2. Dante
2
DANTE
I watch carefully as the trucks pull up to the loading dock, tires crunching on gravel. Dominico stands beside me, his eyes narrowed and calculating. The hum of the idling engines fills the night air.
“Looks like everything is on schedule,” Dominico remarks, glancing at his watch. I nod in agreement, not taking my eyes off the vehicles. I know how important this shipment is. It’s a sign of trust from my father and Don Marino that they put me in charge of overseeing it with Dominico while they are occupied with other business.
The responsibility of overseeing this shipment weighs heavily on my shoulders, but it’s a weight I welcome. My father entrusted me with this task, a clear sign of his confidence in my abilities. I am determined to not let him down.
The back gates of the trucks open with a metallic clang, and Dominico winces. Groups of men emerge and begin unloading the cargo—nondescript wooden crates, contents unknown to me. But I don’t need to know. My job is simply to make sure it all goes smoothly.
A surge of pride ripples through me. This is a significant shipment of product, and I’m pleased to know my father trusts me enough to handle it in his absence. It’s a testament to my growing importance within the family business.
Dominico and I work seamlessly together. With his marriage to Don Marino’s eldest daughter, Sofia, it’s clear that Dominico is being groomed to take over as the next Don of the Sicura Family. And as I prove myself time and again, I position myself to be his underboss, just as my father is to Don Marino.
“Alright, Dante, let’s finish this shit,” Dominico says, rolling up his sleeves. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can go home to my wife. Bianca and Rork are bringing the baby over so we can babysit.”
I pause, looking up at him. “How’s Bianca doing after the baby?”
Dominico laughs. “I think the question is—how is Rork doing after the baby?”
I shake my head. I still don’t understand how the O’Malleys and the Marinos finally buried the hatchet, but it’s not my business to know.
“But Bianca is doing well,” Dominico replies as he moves some of the crates to their appropriate spots. “Baby Cara is the light of everyone’s life right now. I swear, I’ve never seen my father-in-law so smitten with anyone before. And Sofia” —he waves his hands in the air in exasperation— “can’t stop talking about her. It’s ‘Cara this’ and ‘Cara that.’ She was so excited when Bianca asked if we would babysit. The woman’s bought five thousand toys for this baby and I don’t think Cara can even hold her head up!”
“Then you haven’t seen the nursery that La Signora set up for Cara,” I remark, using the respectful title for Anna Marino. “I think she bought out every toy store known to mankind.”
Dominico wipes the sweat off his brow. “Well, at the rate Don Marino is marrying off his girls, Ma will empty every baby store in the city—hey, can you lend me a hand here?”
I quickly hurry over to help Dominico move a crate. Don Marino’s illness has been kept a closely guarded secret, known only to his inner circle. Dominico obviously knows because he’s married into the family, and I know not only because of my close friendship with the Marino girls and my father’s title as the Marino underboss, but because we live on the Marino estate as well.
“It hasn’t been that fast,” I counter, grunting as I help Dominico lift the crate. “It’s been about a year since Bianca was married off.”
“Don Marino’s illness put a setback to that,” Dominico remarks as we set the crate down a few feet to the left. “But Chiara is next, especially since she’s freshly nineteen.”
At the mention of her name, I feel a sudden tightness in my chest. Chiara. My closest friend among the Marino sisters, and the one who has come to mean so much more to me over the years. I was eleven when she was born and didn’t really pay any attention to her or her sisters. I truly only saw her as a friend.
But what started as a close friendship slowly blossomed into something more, an undeniable attraction that grew stronger with each passing day. By the time she turned eighteen, I knew I was in trouble. I had fallen for her, completely and utterly, despite my best efforts to resist.
“Who do you think Don Marino will try to match her with?” I ask, unable to help myself, my heart pounding.
Dominico shrugs, leaning against a crate. “Don’t know. Sofia has no idea either. Don Marino has kept that under wraps for the time being.”
His statement about Chiara’s potential husband hangs heavily in the air, and I feel a sudden tightness in my chest. The thought of her being married off to some stranger—of losing her forever—fills me with a sense of dread.
I clear my throat, trying to keep my voice steady. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“As long as you help me move these fucking crates, ask away.”
As we lift up another crate, I work up the courage to ask the question burning in my mind. I need to be careful in how I ask it. Dominico and I get along great, but I don’t know how loyal he is to his father-in-law. “How did you and Sofia end up together? I know your backstory?—”
“How much do you know?” Dominico asks, his eyes boring into mine.
All of it , I want to say. Chiara keeps no secrets from me, so I knew all about how Dominico took Sofia’s virginity and then dumped her when she was a teenager.
“Does it really matter now that you’re married?” I quirk a brow at him.
Dominico looks thoughtful. “Fair point. Go on.”
“I know that yours was an arranged marriage, and let’s face it, you and the bride did not look happy on your wedding day.”
Dominico snorts as we set down another crate. “That’s an understatement.”
“But now you two look ridiculously happy. How did you go from Sofia looking like she wanted to skin you alive to what you are now?”
Dominico chuckles, a wistful look in his eyes. “Honestly, Dante, it was pure luck. When I broke things off with Sofia, I thought that was it. I never imagined she would forgive me, let alone love me again.”
He pauses, his expression turning more serious. “But here’s the thing—trying to force a relationship with one of the Marino girls is a losing game. It has to happen naturally, on its own terms. If it’s meant to be, it will be.”
I nod, absorbing his words as I help him move another crate. My heart is racing and my palms are sweaty as I grapple with the secret I’ve been keeping for nearly a year now. Chiara and I have been together ever since that fateful night when I kissed her before dawn. It’s been a secret relationship, born out of fear of what would happen if anyone found out—especially her father and my own.
“But what if…” I start, my voice barely above a whisper as my mouth gets away from my brain. “What if you have feelings for one of them? Real feelings, the kind that you can’t just ignore or push away?”
Dominico stops, fixing me with a look. “Are you trying to tell me something, Dante?”
Fuck. Too much information. I got too comfortable. I shake my head quickly, backpedaling. “No, no, I was just wondering. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
He studies me for a moment, his hazel eyes searching mine. “Well, hypothetically speaking… if you have real feelings for one of the remaining Marino girls, you have to be prepared to fight for her. To prove yourself worthy to her father.”
I swallow hard, my mind racing with the implications of his words. The idea of openly declaring my love for Chiara, of facing Don Marino’s judgment and wrath, fills me with fear. There aren’t many people I am afraid of, but Don Nico Marino may be the scariest motherfucker I’ve ever met.
“But like I said,” Dominico continues, breaking me out of my thoughts, “it’s all hypothetical, right?”
I force a smile, nodding. “Right. Hypothetical.”
We finish moving the last of the crates in silence, my heart heavy with the weight of my secret. I know that I can’t keep hiding my feelings for Chiara forever. But the thought of risking everything we have, of potentially losing her and my place in the family, is almost too much to bear.
As we finish up the last of our work, Dom turns to me, a look of sympathy etched on his face as he places a firm hand on my shoulder.
“Listen, Dante,” he begins, his voice low and serious. “I know it’s not easy, but you need to make peace with whoever Don Marino chooses as Chiara’s husband.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded.
Dominico shakes his head as he continues. “I know what you’re thinking, but trust me, it’s a pipe dream. Don Marino would never marry her off to a common soldier, no matter how loyal or dedicated he may be to the family.”
A surge of panic rises in my chest. Did I give away too much? Do my feelings for Chiara show that clearly on my face?
I force a laugh, trying to sound casual. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Chiara and I are just friends. We’ve known each other for so long, it’s hard not to care about her, you know? But that’s all it is—friendship.”
Dominico stares at me, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly. I get the distinct feeling that he can see right through my bullshit, that he knows exactly how deep my feelings for Chiara run.
But to my relief, he seems to buy it. Or at least, he chooses not to push the issue further.
“Good,” he says, his voice firm. “Because Chiara is a Marino, and her father has certain expectations for her future. Expectations that don’t include a soldier.”
His words sting, even though I know he’s not saying anything I haven’t already told myself a thousand times.
“She deserves the best,” I say honestly. And just to make sure I haven’t slipped, I quickly add in, “All the Marino girls do. Sofia and Bianca seemed to have found the right men for them. I can only hope Chiara and Mia will, too.”
Dominico cocks his head to the side, looking at me curiously before he claps me on the shoulder one last time, a gesture of support that does little to ease the ache inside me.
“Get some rest. Tomorrow’s another day, Dante. I’ll see you later.”
With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me alone in the shadows of the warehouse.
I stand there for a long moment, my mind racing with thoughts of Chiara. How am I supposed to let her go when she’s become such an integral part of my life? When the thought of losing her feels like losing a piece of myself?