Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Present Day
Istared unblinking at the deep dent in my pine desk, my finger tracing the rough edges of a dark memory.
This used to be my papi’s desk. When I became boss twelve years ago, I redecorated and got rid of nearly everything he owned, except this bloody desk.
Why? I wasn’t sure I could explain it, let alone understand it.
Deep down, had I harboured some sort of unconditional love for the man?
I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think so. The man made damn sure he was unlovable.
Was I sentimental? No. It wasn’t that either.
It was… a reminder. The presence of Francesco Aiani’s shadow was in every decision I made.
He’d raised me with an iron fist and cruelty.
I’d been an awkward, shy kid. I wasn’t the heir he wanted or expected.
I didn’t have the same ambition or bloodthirst he had.
Francesco wasn’t a complicated man, nor was he easy to please.
Far from it, he saw the world through violent eyes and a blackened heart.
It didn’t matter that at four I wanted to play outside and catch butterflies in jars.
That made me weak. It didn’t matter that at eight I preferred building with LEGO rather than learning to shoot.
That made me pathetic. If I cried when he hit Mamma or climbed into my sister’s bed because I was scared, I was a disappointment.
If he’d found out I liked boys too… I’d be dead.
Plain and simple. So I had to become someone he wanted me to be, at least on the outside.
Cami did too. She had the surgery he demanded, wore the short dresses he chose, kept her mouth shut, and fluttered her eyelashes at the men he paraded her in front of, dying inside each time, but that was her way of surviving.
My survival was to hide who I was and become someone I didn’t want to be.
To live in the skin of another until I no longer knew who I really was.
Was I the man my papi had created, or the little boy who still longed to chase butterflies? Or both? Had I ever truly known?
This desk. This mark was from when he’d slammed my hand down and driven a blade through it, crucifying me to the wood because he’d checked my internet history and seen I’d asked whether people can like both boys and girls.
I was twelve, confused, curious, and trying to figure myself out.
That quickly ended. No, was his answer. Liking the same sex was a disease, an illness—unnatural and for weak-minded people.
People like that… they didn’t last in our world.
They get snuffed out. Did I want to be snuffed out?
I remembered the tears racing down my face as I shook my head furiously.
He made sure to leave a long, ugly scar on my right hand, telling me that if I ever touched my cock while thinking of a man, he’d know.
That scar would tell him. And he’d kill me.
It wasn’t a threat. It was a fact. One that became a constant in my head for the rest of my life.
And then he died. But the scar was still there. The deep, angry dent remained in this desk, reminding me: you can never truly be who you are.
Fuck. That.
I looked up at the four faces in front of me, all uncertain as to why the hell I’d called them into my office. Giovanni Buccini, my mentor and the closest thing I had to a friend; my sister, Cami, and her saviour and husband, Maximus Buccini; and my underboss and second cousin, Teron.
The back of my white shirt stuck to my back with sweat, the nervous energy unable to stay contained. The roaring pulse in my ears was so deafening that I barely heard Teron’s voice asking what was going on.
My mouth was dry. Bile rose in my throat faster than the words stuck behind it.
The room seemed to close in, the walls warping and shifting.
But I pushed everything aside. That was fear.
Fear was a choice. I had worked tirelessly to control it so it wouldn’t dominate my life anymore.
That was always the goal. To reach this point. This moment. This day.
My sister’s blue eyes glistened with concern as she frowned. “Enzo?”
“I’m…” My gaze flicked along their faces. “I’m attracted to men. Always have been. I don’t want to hide it anymore. I can’t.”
There was a beat of silence. Then another. My world tilted, spinning around me as I desperately searched for one item in the room that wasn’t swaying.
“Okay.”
Someone had spoken. I wasn’t sure who it was. I closed my eyes, trying to swallow the sandpaper in my throat.
“I’m attracted to women, too. But I… I prefer men.”
I wanted to mention one man in particular, but I didn’t.
My voice wasn’t my own, but the words were.
Words that had been suppressed for nearly thirty years.
They were finally out there. The world would finally know.
And guess what? It was still turning. It hadn’t imploded with my confession. Not yet, anyway.
“Okay.”
There was that word again. I forced my eyes open to see my sister crying silently, her fingers pressed to her lips as she stared at me with…
relief? Admiration? Love? Maximus was smiling—just sitting there, smiling.
Teron caught my eye and gave me a firm nod; a small twist of his lips showed his acceptance.
But it was Giovanni who had been speaking.
Okay. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked deep into my eyes. I wanted to look away, but I didn’t.
“Thank you for telling us,” Gio said, steady and calm. “I imagine that took serious guts, Aiani. I know it changes everything.” He paused, letting the words hang. Yeah, it changed my whole life. “But… it also changes nothing. Not for the people in this room.”
My shoulders sagged, and I exhaled a long, shaky breath.
Suddenly, arms wrapped around my neck, and my head was pressed against my sister’s chest. She kissed the top of my head, just as she used to when I was her baby brother, curled up on her lap during one of our papi’s outbursts.
For a second, I was five again, not thirty-one.
“I am so proud of you, Enzo,” she whispered, and I held onto her, allowing her love to slip through the hard shell. “You’re free.”
Tears burned behind my eyes, and I pressed the heels of my hands to them, forcing them back. I was free. She knew. I was free of the shame. Free of guilt. Free of Francesco. Free to be me.
Next came Maximus’s bear hug, then Giovanni’s shoulder squeeze. Teron slapped me on the back before shaking my hand. We had never been close, but I trusted him more than anyone else left in my family.
“So, is this...” He rubbed his hand over his head, suddenly looking awkward and unsure how to express himself.
I knew this would be difficult for him. He was my underboss, sworn to respect and protect me, but.
.. he had been raised by my papi’s brother in a similar household.
We didn’t show our emotions, and I was probably the first bisexual person he’d ever met. “Are you… out to everyone?”
I knew what he was asking. How the fuck were we going to approach this?
“Si,” I breathed, standing on shaky legs, but a wave of calm washed over me.
A peace I hadn’t felt since sleeping in Finn’s arms all those years ago.
Finn was the only person who truly knew the real me.
The only person I’d ever let close enough, trusted enough.
But that circle had just grown a little bigger.
“I’m not going to throw a coming-out party or anything,” I chuckled nervously.
“But I’m not hiding any longer, either. I’m still the leader of this family. I’m still me.”
Teron nodded, still looking unsure. I understood his apprehension.
Neither of us knew how to handle this. I’d lose men and networks.
Possibly some business. I knew I would. Some would leave, refusing to work under me.
Others might try to join other families, and I’d let them.
I didn’t want anyone in my circle who’d lose respect or loyalty for me because I liked men.
But thanks to Alessio’s contracts with all mafia bosses under his regime, which stipulated severe punishments for violence against LGBTQIA+ mafia members, there was a false sense of security around me.
Still, I wasn’t fooled into thinking this would be entirely smooth sailing.
“Have you told Alessio?” Gio asked, placing his hands on his hips. “He’ll be able to give advice on how to proceed.”
“He knows,” I said as his eyebrows shot up his forehead. “He’s known for years, but no, he doesn’t know I’ve come out to everyone else. I’m heading back to Sicily in a few days, so I’ll tell him.”
We all had a whiskey together, and then the men left, leaving only my sister behind. The moment we were shut in my office alone, she smiled again, with tears shining in her eyes.
“You could have told me, Enzo. I wish I had been there for you.”
“You were there for me, Cami. But I could barely admit it to myself, and I didn’t want to risk your safety.”
She sighed, shaking her head, and hugged me again. “Well, thank you for telling me now. I love you so much.”
“Love you too,” I said, smiling into her hair and letting the feeling of acceptance flood through me. I’d never doubted that Cami would be supportive. That was never the issue.
“So…” she said, stepping back with an intrigued sparkle in her eyes. “I have to ask… why now?”
Why now? What a fucking question. There were a million reasons, and also none. Could I have done this ten years ago? Five years ago? One year ago? Yes and no. What made today different? I didn’t know. But it just was.