Sloane
Game night at the Rosetti mansion is madness and love, all tangled up like string lights. Noise bounces off the steel and glass walls as we gather around the huge coffee table in the main lounge room, yelling over one another, throwing cards, and pretending not to care who wins (we all do).
Carmela throws her arms up, almost knocking over her glass of wine, then bursts into a fit of giggles.
Matteo blows her a kiss and calls her a little cheater.
Rafe sits beside me, a quiet storm in the center of it all.
His brothers are loud and impossible. His sister is a ray of sunshine.
His family. My family. It feels like I’ve always been here. Like this is where I belong.
Leonardo stands, loud as ever, flinging a deck of cards across the table. They scatter like confetti, landing in laps, on the floor, and I’m sure some disappear into the massive black couch behind us.
“Someone’s not playing fair,” he says, cracking his knuckles, making it sound like a threat.
“And I wonder who that could be,” Matteo grins, flipping a silver coin through his fingers.
It glints in the overhead lights, bright like his dimpled smile. He leans back, all lazy confidence and charm.
“Doesn’t take a genius to know you can’t shuffle for shit,” he adds.
“Watch it, Playboy,” Leonardo growls, but he’s smiling.
It’s impossible not to with this crew.
The room echoes with the clatter of cards and voices, the click of glasses, and laughter that rolls around the high ceilings.
It smells like wine and too many expensive colognes and the spaghetti that the kitchen staff made earlier.
The lounge is sleek and modern, filled with expensive furniture, art on the walls.
But tonight, with everyone here, it feels warm, alive.
Dom raises an eyebrow from the chair he’s sharing with Besiana, the picture of composed chaos.
“If there’s cheating,” he says, “I know where to look first.”
“Me?” Matteo asks, putting a hand to his heart, acting all offended. “Come on, I don’t have to cheat to win.”
Besiana shakes her head, smiling as she leans into Dom.
“You Rosettis,” she says, voice soft and amused. “Is anything ever not a competition?”
Carmela nudges me from the other side.
“Better get used to it, hon,” she says.
Her green eyes are bright with laughter, curls bouncing like springs as she shifts on the couch.
“Or you’ll have to trade Rafe for a normal boyfriend,” she adds.
I laugh.
“Normal’s boring.”
I catch Eleanor’s eye across the room. She’s nestled beside Leonardo, elegant and composed, but even she’s laughing now, head tilted back, rich brown hair cascading over her shoulder. She meets my gaze and winks, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.
Rafe slips a leather-gloved hand into mine, and the warmth of it makes my heart trip over itself. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. We fit. We belong.
We all settle into seats and start dealing again. Cards pass from hand to hand, and I can’t stop grinning like an idiot. It’s a different world from where I grew up. Louder, messier. More love than I know what to do with.
A card sails past my head, and I duck just in time to avoid it. Emilio shrugs when I look over at him. He’s got the hood of his hoodie up, as usual, eyes half-hidden under dark bangs.
“I’m aiming for Leo,” he says. “But I guess you’re both pains in the ass.”
I laugh, and it feels good. Better than good.
Rafe squeezes my hand.
“You okay?” he asks, low enough that it’s just for me.
I lean into him, catch the familiar scent of leather and soap and him.
“Never better.”
We go round after round, teasing and trash-talking and making up new rules whenever it suits us.
Dom and Besiana have their heads together, a quiet conspiracy against the rest of us.
Matteo accuses Emilio of counting cards, and Emilio just raises an eyebrow like he can’t be bothered to deny it.
Leonardo and Eleanor make an indestructible team until Carmela teams up with me, and we manage to knock them off their high horse for a round.
Rafe stays out of it, content to watch, which is just as well because no one can agree on whether it’s better to have him as a partner or to be on the opposite side.
It’s madness, pure and simple, but I can’t stop the smile on my face. The one that’s been there for days.
Leonardo gestures at the empty glasses on the table.
“Who needs a refill?”
I raise my hand along with a few others.
“We’ll be right back,” he says, pulling Eleanor to her feet.
He’s got a hold on her, a little wild, a little possessive, and she rolls her eyes like it’s the most ridiculous thing, but she doesn’t let go.
We start dealing again as they leave the room, but Rafe draws me back onto the couch before I can get too involved. I fall against him, and he wraps an arm around me, snug and secure. It feels safe here, right here against him.
“Look at them,” Matteo says. “It’s disgusting.”
“I heard that,” I call, and I throw a card at him, a perfect shot right at his forehead.
“Maybe we should start acting like them,” Matteo continues, glancing around like he’ll find some eligible woman hiding in the shadows and just waiting to fall into his arms.
“Maybe you should stop talking,” Emilio cuts in, voice dry as ever.
“So gross,” Matteo says again, and Rafe finally smiles.
We go a few more rounds, the night spiraling into chaos and laughter and spilled cards. Emilio wins half the games, though I’m not convinced he doesn’t hack the deck. The rest of us spend more time yelling and blaming each other than actually keeping score.
Eleanor and Leonardo return with drinks. The room is hot and loud and perfect, and I know this isn’t how it should be. Not if you ask my old neighbors back home. But it’s exactly how I want it.
“Hey,” Leonardo says, handing me a glass of wine, eyes wicked like he’s already planning something. “What’s your cop daddy gonna say about all this?” He gestures around the room, a wide sweep that takes in every loud, happy inch of it. “Think he’ll have a heart attack?”
I think of Dad, imagine his stern look as he eyes the family that comes with the man I've chosen. I can feel him glaring holes in Rafe, his demands for a background check only half-joking. The worst part is, I know what kind of trouble he’ll imagine me in. The best part is, he’ll be right.
I picture my mother beside him, her practical, organized brain trying to find a place to start.
She’ll be kind, at least. She always is.
I think of her trying to fit in where she can, and the way her eyebrows will shoot to the sky the first time someone swears at game night. The first time someone pulls out a gun.
And then there’s Frank, his big-brother protectiveness turned up to ten.
I can hear him now, his no-nonsense voice booming all the way from Tennessee.
I can hear the disbelief when he hears about my life now, the utter shock when he sees it for himself on his first visit.
I can see his eyes widening at the sight of all these large, loud Rosetti men in their designer suits and black t-shirts and leather and tattoos.
And Lisa, my little sister, the practical one. I bet she’ll ignore all the nonsense, shake her head, and point out to Mom, Dad and Frank just how wrong they are.
My sweet, quiet family. The contrast is almost funny.
They're so unlike the Rosettis. They've never met people who would literally rip a man's head off for insulting a loved one.
They've never met anyone like Rafe, with ice-blue eyes and leather gloves and a history that still scares me sometimes. They've never met a family like this.
They don't know it yet, but they're going to love them.
“He’ll love you all,” I say, and I mean it. “Or at least, he’ll have to pretend to, or else.”
Carmela chokes on her drink, Matteo grins, and everyone dissolves into laughter.
“Or else,” Emilio repeats, with a lift of his eyebrow and a smirk on his lips.
“Ruthless,” Dom says, sounding almost proud and nodding, like this settles everything. “She’s one of us.”
Leonardo puts his arm around me and gives me a squeeze, like a big brother showing affection.
“Damn straight,” he says.
Eleanor laughs and nudges him.
“Be nice,” she tells him, but she’s smiling, and I know she feels the same.
My cheeks hurt from smiling, but I don’t care. This is my life now, wild and unexpected and beautiful.
“Ruthless, I like that,” I say, glancing up at Rafe, who’s looking at me with those impossibly blue eyes. “Do you think it suits me?”
He brushes a kiss against my temple.
“Hell yes,” he says.
Everyone whoops and whistles. Carmela throws a pillow at us, and Matteo calls us the cheesiest couple in the history of cheesy couples. Rafe just flips him off and pulls me closer.
“So damn gross,” Leonardo groans, but I catch him looking at Eleanor like she’s the only thing he’ll ever need.
I snuggle into Rafe’s side, my head on his shoulder, and breathe in the night. The laughter, the mess, the love. It’s all mine, and it’s perfect.
“Let’s finish this game,” Carmela says. She’s on the floor now, teaming up with Matteo, eyes full of mischief. “Someone has to show Emilio he’s not the boss around here.”
“Good luck with that,” Emilio says, his voice amused and so self-assured that it’s no wonder he keeps winning.
“Loser makes breakfast,” Dom declares, and Besiana just shakes her head and laughs.
“No,” she says. “I think we should all make breakfast.”
Leonardo rubs his hands together like he’s planning a new heist.
“Now you’re talking. Sloane, you got any breakfast tips?”
“I do.” I grin. “Just give me a sharp knife and watch me make magic.”
Rafe chuckles, low and warm.
“Yeah, you’re gonna fit in just fine.”
We go a few more rounds, and Emilio wins like we all knew he would. The last card is barely on the table before he leans back, smug as hell, and crosses his arms.
“Just luck,” he says, with the barest hint of a smile.
“Bullshit,” Leonardo laughs.
We dissolve into chaos, accusations and denials flying like the cards did earlier. We yell and blame and protest, and somehow everyone’s right and no one is. It’s the best kind of fight, loud and happy and bursting with love.
I look around at all of them, my family, my impossible, messy, wonderful family, and I know without a doubt that this is it. This is home.