Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Leon
Over the last couple of days my father found ten potential candidates.
He did most of the searching himself, only coming to me for approval since he had my requirements to work with.
And after my torturous night of drinking and desire, I knew it was unwise to wait any longer before proceeding.
Since he has all of the best connections, Dad did all of the contacting himself, reaching out to mafia family after mafia family and inviting daughters to my home to see who might be a good fit.
Given the unusual way of conducting a marriage match, we needed to make plenty of assurances and hammer out logistics to make the process smooth.
Each woman was allowed to bring security, with a maximum limit of five men—either related to or working for their fathers.
They were free to reject the offer of coming, of course, but not a single one did.
We decided to do the “interviews” in two different time slots.
The first five in the beginning of the afternoon, and the second group of five closer to the evening.
The first five went well enough, of course.
Each of the women were kind, spoke the languages I needed, and seemed to be keen on becoming stepmothers.
The best candidate even spoke to Leo while he colored in the sitting room that we set up as a waiting area, my son being too sociable to be dissuaded from exploring the space filled with new faces.
It seemed like most of the women weren’t sure if they should interact with him, but Gabbie Stone wasn’t shying away from my boy.
The twenty-four year old went to Empire with a few of my brothers, and was even there for Jade’s first and only semester.
She speaks fluent Italian, despite being the heir to The Lost Reapers—an American motorcycle gang that we have a peace treaty with.
She’s beautiful, yes. With dark hair, tan skin, and deep green eyes that could almost be mistaken for brown.
And Leo seemed to like her chitchat enough, but she’s an heir.
A female heir is uncommon, but not unprecedented.
Her responsibility would be split between the Morettis and The Reapers, unless she chose to leave her old life behind entirely.
I get the feeling that it might not be off the table for her completely, to leave her position in favor of an easier—slower—life as a wife and mother in the Moretti Outfit, but her priorities could always be split.
Dad and I agree that she’s one of our top contenders, but we’re waiting for the next group of informal introductions and interviews to kick off before we discuss it further.
I would need Gabbie to make some assurances, and there’s no point in talking it through with her until I look at every possibility.
Rayna is directing the last few women of the second group into the room when I step into the corner hallway to take a deep breath and a drink of water.
Despite only being a few hours in, this day has been about as draining as you’d expect it to be.
Picking a wife is a lot of work when it has anything more to do with logistics than love.
I feel like I’m auditioning actresses for a TV show that will never end, and it’s as exhausting as it is unsettling.
“Ready for this?” Apollo asks, suddenly appearing by my side.
My shoulders lift in a shrug. “As I’ll ever be.”
“You’ll find the right one,” he assures me, unprompted. “You’ll know her when you see her, and if she’s not in this batch, we’ll try again.”
“Just like that, huh?”
“Just like that.”
Reluctantly, I follow Apollo back into the sitting room and my eyes roam over the new batch of women.
All of them are different shades of pretty.
Some with long hair, some with short, some blonde, some brunette, even a redhead.
A few of them are shorter, and one or two are taller than average.
Nothing particular sticks out to me, at least at first. I’m too in my head to really look.
Dad pulls the first woman aside and waves me over to chat, and the process begins all over again. It goes smoothly, even if I’m a bit stiff and unsure. The first two candidates are sweet, albeit nervous, a trait I can hardly fault them for.
If I were a woman in their shoes, I would be nervous as well.
It’s a big thing for plenty of them, not just the prospect of marriage, but the idea that they may be able to help their families in the process.
Many smaller syndicates would benefit greatly from a marriage pact with The Outfit. Some would kill for it, frankly.
But to my relief, none of the women I’ve met today have given me any indication that they’re here against their will, or suffering immense pressure to impress me.
Nothing would turn me off more than knowing I could pick another wife who wants nothing to do with me and is only marrying me because of their family’s demands.
I might not be able to take it—going through that again.
Before my dad and I select a third to talk to, the sound of my child’s laughter catches my ears.
My eyes find him in an instant, swinging to the sound with practiced precision.
Leo is standing right next to a blonde wearing a flowy maroon dress that has long sleeves and looks like it’s made of a casual sundress material.
Bastian is by his side, too, not off hiding like he was earlier.
She may have been one of the nervous looking ones when I first did a sweep of the room, but I can’t recall her features clearly enough to remember. I was rushing, not giving each new face a long enough look to commit them to memory. But if she was nervous before, that trepidation is long gone.
Her lips are spread wide into a pleased smile as she interacts with my boys, and her eyes are lit with obvious joy and amusement—a trait both of my sons seem to be sharing with her.
They’re comfortable, and feel safe enough with her to hang around without needing to rush away quickly.
Leo’s practically attached himself to her.
“Who’s that one?” I ask, discreetly pointing to the woman who has Leo giggling so hard that his body is shaking.
Dad looks across the living room, spotting my line of sight easily and quickly flips open a file from the pile in his hands. “Katya Luká?ová. Just turned twenty-three years old, stepdaughter of Linus Gabris.”
“Ares’ stepsister,” I gather, continuing to stare at her.
Ares Gabris is heir to The Gods, and he went to Empire with some of my younger siblings. The Gods are a Greek mafia that own more casinos and gambling rings than any other syndicate in the states. Our organizations are friendly enough, hence why she was even allowed in my home.
“She’s here with Chloe Contos,” Dad continues, looking down at the paperwork. “Chloe is one of Linus’ men’s daughters. His second-in-command, Nikolas Contos.”
My eyebrows draw in. “She’s here with her as in Katya is not putting herself in the running for the position?”
“Well, she has to be in the running in order to be here.” He hums. “I invited her myself, of course. But I get the idea that she’s a friend of Chloe’s and meant to be here to support her being your choice.
Chloe was hovering around her and looking nervous for a while before she finally gave the girl some space. ”
“Yeah?” I ask, almost wrinkling my nose. “Must be a good friend.”
“The two are connected online and spotted in public together often.”
“If she’s here to be moral support, then why is she the only woman in the room who’s interacting with my children rather than chatting, playing on her phone, or looking around aimlessly?”
We both know that the other young women in the room could be nervous, or even afraid that interacting with the boys isn’t allowed. But they should be able to deduce that if I wanted them away from the women, they wouldn’t even lay eyes on my boys.
It’s not like my sons know I’m auditioning new mothers for them, they just know people are visiting for Daddy’s work and that’s all the explanation they need.
I needed to have them here, in case they immediately disliked any of the prospects, or I got uncomfortable feelings from any of the women directed toward them.
I can’t give them a stepmother who doesn’t like children.
Still, Dad senses something in my question. Interest, probably.
“She’s qualified,” he tells me evenly, though his gaze is almost probing.
“Katya, that is. She’s of Slovakian descent, but she speaks four languages.
Italian, English, Slovak, and Bulgarian.
She’s young, but she’s healthy according to her examination.
And it’s plain to see that she’s bubbly. Leo seems to like her.”
“Leo likes everyone,” I point out as my attention remains fixed on the woman who’s smiling widely at my boys. “It’s Bastian I’m surprised by.”
My oldest son is five now, and he’s yet to really come out of his shell outside of our home.
He’s a shy boy, and quiet—especially around new and unfamiliar faces.
Leo has been good for him. His younger brother may have come from an orphanage after his family passed away at only three years old, but no one would ever guess it.
He’s all sunshine and smiles, and he became that way only days after settling into his new home.
I still remember my brother Cassio calling me to come get him, and later on telling me my son’s story.
Leo’s birth mother abandoned him at a hospital shortly before he ended up at St. Mary’s in New York City, where Cassio and Ana were living at the time.
A British mafia wife who worked as a nurse at the hospital brought him to the orphanage instead of to the police—not wanting him to get shucked into foster care.
The workers at St. Mary’s found out that the birth mother overdosed the day after she left him. They learned that Leo’s biological father died a week before in a car accident, and his wife couldn’t handle it. It was quickly confirmed that Leo had no other living family. And so fate gave him to me.
It felt like fate, at least. A three-year-old blonde boy named Leo who only spoke Italian crossed paths with my brother and his wife, who just happened to volunteer at the right place at the right time. Leo, for Leon and Cleo. It was meant to be, I thought.
I never imagined that bringing the boy into my home meant he would lose a mother for the second time.
At least he seems to be handling it well.
He’s resilient. Maybe even more so than I am.
And he’s been amazing for Bastian. The two boys are inseparable and Leo is always dragging Bastian around with him and helping him become more sociable.
“He’s not exactly lightning up like Leo but he’s smiling,” Dad agrees, nodding. “Do you want to talk to her?”
“No,” I deny stiffly. “Send Rayna and Apollo over there. See if she speaks Italian well enough and if they like her. I’ll talk to her if they do.”
Dad lifts a brow. “You want to test her?”
“Apollo is more skeptical than I am, and Rayna is a better judge of character. I want to see what they say first. She could just be smarter than the others, interacting with the kids to get my attention.”
“You didn’t think that about Gabbie,” Dad points out, looking amused. “You’re drawn to this one and you’re doubting your instincts.”
I open my mouth to argue and he holds up a hand to stop me.
“I’ll tell Apollo and Rayna to speak with her casually, but I don’t think you need to worry. From everything we researched, she’s a good girl. She spends time with her little sister often, volunteers, and no one has had a bad word to say against her.”
That’s good to know, at least.
While my father sends my brother and his wife to do my bidding, I watch the rest of the room with curious eyes.
Chloe, the woman Katya came with, looks lost and nervous as she goes back and forth from fidgeting in her seat to pacing around one side of the room.
She’s not any more obvious about her clear nerves than any of the other more anxious candidates, and I don’t judge her for it.
Still, nothing draws me to her. She’s beautiful, sure, but not someone I would spot in a crowd and want to bring myself closer to.
Looks aren’t everything to me, as cliche as it sounds.
Energy does a lot for me, I think. Some people might think that’s bullshit, but if you’ve ever met a magnetic person, you’d know otherwise.
Someone who draws you in just with what they radiate.
And right now, my gaze keeps being pulled toward Katya Luká?ová. I can’t get a good view of her as Apollo and Rayna stand in front of her, but the glimpses I catch as she speaks to them and my children, they’re good glimpses.
For the first time in weeks, I think I might be experiencing some relief.