22. Dante
Chapter 22
Dante
M y sweet, exhausted wife is currently asleep on my shoulder in the back seat of the limousine as we head to the airport to board the flight up north to a private airstrip in Rutherford. From there, a car will collect us and take us to our final destination … my brother’s cabin in the Hunter Valley. It’s Christmas morning, and also the first anniversary of my father’s execution.
Alexander invited me to spend the holiday with him, Chloe, and Giovanni weeks ago, but I was undecided until last night. Meeting with countless local families from my community made me realise how much I miss my own, and how important it is to be with the people you love this time of year.
My brother is all I have left.
I’ve been putting off seeing him since I returned from Italy. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I hadn’t told him about Arabella yet. He’s going to ask questions I’m not ready to answer.
I don’t want him to feel guilty that I was forced to marry a stranger to get his son back. I don’t want that weight hanging over us because, in some twisted way, it’s turned out to be a blessing.
Arabella and I have begun to build something real, something I never thought I’d have. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the most unexpected gift of all. I no longer feel like I’m alone or that I’m constantly fighting to be seen.
When we got home last night, it was late, and we were both on such a high. My wife is a giver, and I can see why. It’s so rewarding.
After we left the church, where we met with so many of the locals, who were kind, gracious, and appreciative, we hopped back into the limousine and headed to the homes of some of my men.
Like Arabella, I was meeting most of their wives for the first time, which felt weird since some of these guys have been part of our Famiglia for years.
After we lost my mother, my father quickly became a man’s man, so many of the Cosa Nostra get-togethers we had were not family-orientated. Did he value families? Yes, he did. I’m guessing it became hard for him to see his men with their wives because it constantly reminded him of what he lost.
I can’t fault him for that, but it’s time for change. Arabella has invited everyone to attend our home for New Year’s Eve.
Am I concerned, given what happened last year? Yes, I am. But I don’t want to be stuck in the past or burdened down by fears and what-ifs. I survived that shooting despite the odds. I’m here for a reason, and I refuse to waste my second chance. I also want my wife to be happy, to make friends … to give her the life she never had growing up.
When the car pulls up on the tarmac alongside my private jet, I lean down and place my lips on Arabella’s forehead. “ Bellezza, ” I murmur against her skin. “We’ve arrived at the airport.”
Her eyelids flutter open, and when she lifts her head off my shoulder, and her pretty green eyes meet mine, a rush of warmth floods through my body, and I know with undeniable clarity that I’ve fallen in love with this woman.
“I’m nervous about meeting your family,” Arabella says as the car turns off the road and heads down the long driveway towards Alexander’s cabin.
When I say cabin, I can guarantee it’s not the small wooden dwelling that you’re imagining in your head. It’s a massive home built from large logs that look like they’ve been here for centuries. The woods that surround it are thick and wild, making this place feel like it’s part of the forest. You can’t even hear the world out here; it’s so peaceful and tranquil. It’s just the wind in the trees and the sound of the water lapping at the shore of the large lake that lies at the rear of the property.
“My brother is a little prickly compared to me, but once he sees how happy you make me—” I say, lifting her hand towards my face and placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, “—he’ll welcome you into the family with open arms.”
“What’s his wife like?”
“Chloe’s amazing. I think you’ll like her,” I reply because I truly believe that. I liked her from the moment we met, and I love how deeply she adores my brother and my nephew. “And Giovanni, their son … he’s the sweetest fucking kid. I have a feeling you and Chloe are going to be the best of friends.”
Her emerald eyes widen slightly. “Really? I’ve never had a friend before … other than Lucia, of course.” When she looks out the windscreen towards the sprawling log cabin ahead, and a small, wistful smile plays at her lips, something deep inside my chest cracks open.
Fuck, I hope they get along.
When the driver pulls to a stop alongside the front of the house, I slide out and reach for my wife’s hand, helping her out of the vehicle.
We both moved to the rear of the car. One of my guards, who was travelling in the vehicle behind us, was already there waiting. He popped the trunk and started loading my arms with the gifts we brought, while Arabella took the basket of homemade goodies and followed me up to the front door.
“Can you knock for me, Bellezza ?” I ask because my hands are laden with gifts that are piled all the way up to my chin. I chuckle when she quickly bangs on the door and then scurries back behind me like a scared cat.
A minute later, the door opens, and my brother appears on the threshold. The genuine smile that curves his lips when he sees me standing there only confirms I made the right decision by coming here today.
“You came,” he says as he reaches out to take some of the presents off the top of the pile.
I shrug one shoulder. “Christmas is a time to be with family … “ My voice fades, but I don’t need to finish that sentence. He knows why I’m here.
Of course, I wanted to spend time with him and his family, but I also needed to get away from the house. Hanging around there would’ve only brought all of my trauma back to the surface.
This morning, while Arabella was in the shower, I quietly slipped out to the backyard, leaned my forearms on the pool fence, and took a few moments to reflect on everything that happened last year.
The sky was just beginning to lighten, the first hints of pink and gold creeping over the horizon. The sunrise was breathtaking, casting a soft, golden glow across the backyard and making the world feel peaceful for a moment. It was as if the universe was pausing with me, allowing me the space to breathe before the day fully started.
The emotions that followed were overwhelming: hurt, anger, betrayal, and strangely, gratitude. I still feel guilty for surviving, but I’m now thankful I did. If I hadn’t, I would never have met Arabella or experienced the life I have with her now.
“I hope you’re back in Mamma’s arms, Papa,” I whispered before heading back inside because that thought is the only thing that gives me comfort.
Alexander steps aside. “Come in; Giovanni and Chloe will be happy to see you.”
I’m looking forward to seeing them too. Surprisingly, I enjoyed those few months living with them when I was recovering from the shooting. It forced me to realise that despite everything I had lost, I wasn’t alone … I had them. In a way, it also prepared me for meeting Arabella.
Witnessing the love my brother and Chloe shared made me yearn for something just like that. I think it opened my heart and my mind to the possibility.
I take a deep breath and hold it as I switch the remaining gifts I’m holding into one hand so I can reach behind me with the other. I have no idea how my brother is going to react to this news, especially since he’s only now finding out, but I hope he’s happy for me.
My fingers close around Arabella’s delicate hand, and the way she clutches me as though she’s utterly terrified makes me bite my lip to hide my grin. When she doesn’t move forward on her own, I give a gentle tug, keeping my gaze locked on Alexander. I’m eager to see his reaction when he realises I’m not alone.
As predicted, his eyebrows jump so high they almost reach his hairline. His gaze briefly scans over the curvy, petite brunette beside me before his attention moves back to me. “You brought a date?”
I smirk. “No. Alexander, this is Arabella … my wife.”
This time, his head rears back. “The fuck!”
“True story. ”
“Bull shit.” I lift my hand that is clutching Arabella’s and show him the gold band I’m wearing on my finger. “You got married? When?”
His eyes ping-pong between my wife and me. “A few months ago.”
“A few months ago,” he growls. “And I’m only finding out about it now?”
“I’ve been busy?—”
My words are cut off as a tiny little human in dinosaur pyjamas squeezes around his father and barrels straight into me. “Uncle Dante,” he squeals as his little arms wrap around my upper legs.
When he draws his face back and looks up at me with a huge smile, I notice the tears shimmering in his big brown eyes. It makes me feel like an arsehole for staying away for so long.
“Hey, champ,” I say, ruffling his hair.
“I’ve missed you. Why don’t you live with us anymore?”
“I’m living back at my house now.”
“Why?”
“Because I only stayed with you guys while I was recovering.”
His gaze moves to Arabella. “Who’s that?”
“This is Arabella, my wife.”
“Wife!” I hear someone screech before Alexander is shoved to the side, and Chloe appears in the doorway. Her gaze moves from Arabella to me. “You got married?”
“Yep,” I reply, rocking proudly back on my heels.
She gasps before grumbling as she shoves my chest. “And we weren’t invited?!” I bark out a laugh which only seems to anger Chloe further. “There is nothing funny about that.”
“We got married in Italy,” Arabella says, finally finding her voice.
That gives Chloe pause. “He met you in Italy?” Her accusing eyes move back to me. “When we were all in Italy? ”
“Technically, you guys had already left by the time we exchanged nuptials.”
Her hands go to her hips. “Did you know you were going to marry her while we were still over there?”
I wince. “Possibly.”
Chloe lets out a tiny growl before she reaches for my wife’s hand. “Come, Arabella,” she says, tugging her forward.
“Where are you taking my wife?” I ask.
She huffs before lifting her chin. “I’m taking my sister-in-law—who I was unaware until now even existed—into the kitchen to help me with breakfast so I can get to know her better.”
My lips curve up at the corners because this is exactly what I was hoping for.
I slap my wife’s luscious arse as she passes, adding in a cheeky squeeze for good measure, which has her jumping and releasing a tiny squeak. When she glances over her shoulder and narrows those emerald eyes of hers, my smile grows.
“Come,” Alexander grumbles, flicking his chin. “You and I need to have a little chat.” I roll my eyes as I step into the house.
Giovanni tugs on the hem of his father’s shirt as we all head down the hallway towards the main room. “Can I go in the kitchen and help Mummy and Aunty Arabella?”
Aunty Arabella.
Fuck I love this kid.
“When you gather up all this paper, you can go.”
His cheeks balloon as he blows out a puff of air. “Crapola,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Excuse me,” my brother retorts.
“I said, crapola.”
Alexander’s lips thin, making me chuckle. I wouldn’t even count crapola as a swear word. We said way worse when we were kids … well, I did. “Let me guess, you heard your mother say that? ”
“Yes,” Giovanni replies as he bends over and snatches some of the discarded wrapping paper from his presents off the floor.
“Hmm,” he hums. “Looks like someone is going to get a spanking.”
That gets his son’s attention. “You’re going to spank me?”
I bark out a laugh. “Not you, buddy. Your mum.”
His eyes almost bug out of his head. “You’re going to spank Mummy?”
“I think he plans on doing more than spank?—”
That’s all I manage to get out before my brother shoves me in the shoulder, causing me to stumble back a step. “The fu—” His eyes dart to Giovanni, who’s watching intently. “Fudge.”
“Fudge,” I repeat over a chuckle.
Fucking pussy.
Alexander snatches up the empty plastic garbage bag from the side table and takes over the rubbish duty. “Go in the kitchen and help your mother.” Giovanni doesn’t hesitate as he punches the air and bolts from the room.
Once we’re left alone, his eyes move back to me. “Start talking.”
“About what?”
“Don’t be a dick; you know what I’m waiting to hear.”
“Oh right, my bad. Merry Christmas, big brother.”
When he pauses, tilts his head back, stares up at the ceiling and blows out a long, frustrated breath, my shoulders bob with laughter.
“Where did you meet Arabella?” he growls.
“Italy.”
“We’ve already covered that. Why is talking to you like pulling teeth?”
Because I’m stalling.
I brace myself before answering because I know he’s not going to like what I have to say. “She’s Stefano Rossi’s daughter.” And, as expected, that grabs his attention.
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Keep it down,” I say, stepping closer, grabbing his elbow and guiding him towards the back sliding doors that open onto the lake.
I don’t speak another word until we’re out on the deck, away from anyone who can overhear. The last thing I need is for my wife to get upset.
After shutting the door behind me, I turn to face my brother, who’s now visibly on edge.
“I know this is probably a shock, and I’ll admit, in the beginning, marrying her was the last thing I wanted. But she’s quickly become the best part of me.”
“Did Stefano force you into this? Did Papa do something to him when he was alive, and you ended up being forced into cleaning up his mess? You should’ve come to me if you needed help.”
My brother … always the fixer. He’s been doing this my entire life. “That’s the thing; I wasn’t in trouble, you were.”
That gives him pause. “What?”
“How do you think I got Giovanni back when that bitch ran off with him?”
“You married Stefano’s daughter to get Giovanni back.”
“In a nutshell, yes.”
The weight of the revelation hits him hard, exactly as I anticipated, and I watch as he clutches his head. This is why I’ve stayed silent … why I never told him about my marriage to Italy’s most feared crime boss. I don’t want him to feel responsible.
He moves over to one of the deck chairs and takes a seat. “Fuck.”
“Alex,” I say, approaching him and taking the chair beside him. “It turned out to be a good thing. She makes me happy. She’s my Chloe. ”
He turns his face towards me, but I can still see the turmoil my revelation has caused. “I hate that you’re bound to that man.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re married to his daughter, for fuck’s sake. Can you even trust her?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “She hates her father.”
“Why?”
I’m not going to go into specifics; that’s a whole other can of worms I’m not ready to discuss with him. “She just does … with good reason.” I stand and make eye contact with him. “Arabella is a good person; please don’t make her feel like she’s anything less than that. She didn’t choose him to be her father, just like you never chose Papa.”
“I may not have agreed with a lot of things our father did, but I loved him.”
“Arabella doesn’t love Stefano. She loathes him.”
“Okay,” he says with a nod. “I’m sorry I unknowingly got you into this mess.”
“I’m not,” I reply as I head back into the house because that’s the truth.