15. Chapter Fifteen Dante
Chapter Fifteen: Dante
M y mom had invited us to dinner.
I really, really didn’t want to go...I didn’t want to leave Jade alone. But I had no good excuses, and I didn’t dare not to go when my Mom invited us to dinner because I didn’t want her to kill me–if she didn’t do it with a wooden spoon or through my father’s punishing hand (because he might not beat me up anymore but he definitely knew how to scare me)–she would do it with a guilt trip that could make the most seasoned pilot feel like an absolute rookie.
So after Jade reassured me that she was okay, and she seemed like she wanted to rest, I made my way back to my childhood home in Little Italy.
Marco was already there, though I wasn’t sure where, exactly.
“Hey, Mama,” I said as I gave her a hug. She was in the kitchen, next to a giant pot of marinara. “Sorry I was late. Work.”
“Work? You look terrible,” she said. “You need to work less, sleep more. Did you lose weight?”
She tutted under her breath, circling me like a hawk for a moment before returning to her marinara sauce. “Sit,” she commanded, pointing to the small wooden table that had witnessed countless family dinners over the years.
“I will soon,” I said. “I gotta go find Marco. I think he’s looking a little thin, too.”
“Now that you mention it…he’s upstairs,” she said. “Said he had to wash up. Ask your brother why he won’t sell his apartment if he’s just going to stay here, please.”
“Yes, Mama,” I replied obediently, certain I was going to ask Marco no such thing.
I climbed up the stairs, each step creaking under my weight just like when I was a boy sneaking out past curfew. At the top, I walked down to the end of the hall where our childhood room was. The door was slightly ajar. I knocked lightly on the door to alert him of my presence.
He was sitting on the bed, his hair wet, a towel next to him.
“I didn’t think you would be able to make it,” he said.
“I couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse,” I replied. “Plus, it’ll be nice to have leftovers for the week.”
He nodded, then grinned. “Between us, I could murder some sushi,” he said, then patted his stomach. “I’ve been trying to sneak in some healthier options, but I don’t think I can outrun Mom’s cooking.”
I smiled. Marco looked a bit worse for wear; dark shadows under his eyes, his knuckles scraped.
But he still had his signature smile on his face as he peered at me from his childhood bed.
“Have you ever thought about how lame it is, that with all the money Dad makes, you and I always had to share a bedroom?” he asked as I took a step inside.
“I hadn’t given it much thought,” I replied, studying the room that held a part of my past. “I guess it kept us close.”
“It didn’t,” Marco said, his smile widening into a grin. “Also, Dad would have definitely saved money on the water bill if you weren’t taking like five showers a day when we were fifteen, so I really do think individual bedrooms would have been a good investment for him.”
I snorted, scanning the room for a while before landing my gaze back on him. “I don’t think Dad ever worried about the water bill, Marco.”
“Not when it came to you,” he shot back.
“Yeah, because fifteen might have been rough, but a year later I got a girlfriend. What’s your excuse?”
“Hey, I had a girlfriend,” he said. “She was just…online. And Canadian.”
I shook my head. “That was a man,” I replied. “In his fifties. For sure.”
“Well, he had great tits so…”
“Jesus Christ,” I replied, laughing with him. Marco’s laughter filled the small room, a sound so familiar yet out of place amidst our father’s empire. We laughed until we were gasping for air, our past misdemeanours forgotten for a moment. I walked over to the bed to sit next to him. “I heard you ditched your date when you got jumped.”
“What? No,” Marco said, sounding more offended than confused. “No. She was in on it. I left because she started shouting at them like she knew them and wanted them to stop.”
The light bulb above flickered like a hesitant heartbeat, throwing shadows across the old bedroom where I stood with Marco. The place was a time capsule—model cars and dog-eared comics were strewn about, each a memory we once lived. But there was no more comfort to be had in nostalgia tonight.
“It sucks,” he said. “I really liked her.”
I eyed him, my kid brother—now an adult, which was weird—whose bold stance couldn’t mask the fear I knew gnawed at his gut. A recent brush with death does that to a man, even one made of steel like us Morettis.
“You did?”
“Yeah, she was really nice,” he said. “Not just beautiful, but…sweet. I don’t know.”
“That does suck,” I said. “But you’ll find someone else. Once this all blows over…once you don’t have to be here.”
His eyes met mine, and I saw it—the faint trace of dread he thought he’d buried. No words needed to be spoken; our mother’s safety was on the line. We were raised in the embrace of danger, but this was different. This was too close to home, too close to the heart.
“Yeah, I’ll stay here until I can make absolutely certain no one is watching Mom. I just can’t get over the fact that someone would be foolish enough to go for her. Enzo’s wife? That’s not just a death wish, it’s a…what is it called when someone enjoys pain?”
“Masochism,” I replied, my gaze dropping to the frayed carpet under my feet.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Marco huffed a dry laugh. “Well, whoever they are, they’re a bunch of masochists.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, lost in our thoughts. The air was heavy with the unsaid things between us – fear, anger, uncertainty. But Marco was right; whoever dared to harm our family didn’t know the wrath of Enzo Moretti. They didn’t know the fire that burned within his sons.
“I still can’t believe it,” Marco mumbled, picking at a string on the edge of his faded bedsheet. “I mean... Mom? She’s always been...”
“Untouchable,” I finished for him. Our mother was an enigma wrapped in grace and poise; wife to a mafia don and mother to his heirs, yet somehow removed from the dirt and grime of our world.
“Yeah,” he sighed, his eyes far away. “But I guess we were wrong about that.”
“You being here is good. It helps,” I said. “If they can sense our presence, maybe they’ll back off.”
“Someone’s gotta be the hero, Dante,” Marco shot back. They remained hard, vigilant—mirrors of my own. “If Dad doesn’t know…and if he does know and doesn’t do anything…”
“Always the hero,” I murmured, leaning back to look at the spinning fan. It was always on, though I was never sure why.
“You’re being very flattering for someone who called me useless every day until I was sixteen,” he said.
I smirked. “You’re growing out of it.”
“I should’ve really quit while I was ahead,” he muttered.
“Touché. But this is serious, Marco. I agree. You should stay here,” I found myself murmuring, my voice barely above a whisper as I avoided his gaze, focusing on the scars in the wood.
Marco cocked his head to the side, a familiar skeptical look creasing his brow. “You don’t think dad can?”
The question hung heavy in the air of our childhood room, filled with memories of simpler times when the biggest worry we had was who would win at cards.
“I don’t think Dad knows how much danger she’s in,” I confessed, feeling the weight of the family legacy on my shoulders. My eyes met his again, searching for understanding. “This is our play. I just didn’t expect...I didn’t think it would reach Mom. I would be here too, but…”
My voice trailed off, the unspoken words lingering like ghosts in the dimly lit space. I didn’t need to finish; Marco knew the stakes as well as I did.
“I can’t leave Jade alone,” I said. “Not right now.”
He looked like he was going to ask me a question about it, but he didn’t.
I pushed off the bed, my feet carrying me to the old dresser that had seen better days, just like us. The surface was a mess of nicks and scratches—a map of our childhood mischief. My fingers traced a deep gouge, remembering the day Marco and I had fought over who would take over when the time came.
“Marco,” I started, leaning against the scarred wood, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think you’re right.”
“About?”
“There’s a rat in the ranks. Who would know about Jade? I mean, unless someone has been stalking me or heard it from the family, the truth is that Lorenzo Caruso should have never known about her. Aside from the two of us, and obviously you, no one but Luca knows she’s pregnant. But if the rat leaks that info to Caruso…I don’t even want to think about what that would mean.” The words felt like acid on my tongue. “Someone’s playing both sides, and it’s fraying the family threads.”
He stayed seated on the bed, watching me with those damn loyal eyes of his. Eyes that screamed family over everything. “You can’t mean—“
“Blood or not, we’ve got a traitor,” I cut in, pacing the room that suddenly felt too small for the both of us. “And we need to clean house before they tear down everything Enzo has built.”
“Dad wouldn’t let that happen.” Marco’s voice was firm, but I saw the flicker of doubt. He knew, just as I did, that Enzo’s grip wasn’t as ironclad as it used to be. That was one of the reasons I’d been so insistent on this whole biotech thing.
“Enzo is thinking like the old Don he is, living in the past where loyalty meant something,” I said, pausing mid-stride. “But times are changing. Ambitions are growing, especially with my...plans.”
“Your plans,” he echoed, standing up slowly. “You mean the expansion? Not everyone’s on board, Dante. You know that.”
“Exactly.” I stopped pacing and faced him squarely. “That’s why I need you with me on this, Marco. We have to act now, covertly, or watch the Moretti empire crumble from the inside out.”
The tension hung between us, thick enough to slice through. This was more than just family; this was survival. And Marco, with his stubborn sense of duty, couldn’t turn away from that. Not even if he wanted to.
The silence stretched between us, broken only by the distant sounds of Little Italy. I watched Marco’s face, searching for a sign, any clue to what he was thinking. But his expression was as closed off as the safe in Enzo’s office.
“Alright,” he finally said, voice low. “What do you need from me?”
I nodded, feeling the weight of leadership settle on my shoulders. “Keep your eyes open. Trust no one. And for God’s sake, don’t mention Jade.”
“I wasn’t planning on it, but he’s going to find out, Dante,” Marco said. “And if he finds out your girlfriend is pregnant from someone else, before you tell him…I don’t even want to know what’ll happen.”
He was right. Neither did I.