Chapter Twenty-three
Lorenzo
“I don’t want to spend Christmas in some creepy mansion with Russian mafia,” she hisses at me, folding her arms like that might shield her from the idea.
I exhale slowly, already knowing this wouldn’t be easy.
“It’s not like that,” I say, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Kirill and Reina are family. Kirill was the only father figure I had for years. Until mine. . . well.” I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t have to.
It’s a low blow, using my own scars to convince her, and I’m aware of it. But Christmas matters. This Christmas matters. I need her with me.
“It will be fun,” I add more softly. “I promise.”
She sighs, the fight draining from her shoulders. “I don’t even know those people. Christmas is supposed to be about family.”
I step closer and take her hands in mine, grounding us both. “You will be surrounded by family,” I tell her. “Clara, Sienna, and Kylie are coming. Andres and Lev too.”
She gives me that look. The one that says they’re your family, not mine. Referring to Andres and Lev. But I’ve seen the way she laughs with them, the way she relaxes when they’re around. She’s already woven herself into us, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
“The only people you don’t know are Kirill, Reina, and their daughters,” I continue. “And it’s important to me that you meet them.”
That part is true. What I don’t say is everything else.
That the Camorra capo will be there. That Dante hinted this Christmas dinner isn’t just about celebration but leverage.
That Luciano’s problems with the Camorra could become my opportunity.
That the safest place for Serena is not behind walls and guards, but at my side, where I can see her, protect her, breathe the same air.
Leaving her alone, even with my security, makes my skin crawl.
She hesitates, then sighs again. “Now I have to buy them presents. What do they even like?” she asks, already worrying about other people instead of herself.
I can’t help it. I laugh.
This woman will ruin me in the best way.
“Oh my God,” she suddenly gasps, checking the time. “It’s already ten in the morning. We’re supposed to be there by six. Everything is closed. How am I supposed to show up without bringing anything?”
“I already took care of everything,” I lie smoothly.
They don’t need gifts. Kirill made that very clear. He wants presence, unity, visibility. He wants her there. He wants us there.
And yes, part of me imagines the worst. A bomb. A betrayal. Blood on marble floors. Christmas turning red.
But that’s my world. And if she’s going to stand beside me in it, I won’t let her do it unprepared.
“Just let the girls know,” I tell her. “I’ll arrange for everyone to be picked up.”
I press a kiss to her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her blush.
“Oh no. They’ll come here and we’ll leave together. Sienna can drive us there,” she says.
I understand immediately. She wants her friends with her, a buffer between my world and hers. I can work with that.
“Fine,” I tell her. “I’ll be right behind her car. She can come here first, and then we’ll all leave to Kirill’s mansion together.” I keep my tone steady, reassuring. I am doing everything I can to make her feel safe. I am asking her to step into my world, and I know what that costs her.
She has not said she forgives me. But she has told me she loves me.
It happened during sex. I asked her to say it. Those are details. What matters is that she loves me.
“Is Julian coming too?” she asks. I lift a brow before I can stop myself.
Why would she care if another man is coming?
She rolls her eyes. “Julian is Clara’s brother. There’s really no need to escalate to homicide.”
Right. Julian. Clara’s brother. Lev’s best friend.
“Of course my mind goes to murder when you say another man’s name,” I say, amused, giving her a wink. “Jealousy isn’t something I’m shy about.”
She exhales, unimpressed. “Anyway, ignoring this. I need you to keep Lev in check.”
I raise a brow. “And why is that?”
“You have noticed how strange he is around Clara,” she says, irritation sharpening her voice. “If Julian is there, I do not want Lev making them uncomfortable.”
I laugh quietly. “You do know Julian is Lev’s best friend, right?”
Her cheeks flush. “I know,” she snaps, though the color betrays her. She did not know for sure. “But I do not know if Julian knows how obsessed his best friend is with his sister. And I do not want Clara to feel uncomfortable. She is different.”
My expression softens despite myself.
She is right. Clara is different. Not because of Lev, but because of what she carries. Because of her role in Thomas’s death.
“I will take care of it,” I tell her, pulling her closer by the waist. “I promise.”
I kiss her forehead, slow and deliberate.
“All right. Then I will go to. . .” She stops mid-sentence. “Oh.”
Panic hits me instantly. “Is everything okay?”
She smiles softly and guides my hand to her stomach.
The babies are kicking again.
My chest tightens so sharply it almost hurts.
The first time I felt them was during her nightmare, when fear had wrapped itself around both of us.
Since then, I have been afraid to touch her there.
Afraid of losing her. Afraid of how much I already love these children.
Afraid of what it would do to me if she never forgives me.
I stroke her stomach carefully, reverently. She looks at me with unguarded happiness.
I want this moment to last forever.
“Have you thought about names?” I ask quietly.
We know now. A son and a daughter. She found out after her birthday, and she cried in my arms, saying she had always dreamed of having one of each.
“Yes,” she whispers. “I want to name her Celeste.”
The name sounds like a prayer when she says it.
“And you can choose the boy’s name,” she adds, her cheeks coloring again. “If you want to.”
“Celeste,” I repeat. “It is beautiful.”
I smile, trying to keep the ache from my voice. “I do not think I can compete with your taste. How about this? You choose the first names, and I choose the middle names.”
Her face lights up. “That is perfect,” she says, delighted. I cannot look away from her. I cannot stop smiling. “I was afraid you might choose something awful. No offence.”
“None taken,” I reply, laughing.
“I want the boy’s name to be Maddox,” she says softly. “I do not know why. It just feels right.”
I lift her chin, so she is looking directly at me. “Perfect.” I tell her.
The names are beautiful. She is the one who is perfect.
“All right,” she says, slipping away from me. “Time to get ready. I will call the girls and tell them to be here at five. Then we will leave together. See you.”
She heads upstairs, the dogs immediately following her.
“Wait,” she calls out suddenly.
“Yes?” I ask, already knowing.
“Can we bring the dogs too?”
I smile to myself. I had expected this. That is why I already told Kirill that Milkshake and Pancake would be joining us.
“Only if you do not dress them in ridiculous Christmas outfits,” I say. “They have a reputation to maintain.”
She gives me a look. “Not on Christmas,” she calls back, already walking away. “Come on, my little ones. It is time to try your Christmas jumpers.”
I shake my head, still smiling.
Ding.
I glance at my phone. Dante.
Of course.
Dante: Do not forget to imply that Luciano does not distribute the shipments fairly. There is no equality. The guns you supposedly provide to Camorra, Luciano keeps the top-tier weapons for himself and gives them garbage.
ME: I do not supply Camorra. I have never done business with them.
Dante: Paolo doesn’t know that. He’s there to get better guns from the Bratva. Tell him you already supplied them through Luciano.
Dante: He’ll be surprised by Luciano’s greed. He’ll start backing off. Slowly.
ME: Fine. What else?
Dante: The heroin. Tell them you’ll supply it from the Colombians. They’ve been complaining about Luciano’s heroin for months.
ME: Anything else?
Dante: Invest in his new Casino.
ME: I’ll let you know how it goes.
Dante: This is important. Don’t screw it. He’s a key ally.
ME: Like emoji.
Fuck. Today needs to go exactly as planned.
I need to cause havoc inside Cosa Nostra. I need to fracture loyalties, peel Luciano’s allies away from him one by one, and make them mine. I need to dismantle him carefully, strategically, until there’s nothing left but the mess he created and the power he never deserved.
And I also need to give Serena the best Christmas of her life.
At least that is the one thing I can offer her after she was kidnapped and locked in a basement for three fucking months.
For the last three hours, my mind has been split in two directions. One part of me has been rehearsing Luciano’s end. How long I will take. How slowly I will strip him of everything he thinks makes him untouchable. How satisfying it will be to finally break him.
The other part of me has been thinking about forgiveness.
How I will spend the rest of my life earning Serena’s.
How I will prove, day after day, that I can be more than the monster she knows I am capable of being.
How I will be a father to my son, Maddox, even though I have no idea what a good father truly looks like.
How I will protect my daughter, Celeste, from a world that chews innocence alive and spits it back out twisted.
I think about what this life will mean for them.
Serena comes from money, from polished dinners and quiet expectations. My blood runs through Cosa Nostra. My work ties me to the Bratva. Violence is not an accident in my world. It’s infrastructure.
I know what the outcome will be once Luciano is gone. I know that one day, my son will inherit everything I’ve built. Everything I’ve stained with blood.
But I force myself to stop there.
He hasn’t even been born yet.
Loud knocks echo through the house, pulling me out of my thoughts. Bianca would usually be the one answering the door, but she went to Florence to spend Christmas with her daughter. So it’s on me.