolina, or I”ll have to fill it,” I murmur, my voice husky and low, meant for her ears only.
I can”t help but feel a sense of triumph. Standing my ground against her sends a message, not just to her but to everyone present, including her pathetic husband. This isn”t my house, but this is my domain, and I won”t tolerate disrespect.
And now here I am, going down in history as the don who fights over women’s clothing.
But I can”t help but chuckle at Karen”s reaction, relishing in her discomfort.
Karen strides towards Peter, her words lost in the hum of the room, just as the chef”s voice cuts through the chatter, signaling the start of dinner service. Peter assumes his place at the head of the table, with Karen seated at the opposite end. I settle to the right of Peter, my father”s steely gaze meeting mine from across the table, and Mia positioned at my right.
As the servers begin to set our plates, the delicious aroma of filet mignon over a bed of mashed potatoes fills the air, mingling with the crisp fragrance of asparagus. My hunger is growing by the second as the food wafts through the room.
I rest my hand on Mia’s thigh, intending to offer a gentle squeeze, but when I glance over, I notice her hands dancing nervously on her lap, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. Concern flickers in my mind, erasing the calm that had settled over me.
”If you don”t eat, you don”t get to come tonight,” I whisper in her ear, my voice low so nobody can hear me, tinged with a hint of a playful threat.
Her response is swift, her eyes meeting mine with a mixture of apprehension and a little defiance. ”W-Why? I’m not that hungry. I’ll just eat later when we get home,” she says, her voice trembling slightly.
“I thought I warned you about lying to me, Piccolina,” I retort, keeping my tone cool. Her attempt to downplay the situation only fuels my suspicion.
She lets out a shaky breath, “I-I don’t really like this. It’s not a big deal. Let”s just get through the night, and I’ll eat later,” Mia stammers, her voice wavering with nervousness and discomfort.
My stomach twists with unease as I eyeball the table. And what the fuck do I see? Mia”s plate, just a handful of greens. It”s hardly a salad, just a few leaves arranged on a plate. It”s an insult how they treat her like she”s less than dirt. Meanwhile, I”m surrounded by a feast fit for a king.
My brows knit together in fury and disbelief, especially when I clock Karen”s plate—it”s a mirror image of Mia”s. It”s like she”s mocking her.
What the fuck is this?
My arm shoots out, snagging one of the passing servers by the collar. ”Bring Mia a normal plate,” I bark, leaving no room for argument.
“No need, dear, this is her favorite. Tell him, Mia,” Karen insists. Smiling wide with a green chunk of lettuce stuck in between her front teeth.
Ugh, who the fuck is she kidding with this?
Karen”s insistence that the dish is Mia”s favorite hits me like a slap in the face. My blood boils at her audacious lie, my usually controlled demeanor slipping as I bark out, ”Bullshit! And I”m not your fucking dear.” I can”t stand liars, especially when they”re trying to manipulate the truth for their own agenda. Grass isn”t anyone”s favorite meal.
Cazzo di cagna.
Peter”s knuckles turn white as he pounds the table, his frustration palpable. ”That”s enough!” His voice reverberates through the room, each word laden with anger as he fixes his gaze on Mia. ”Mia Russo, how dare you let him speak to your parents like that?”
My voice slashes through the thick tension, slicing it like a blade through flesh. ”Remember who the fuck you”re talking to,” I growl, punctuating each word.
Despite my warning, Peter”s stupid retort only ignites my fury further, pushing me dangerously close to the edge. ”She’s my daughter. I can speak to her however I wish. This is a family matter,” he stutters, his trembling voice betraying his attempt at authority in the face of my unyielding resolve.
A sinister chuckle escapes me. “That’s where you’re wrong, Peter.” This bastard has a lot of nerve. ”She stopped being your daughter the day you sold her to the fucking devil,” I hiss, my voice dripping with contempt. ”She”s my wife now,” I continue, ”and you will treat her with respect.” It”s a clear warning of consequences should he dare to defy me.
Spit sprays from the corners of Peter’s mouth like venom as he seethes at Mia, his voice a harsh growl. “This is all your fault.” His fury seems endless as he directs his rage at Mia.
”How the fuck is this Mia’s fault?” My heartrate quickens its pace as the situation continues to escalates.
My hand instinctively gravitates toward the weapon at my side, the cold metal offering a reassuring sense of control in this chaos.
With a silent exchange of looks, my soldiers and Enzo stand ready and alert. Mia”s chest rises and falls rapidly, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she bolts up from her seat.
But before she can escape, Peter abruptly stands and grabs her arm, his grip tight and menacing. Fear flashes across Mia”s face as she meets his gaze. Her eyes widen in terror. She flinches instinctively, turning away and squeezing her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to block him.
“You’re always causing troub––” Peter”s words are cut short by the threatening growl that escapes my lips.
I crack my neck from side to side and rise from my seat. My hand unclips the holster, my fingers curling around the cold metal. I brandish the weapon at Peter, my eyes ablaze with fury as I confront him head-on. ”Get your fucking hands off my wife!” I say, removing the safety and cocking it back. That one little clicking sound seems to grab his attention, pretty damn quickly.”If you have the balls to touch what”s mine again, I”ll rip your damn hands off and proudly display them as my trophy.”
Peter”s face goes pale, finally realizing how much he”s fucked up. His grip loosens, allowing Mia to pull free from his grip and move back to my side.
“I-I didn”t mean any disrespect to you, Don Morelli,” he stutters.
The touch of gentle fingers slides over my arm, a touch I recognize all too well. It”s the touch that brings a rare moment of solace in this fucked up world. My gaze follows Mia”s hand, tracing the path where Peter”s hand once was, and I can see the faint red marks he left on her creamy skin.
Despite the tension in the air and my gun still pointed at Peter, with Dario, Daren, Yusuf, and now Enzo standing behind him, Mia manages to offer a small smile. But it doesn”t reach her eyes, her way of telling me that she”s okay, despite the shittysituation. Peter may be a prick, but I won”t hurt Mia by killing him. Instead, I aim and shoot the plate right in front of him. The loud bang echoes through the room, and food splatters up the front of him. Then, in one step, I close the distance between us, my gun pointed right between his eyes.
”She’s the only reason you and that,” I point my gun directly at the Bride of Chucky, then back at him, ”get to live another day. But if you ever touch Mia again, I”ll fucking kill you with my bare hands. Understand? She’s my wife and belongs to only me!”
My hold on Mia”s hand tightens like a vice as we walk out of this shithole, leaving Peter and Karen in our wake. Mia”s eyes betray her relief, her fingers practically clawing into mine, like I might let her hand go, as we step into the cold night air. The thought of Mia being raised under Peter”s thumb makes my stomach churn with dread.
The dinner table showdown is just a small taste of the hell Mia suffered under Peter’s control. Growing up in my father”s shadow, I know the harsh realities of our lifestyle. But to see such brutality within our own fucking family is a bitter pill to swallow.
It”s a stark reminder that even the ones closest to us can be the motherfuckers to stab us the deepest. And I sure as hell won”t tolerate it. Not now, not ever.
Dad’s smug grin speaks volumes as he and Aldo follow behind us. Damnit, I almost forgot he was in there, probably just enjoying the show. But I have this under control; I sure as hell don”t need his help right now. He was the one who taught me always to protect what”s yours, and tonight, I had to do just that for Mia––against her own father.