Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
PIETRO
The car feels too small with everything unsaid between us. I start the engine while Nora buckles in.
I dial Lorenzo before pulling out of the parking spot. He answers on the second ring.
"Pietro? Everything okay?"
"I found the leak."
Silence. Then, "Who?"
"Tony."
"Tony? That's not—" Lorenzo stops himself. "Where are you?"
"Leaving Gino's. I need you and Nico. Now."
"Come to Arancini. Back room. I'll call Nico."
"Twenty minutes."
"Pietro, is Tony—"
"Alive. For now. It's complicated."
I end the call and merge into traffic.
"What happened to Riccardo?" Nora's question comes soft but direct.
My hands tighten on the wheel. The memory tries to surface. Blood on marble, screams, Lucrezia in her wedding dress. And I force it back down.
I take a breath, then another. The rage that always comes with Riccardo's name simmers just below the surface.
"Bruno was supposed to marry Lucrezia Feretti."
"The New York family." It's not a question. "My father spoke of them. Old power, older than most families in America."
"You know them?"
"Of them. Connor had dealings with their Brooklyn operations, but I never met them personally. Damiano Feretti runs things now, right?"
I nod. "Damiano took over after their father passed some years ago, his brother Enzo handles enforcement."
"And Lucrezia is Damiano's sister."
"Was supposed to unite our families. Chicago and New York, strongest alliance on the East Coast." The words taste bitter.
"Lucrezia ran away an hour before the wedding." I keep my eyes on the road, not wanting to see Nora's reaction. "With Daniel Hayes, Damiano's head of security."
"She escaped?"
"They'd been together. I don't know their whole story, but she didn't want the marriage."
"I hate these families." Nora's voice carries sharp edges. "Every woman just currency for alliances. Traded like property."
"It wasn't—" I stop. Because it was exactly that. "We needed the bond. The Ferettis control New York's ports. With them as permanent allies, we'd have the entire eastern seaboard locked down. Marriage was the only guarantee they'd always stand with us."
"And she came back?"
"She came. Although I know that she did it to protect Daniel from getting killed. Damiano was hunting them. She looked broken. But the ceremony went ahead."
The memory floods back. The cathedral, flowers everywhere, Lucrezia in white looking like she wanted to die.
"The Volkovs had people inside." I force the words out steady. "Russian mob from Moscow. We'd checked everyone, swept the building twice. But they'd hidden two shooters days before."
Nora stays silent, letting me tell it my way.
"First shot came during the vows. Hit Bruno." I can still hear the crack of the rifle, see Bruno falling. "Daniel Hayes appeared from nowhere. Killed the shooter before anyone else could react."
"He saved Bruno's life."
"We didn't know there were two Russians. No one knew." My voice goes flat. "Riccardo saw Daniel with a gun near Bruno and Lucrezia. Thought he was the threat."
I remember Riccardo's face. Pure rage as he raised his weapon at Daniel.
"Lucrezia threw herself between them. Riccardo's bullet caught her hand instead of Daniel's head." The scene plays out behind my eyes. "That's when the second Russian revealed himself."
"Oh God."
"Single shot. Right through Riccardo's temple." I swallow hard. "He was dead before he hit the floor. The oldest son, the one groomed from birth to lead. Gone in seconds."
The car feels colder somehow.
"Bruno's been in a coma ever since. And Daniel..." I shake my head. "He killed the second Russian."
"And you became Don."
"By default." The admission burns. "I was never supposed to lead. That was Riccardo's destiny, then Bruno's if something happened to Riccardo. I was the spare's spare. The fuck-up middle son who got his best friend killed."
"Pietro—"
"Giuseppe trained Riccardo from childhood. Every lesson, every meeting, every decision. I was the soldier, the one who handled messy problems. Not the one who made strategic choices."
I pull into Arancini's parking lot, killing the engine.
"The family needed leadership." I finally look at her. " Yep. That's me. The wrong brother wearing the crown."
"Wrong brother?" She unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to face me fully. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"
"Nora—"
"No." Her voice cuts through the car like a blade. "You're not the wrong anything. You're just a man who's been through hell and won't let anyone see how much you're bleeding inside."
The words hit harder than any punch.
"You don't understand—"
"I understand perfectly." Her hands ball into fists.
"I've seen enough all this time. Your entire family does this.
Lorenzo buries himself in restaurants and diplomacy.
Nico hides behind hate and strategy. Even Vittoria—she smiles and plays hostess while grieving Riccardo every damn day.
I can't talk about Ava since she is just a ghost walking around. "
"That's not—"
"It's exactly what it is." She's practically vibrating with anger now. "You're all so busy performing as 'men' who can't have feelings that you're drowning in your own silence. God forbid any of you actually talk about the pain instead of just... existing with it."
I hate that she's right. Hate how easily she sees through us .
"That's our life, Nora. That's how we survive."
"No, that's how you slowly die." Her eyes bore into mine. "You're not the wrong brother, Pietro. You're the one who stepped up when everything fell apart. You're the one holding this family together while carrying guilt that isn't even yours."
Something cracks in my chest. Before I can think, I grab her face and crush my mouth to hers. She makes a surprised sound but doesn't pull away. Her lips are soft, warm, real.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"You make me feel..." I struggle for the words. "Human. You make me feel human when I forget I am."
She touches my face, her thumb tracing my jaw. "Because you are human, Pietro. Not just a Don, not just a soldier. A man who's allowed to hurt."
The tenderness in her voice nearly undoes me.
"What happened to Lucrezia?" she asks softly. "After the wedding?"
A laugh escapes me, surprising us both. "She married Daniel."
Nora's eyes widen. "What?"
"We were all furious at first, but..." I shrug. "Daniel saved Bruno's life. Killed both Russians. Proved his loyalty wasn't just to Lucrezia."
"And now?"
"She's pregnant."
A smile spreads across Nora's face, bright and genuine. "Good for them."
She's right. It was the right thing. Lucrezia and Daniel were in love, real love, not some strategic alliance. They chose each other despite everything.
But I won't say that out loud. Can't admit that their happiness makes sense while our world demands cold calculation.
"Damiano still wants our alliance," I say instead. "The marriage was supposed to seal it, but now..."
"Now you have to find another way."
"Or another bride for someone." The words come out bitter.
Nora's hand drops from my face. "Is that what you want?"
"What we want doesn't matter."
"It should."
I look at her, this woman who sees too much, understands too much. Who makes me want things I can't have.
"We should go inside. Lorenzo and Nico are waiting."
She studies me for a long moment, then nods. "This conversation isn't over."
"It never is with you."
"Get used to it." She opens her door. "Someone needs to remind you you're allowed to be human."
I follow her out of the car, watching her walk toward the restaurant with that defiant tilt to her chin.
NORA
The moment we step into Arancini, heaven wraps around me. Garlic and basil dance with a rich aroma of truffle. Fresh bread cooling somewhere nearby. The kind of smells that make you forget you're walking into a mob meeting.
Lorenzo's restaurant breathes warmth where the Sartori estate feels like a fortress. Soft lighting, exposed brick walls, photographs of Sicily covering every surface. This is his kingdom, separate from the violence.
"Pietro." Lorenzo appears. His eyes find mine, soften. "Nora. Good to see you're alright."
"Thanks to your brother." The words slip out before I can stop them.
Something passes between Pietro and Lorenzo. An entire conversation in a single glance. Lorenzo's shoulders relax slightly, and I realize he's been worried. Not about business or territory, but about his brother.
"Come. My office is quieter."
We follow him through the dining room, past tables set for dinner service. The staff nods respectfully but keeps working. They know better than to stare.
Lorenzo's office sits above the kitchen, accessed by a narrow staircase. It's smaller than Pietro's, warmer. Recipe books crowd the shelves between family photos. A desk covered in invoices and supplier contracts. This is a working office, not a statement of power.
I sink into a leather chair that's seen better days but feels like a hug. Pietro remains standing, positioning himself between me and the door. Always protecting, even here.
"Coffee?" Lorenzo asks, already moving toward an espresso machine in the corner.
"Please." I need something normal, something that isn't guns and betrayal and identity crises.
Lorenzo works the machine and no one speaks while he pulls shots, steams milk. The domestic ritual feels sacred in its simplicity.
"They have his grandson." Pietro says.
"Ah." Lorenzo sets a perfect cappuccino in front of me. The foam art is a leaf, delicate and precise. "That explains it."
I watch them, these brothers who grew up in violence but handle it so differently. Pietro burns hot, ready to destroy. Lorenzo absorbs, processes, seeks balance.
"You're not going to argue?" Pietro accepts his espresso, downs it in one shot.
"Would it change anything?" Lorenzo leans against his desk. "Tony betrayed us. The reason doesn't erase the damage."
"But you understand why."
"I understand everything, fratello." There's sadness in Lorenzo's voice. "That's my curse."
The door opens without a knock. Nico enters like a storm cloud, his eyes immediately finding me.
"Sit down, Nico." Pietro says.
"I'll stand."
I meet Nico's stare directly. "I get it."
"You get nothing."
"I'm Connor O'Sullivan's daughter. Or was. I worked in your building while your shipments got hit. If I were you, I'd want me dead too."
"Anyway." Pietro moves closer to my chair. "Tony is the leak. Has been for three months."
Now Nico does sit, dropping into the chair across from me like his strings got cut. "Tony?"
"Declan Wilson has his grandson."
"Fuck. How did we miss this?" Nico asks.
"We were distracted. Riccardo's death, Bruno's coma, the succession. Perfect time to apply pressure."
I watch Lorenzo during this exchange. His face stays neutral, but his eyes... He wants to say something, offer some solution that makes everyone happy. But there isn't one. Tony betrayed them. A child's life hangs in the balance. Someone has to bleed.
It's beautiful and heartbreaking, watching Lorenzo navigate between his brothers' anger and his own need for harmony.
Pietro pulls out his phone, and the temperature in the room shifts.
"Liam. I need you at Tony's by six." His voice drops an octave, all business and barely contained violence. "Take four men. Quiet extraction. He is informed."
I shouldn't find this attractive. The way he commands, how his shoulders straighten and his jaw sets.
But my body doesn't care about shoulds. It remembers those same hands that sign death warrants gripping my hips last night.
That voice giving orders now is the same one that growled my name when he—
"Eight more at the warehouse. Full tactical." Pietro paces, each step deliberate.
His forearms flex as he grips the phone. The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up, exposing corded muscle and that tattoo that peeks out. I know what's under that shirt. Know how those muscles feel under my fingernails when he's driving into me.
Lorenzo clears his throat, but I barely hear it.
I'm too busy watching Pietro's fingers drum against his thigh.
Those fingers that know exactly where to touch, how to make me beg.
Christ, what is wrong with me? A child's life is at stake and I'm sitting here getting wet watching Pietro plan an extraction.
"One more thing. Put more eyes on Connor O'Sullivan."
My stomach flips at my father's name. But even that can't kill the heat building low in my belly. Because Pietro glances at me when he says it, checking my reaction, and catches me staring at his arms.
Our eyes meet. His darken, recognizing the look on my face. He knows exactly what I'm thinking. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and I watch him fight for control. We're in his brother's office, planning a rescue mission, and I'm looking at him like I want to climb him like a tree.
My cheeks burn. I drop my gaze to my cappuccino, but it's too late. He's seen the hunger I couldn't hide.
"Get it done." Pietro ends the call, his voice rougher now.
"The timeline." Pietro says as he tears his gaze away from me, and I can breathe again. "Declan calls Tony tonight. Claims he has urgent intel about Connor's daughter working for us."
"Which is true," Nico points out.
"Was true." Pietro's correction is sharp.
The room goes quiet. I stare at my coffee, feeling all three brothers watching me.
"Doesn't matter what's true," I say, finding my voice. "Only what Declan believes."
Pietro nods. "Exactly. He'll take the bait because he's desperate. Connor's pulling back, the Murphy alliance is shaking. He needs leverage."
"And he thinks I'm it."