16. Alessia
Finn did, in fact, come home last night, this time with some new cuts on his knuckles. Most of the time, when a man in this life says he’s going to “question someone,” it means he’ll be coming home with bloodied hands.
I cleaned the wounds and bandaged him up before drawing us a bath. Something I learned about my husband on our little getaway is his desire to live life and enjoy it to the fullest rather than do nothing but work. He allows himself to take time to relax, which surprises me, considering when we were first married, he was hardly home. I know he was getting things settled at the docks in those first few weeks, and it’s not like I was waiting up for him like I do now. But what he said before going to Atlantic City struck a chord with me. We need to steal moments of time to just be us and enjoy life when we can because there will always be something or someone trying to tear that time away from us.
When I was little, my father was gone more than he was home. It never bothered me, I was too young to know any different, but I saw the look in my mother’s eyes after my father was away for a couple days and the phone would ring. She never knew if it was the call that he was on his way or that he was never coming back again.
Then, when Gio died, he was gone even more. I was nineteen when it happened, and it was right after being beaten by Orlando and losing the pregnancy. I’ll never forget the wail that fell from my mother’s lips when my father told her Gio was dead. It was as though her soul was shattering right before our eyes. She lay in bed for weeks, completely inconsolable. My father was gone all of the time, leaving us to grieve on our own.
Finally, when he came home one night, she was up and waiting for him in the library. I was in the kitchen getting a glass of water when I heard her laying into him, telling him he needed to realize he had a daughter and a wife who needed him here. She’d let it slide when we were younger, but that was over. If he didn’t start coming home every night and being with his family so we could heal from our loss together, then she was leaving. I doubt she actually would have, though. She loved him too much—not to mention the church and just about everyone in our life frowns upon divorce.
When I silently crept to peek into the library, I saw my parents embracing, tears falling from both of their eyes.
“I’m sorry, Lilliana. I don’t know how to handle this. He’s our son and he’s not coming home. I-I—”
“Shh. I know. But you have a daughter who needs you and a wife who is falling apart without you. We need you here, Mario.”
I went back up to my room, feeling like I was prying on a private moment between my parents. I cried myself to sleep that night like I had done every night since Gio was killed. But when I woke the next morning, my father was still home, and he never spent another night out of the house.
Of course, that meant his men came to our home much more frequently, but by that point, I was on my way back to college. Every night when I’d call my mother to check in in the months following Gio’s death, I would hear my father’s voice in the background, and as the weeks wore on, we all eventually found a new routine.
From that night in the library forward, my father was a changed man. His priority became my mother and me, even offering me a job in one of his real estate development companies when I graduated with my MBA. Of course, it was mostly a front for moving his money around from other less-than-legal gains, but he wanted to keep me close and give me purpose. And I wanted to make him proud. I knew I was never going to be allowed to rise to the top like Gio would have, but I was a part of this family. My father made sure I knew how much he appreciated my dedication and having someone in my position whom he shared unwavering trust with. Not exactly easy to come by.
I shake myself from my thoughts and look at my husband with a glass of whiskey in one hand and his head tilted back.
“Can I help?” I ask, relaxing on the opposite side of the large bathtub as I run a comforting hand along Finn’s leg under the water.
Finn’s gaze travels to mine, and he smiles. “This shit with not knowing what Cataldi is doing or where he’s hiding is fucking with me. Being here with you and having you take care of me is helping, though.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You bandaged me up.” He raises his hand to show me the proof.
“I just didn’t want you getting blood on the furniture,” I reply, shrugging my damp shoulder.
“You drew a bath for me.”
“That’s because you stink. You needed the wash.”
Finn barks out a laugh, the tension in his face melting a smidge.
“You can deny it all you want, Alessia. I know you like taking care of me just as much as I enjoy taking care of you.”
I don’t answer him, but he’s right. I love being here and doing these little things for Finn. Not that I’ll ever tell him that.
“We’re going to your parents tomorrow for dinner. I need to update your father on what’s been going on.”
“Are you going to let me in on your little meeting? It is my family, too, you know.”
“Actually, yes, that is my plan. I’d appreciate you and your father’s perspectives on some leads we’ve had.”
“Why don’t we talk about it now?”
Finn sets his glass on the side of the bathtub and prowls toward me.
“Because youre naked in here with me, so I’ve formulated a few plans of my own that don’t involve talking unless the words falling from your lips are yes, please, more, and just like that.”
I could argue and insist that figuring out the Cataldi situation is more important, or I can give my husband the stress relief he needs and earn myself a couple orgasms in the process. I think about it for a moment then brush my lips against his, whispering, “Tomorrow it is, then.”
“Piccola demone,” my father greets me with open arms. Finn and I make our way up the stairs, his hand resting on my lower back as he walks beside me. I fall into my father’s embrace with a wide smile. “Hi, Papa.”
My mother stands in the doorway, and I walk over to her, kissing her cheeks. “So good to see you, Mama.”
Her smile is bright as she glances between me and my husband.
“Something has changed, sweetheart. I can see it in the way your husband looks at you.”
“We’ve been getting along,” I say with a light smile, but my mother continues to stare at me, studying my face.
“Oh, I think it’s more than that.” She leans in for another hug and whispers in my ear, “It looks like love.”
My brows are furrowed when we separate, and she turns to greet Finn.
Love? There’s respect and admiration between us, absolutely. There’s an unquenchable desire and a fierce passion, no doubt. But I’ve never considered love until this moment. Sure, there was attraction from the first time we met, that much we’ve admitted, but we weren’t exactly compatible personality-wise. Nearly every word that came out of his mouth irritated the hell out of me, and I doubt he would disagree that I worked hard on getting on his last nerve. What would it take for two people who started the way Finn and I did to fall in love?
My parents walk into the house while I’m left standing on the front porch, still thinking about the words my mother whispered.
Finn catches my gaze with a concerned one of his own. “You okay?”
I stare at him for a brief moment, trying to find in his eyes what my mother saw. I see concern for my momentary lack of ability to form words, but other than that, I have no idea what she’s talking about. He’s looking at me like he always does.
Shaking my head, I let out a quiet chuckle. “Fine.” I tilt my head up for a kiss and he doesn’t leave me waiting, softly brushing his lips against mine.
We turn toward the front door, my arm looped in his when he asks, “What does piccola demone mean?”
“Little demon,” I reply with a fond smile. “My father’s been calling me that since I was little.”
Finn chuckles then bends to kiss the top of my head. “Fitting.”
I laugh but don’t say anything. It’s not as though I can deny it, and he wouldn’t believe me if I tried. After these past several weeks, Finn has become well acquainted with who I am and vice versa. Even if he could change it, I have a sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t.
After finishing the exquisite meal my parents’ cook prepared, Finn leans back in his chair and rests his hand on his stomach.
“That was absolutely delicious. Maybe your cook would be inclined to teach Alessia how to prepare some of her recipes,” he says, smiling at my mother.
“What do you mean? Alessia’s been cooking with her since she was, I don’t know, eight, maybe? Remember when she wanted to open her own restaurant, Mario?” My mother looks at my father with a warm smile. “Honestly, we were both surprised when she went to college for finance instead of culinary school.”
Finn’s eyes shoot to me. “You said you couldn’t cook.”
“No,” I correct. “I said you had two hands and could fend for yourself. I never said I couldn’t. Besides, its been years since I made a full-course meal like this one.”
“You could give it a shot,” Finn murmurs, taking a sip of his wine.
“I could do a lot of things. I’m also quite adept at carving meat. Would you care to see my knife skills, husband?”
Finn shakes his head with a smirk playing on the corner of his lips. “Little demon is right.”
I shrug and sip my wine as Finn turns to my father. “We should talk about a few things before Alessia and I head home, Mario. There’s been some new developments.”
My father nods, and my mother rises from the table, grabbing the plates to take to the kitchen. We have staff for this kind of thing, but whenever business conversations come up, she takes her leave. It’s not that my father hides things from her; it’s that she’s not the type of wife to involve herself in the business. She’s perfectly happy hosting parties and being a mother and wife to the head of a family, but that’s where her involvement ends. Unlike me, who’s been involved in a lot of what goes on in my father’s illegal pursuits since working for one of his companies. He was always honest about what my job truly entailed. It never bothered either of us that I knew most of the details of his business, which is far from common in other families. My mother has her way of contributing to this life, and I have mine.
The three of us make our way into the study where I first met Finn. We’ve come a long way since that night and still have a long way to go. But instead of fear of the unknown, I’m walking in here happier than I ever remember being in my life.
Finn and my father have a seat on the couches facing each other while I pour us three glasses of whiskey and hand one to my father then my husband before sitting next to him. It’s so different from where we were positioned barely a month ago.
“Cataldi has been seen in both of our territories,” Finn tells my father. “We still don’t know where exactly he’s been hiding, but we have a feeling he’s planning something. It looks to us like he’s trying to drum up support. Many of his father’s capos knew about his side of the business,” Finn says, referring to the sex trafficking Carlo’s been facilitating through the ports. “And my source tells me they aren’t happy about it. Not all, but most of the men in the Cataldi organization don’t agree with what Carlo’s been doing or the fact his father was turning a blind eye to it. There’s been infighting about who is going to take over Francesco’s territory since he went to prison. Some think they should stay loyal to Carlo, while others want to move in a different direction. It’s the perfect time for our families to move in on all the Cataldi businesses, not just the ports. I think it’s time the Cataldi organization answers to a new boss, and it isn’t Carlo.”
My father absorbs his words and blows out a long breath. “You’re talking about a war. That can get expensive and bloody.”
Finn nods. “If we’re going to act, the time is now. Their organization is in tatters, and we think he may be trying to find support with the Farinas.”
My head whips toward Finn, and my father’s eyes widen for a moment before he schools his expression.
“Why do you think that?” I ask.
“He was spotted near your border at a bar meeting with Orlando. It would make sense that he’s trying to find allies somewhere, and since the only other family in Massachusetts is your father’s, Farina is the only viable option. I also know that Orlando was visiting Carlo at his home often before his father was convicted.”
“How do you know that?” my father asks.
Finn looks between the two of us and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I have an inside man in the Cataldi organization. He’s made it possible to get information we wouldn’t otherwise have. It sounds like Orlando and Carlo were planning on uniting two families to be the driving force of the Massachusetts criminal world.”
My father and I look at each other when he mentions Orlando again.
Finn catches the look between us, studying the expressions on our faces. “What aren’t you telling me?”
My father holds my gaze and nods his head, prompting me to be completely transparent with my husband.
“Do you remember when I told you I was in a relationship and he beat me?”
Finn nods, his jaw ticcing as he waits for me to continue.
“It was Orlando.”
Finn’s eyes stay glued to mine as he studies me intently. “There’s more you’re not telling me, Alessia. I knew, when we were in Atlantic City, you were keeping his name a secret for a reason. There’s more to the story.”
My eyes close and I tilt my head down toward my wringing hands resting on my lap. I need to get it out. Finn needs the truth about the entire situation and Gio’s death.
“I was pregnant. He didn’t believe me and beat me so badly I miscarried,” I whisper before clearing my throat and meeting my husband’s gaze. “I called my brother, and he took me home to his house. My mother was on a holiday visiting her parents in Italy, so Gio called my father. He had a doctor come to his apartment to treat me since I refused to go to the hospital. I told them everything. After sitting with me night and day until I was on a steady road to recovery, Gio left to handle Orlando. My brother beat him to bloody hell and could have killed him, but Gio knew that would have started a war between our families. He came home and told me he took care of Orlando. When I asked if he was still alive, Gio assured me he hadn’t taken it that far, but he was a bloody mess, so I’m sure Orlando didn’t fare too well. Then, two days later, he was dead, stabbed in a ‘mugging’ outside of a bar he frequented often. It was too coincidental, him being murdered right after beating Orlando. Orlando is a vindictive son of a bitch, and I knew, in my gut, he was responsible for Gio’s death. Not to mention, everyone knew my brother and knew who our father was. No one would’ve had the balls to kill him, knowing the hell that would rain down on them. The only people who knew what Orlando had done were my father and I. And until that point, the only people who knew Orlando and I were involved were Gemma and Enzo. My father called Massimo Farina and accused Orlando of killing Gio. Of course, Orlando denied it.”
I take a deep breath, and thankfully, my father fills Finn in on the rest of the story since he was the one who spoke to Orlando’s father.
“Massimo said Gio nearly killed Orlando and implied maybe Gio had made some dangerous enemies. But I knew that was bullshit. Everyone loved Gio. He had a way about him that made people gravitate toward him. The only enemy he had was Orlando Farina.” My father squeezes his eyes shut, the pain of losing his son evident on his face. He clears his throat and opens his eyes before continuing. “I explained to him who his son was and what he did to my daughter, but he felt that it was between a man and his woman. Said his son told him she was cheating on him and there was no way he could have gotten her pregnant. He said if any harm came to his son, then Alessia would be next.” His gaze travels to me for a moment then back to my husband’s. “It was the first time in my life I had to choose between being the boss and my only remaining child. I couldn’t let my wife lose her daughter because I wanted revenge for our son’s death. I couldn’t lose her, and I knew Massimo would make good on his threat. I love my daughter more than the air I breathe, and I wasn’t going to risk her life. I couldn’t. In the end, I made Massimo give me his word that he would keep Orlando away from Alessia and stay out of Amatto territory.”
“That motherfucker was at our wedding!” Finn booms, losing the last thread of his composure. “He spoke to my wife. Touched her right in front of everyone there.” Finn shoots from his seat with his fists clenched at his side. “How could you invite that piece of shit to be anywhere near your daughter?”
To my recollection, no one has ever spoken to my father the way Finn is, especially in his own house. I’m equally shocked and impressed at the level of composure my father has right now as Finn looks ready to tear this room apart in a rage.
“It’s the way we’ve done business for generations. We keep polite and friendly appearances in the faces of our worst enemies while plotting to stab them in the back. And make no mistake, the Farinas are my enemy. I had no proof that Gio was murdered by Orlando, and too many men in this world think the same way as that piece of shit’s father. That what happens between a man and his woman is private and no one should involve themselves, even when he beats her. But there was no doubt that when the time was right, I’d make Orlando pay.”
Finn walks back over to the couch and stands behind me, placing his strong hand on my shoulder. “You had your chance, Mario. I understand you were backed into a corner and wanted to protect Alessia’s life. I respect the choice you made, but he’s still breathing. We’ll handle this my way now, and I have no intention of my knife going into his back. He’ll look me in the eyes and know I’m the one ending his miserable existence.”