Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
clay
Saturday mornings usually unfold with my sweet girl pinned beneath me—an unhurried claim—followed by a plunge in the heated pool with my boys, while Maggie, our cook, assembles breakfast on the veranda. It’s our tradition, routine, sun-drenched, easy. Domesticated… perhaps.
But not today. Today, I’m at my desk, eyes scanning the draft security plan for the wedding, mind running contingencies, the pool a distant priority.
After two hours, I’ve had enough for the morning.
Leaning back in my chair, I exhale, my mind drifting to her.
I know she wasn’t convinced by what I said this morning.
I should have spanked her, kept her panting, left her wrung out and shaky until the only thing on her mind was how to keep from limping through the mansion, but here I am, focused on security and the Family.
‘This is supposed to be fun, Sir.’
Christ. The memory of my little deer’s words causes me to clench my teeth. I pick up my mobile and text Bronson.
Clay: Take Fawn out today for… fun.
Bronson: Fun is my middle name.
Clay: As long as you remember your last name and what it means. You will take eight members of security with you, and you will call each place you visit ahead of time.
Bronson: Aye, aye, Captain.
I’m going to regret this.
I set my phone on the desk.
But I want everything for her—even fun. Her insecurities run deep through her sweet young heart that was never loved.
The scars from decades of deceit will not simply pale, so I will spend the rest of my life making sure she feels seen, heard, safe, and entitled to every fucking thing I can offer her. Which is—the world.
I want her mouth and mind spoilt, want her wardrobe full of frivolous, lavish things. I want her as needy, greedy, and entitled as her tight, wet pussy has become.
My desk phone rings—a landline call.
Interesting.
I pick up the receiver, and a scratchy, familiar Italian voice crackles down the phone. “I will be there, my boy,” Alceu announces. “As is proper.”
My palm flattens to the table as I recline in my seat again, glimpsing blonde hair drifting from behind the doorframe.
Hello, little deer.
Hiding and listening.
Such a nosy little thing.
“I expected as much,” I say smoothly. I have respect for this man, the Don of the Cosa Nostra in Sicily—oldest and purest blood of the Five Families. Respect, yes, but now I demand it in return.
“Se?” His tone bristles. “You do?”
Once, I would’ve advised he needn’t come.
Out of esteem, out of politeness, out of courtesy for his age; his final years are nigh.
Now, I reply evenly, “Times have changed. You are required to attend my wedding. We will fly the entire Family here on my private plane, hire security, and provide accommodation.”
“Large words, my boy.”
Indeed.
I let my gaze drop to her shadow cast on the marble floor outside my office. I am acutely aware of what I say here—what my nosy sweet girl hears. Though I want no secrets, it is my responsibility to protect her from concern.
Concern is my job.
Hers is to be pretty. Handle my evil. Swell with my children. Remind me that sweet, innocent things can grow around darkness, a flower curling through stone, bringing life and vulnerability to hard, immovable structures like me.
“What I’m building in the District is a real foundation,” I say. “The previous administration failed to do this.” I pause, and let the silence hang for a heartbeat, meaning thread through every lingering moment: Jimmy failed you.
“You sound like a politician.” He laughs as thin as Jimmy Storm’s fucking claim to my city.
“That’s exactly what I was raised to be,” I say, voice steady, jaw tight, eyes on a pretty shadow.
Alceu lowers his voice, a hush more threat than comfort. “You are the Don in the District because you married Jimmy’s daugh—”
“No.” The word slices through the air. I interrupted Alceu.
Have I done that before? Would I have dared?
Christ. “I am the Cosa Nostra because I am Luca Butcher’s eldest son.
” The phone cuts into my grip, betraying my voice that remains smooth and controlled.
“Jimmy Storm left no heir, no grandson. I’m tired of trading on his name as if it were my blood.
I am a Butcher—of Lucchese blood. My father may have changed his surname, but changing a name does not change what courses through my veins.
Perhaps I forgot that.” I click my tongue. “Perhaps you did.”
“Careful, my boy.” His tone warns.
“We are past careful.” I say, and the shadow outside hiccups a gasp. “Storm’s legacy in the District is over.”
Cutting ties with Aurora was the final nail.
“You loved Aurora, Se?” His silence is jagged, shaped by static and what remains unsaid: what of my ex-wife?
My fingertips rub against stubble as Luna's demanding meow betrays my little spy. In the doorway, Fawn’s shadow frantically shoos and hushes the cat, unaware of how her silhouette gives her away. I can't help but smile.
“I care deeply for that woman,” I confirm.
“She is like a sister to me, Se? I will seek vengeance if anyone were to lay a hand on her. She was given to me as I was given to her, but her father, Jimmy, was always a placeholder, an acting Don until true blood took the seat. I owe no more debts to his name.”
“This girl has changed you,” Alceu says, cold, disappointed, perhaps… nervous? But I am not threatening him; I am educating him.
Fawn’s shadow makes a little waving gesture at Luna, causing the silly fluffy creature to meow with more adamant demand.
Domesticated, indeed.
“This girl…” I drag the word girl, and the pretty little shadow freezes, presuming whom I speak of.
“Has shown me who I am,” I finish. “She severed my ties to Jimmy Storm’s ghost. Fawn has already given me two sons at only nineteen; my line, my legacy is real.
I will have many children. My sons and daughters will be unstoppable.
No one will ever question the leadership of the Cosa Nostra in the District again. ”
He pauses, then says, “We will all be there, my boy.”
“It would be an insult to me”—I declare, reclining to glimpse the tip of pink-painted toes around the doorframe—“and my perfect bride if you did not attend.”
I let the words land, calm, cold, and precise.
Alceu clears his throat. “I agree.”
“I will see you in four months.” I hang up. The quick shuffling away of a nosy little deer and her fluffy white pussy are the only sounds left.