Chapter 12
Romeo
I’m surprised when I enter the kitchen and find Dante sitting at the table with Lucia. He said he was going to call by, but I didn’t expect him to get here so soon.
Although it appears he’s listening to whatever Lucia is saying, his eyes are locked on me as I cross the room and pull out a chair, taking a seat opposite him.
After our call, I’m no longer concerned that he’s going to wipe me off the face of the earth for what I did, but like I anticipated, he was furious when I informed him of what happened.
I can’t exactly blame him, so I’d be a fool to think my place in the family won’t be on the line if anything happens to his sister-in-law in the future.
“Dante,” I say, with a slight nod.
“Romeo,” he counters, and the disappointment I see in his eyes makes me feel uneasy.
He’s given me so much over the years that I owe him more than just loyalty. I owe him my life. Things for me would’ve turned out so differently if it weren’t for this man.
“I thought I taught you better,” he says. His voice is low, but sharp enough that my stomach knots.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I reply, even though I don’t believe my own words.
No matter how persistent Lucia was, I still could’ve said no, but my protectiveness towards her has escalated to a new level. She’s no longer just a job to me; things have become personal.
Dante casually leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers in front of him as he studies me.
“There’s always a choice,” he eventually says. “It’s the consequences that aren’t optional.”
“I fucked up, I know. I’m willing to take any punishment you dish out.”
“The hell you will,” Lucia screeches.
Both our heads snap in her direction. We were so focused on each other that I forgot she was there. This is the kind of family business we’d never discuss with someone on the outside.
Her attention is now locked on Dante. “You’re not going to punish him, are you?”
“And what are you going to do about it if I do?”
“I’ll fuck you up,” she growls.
Her words have me rearing back because I’m used to her sass, and although he may be her brother-in-law, he’s the Don of our Famiglia, and that alone deserves respect.
I hold my breath, unsure of what to do, but then Dante does something unexpected; he throws his head back and bursts out laughing.
The sound is loud, raw, and unnerving. It echoes off the walls, but Lucia doesn’t flinch. She sits there with her small hands gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles have turned white.
Her clenched jaw is tight as her eyes burn into him. She’s got some balls, that’s for sure. I’ve seen grown men pale in his presence.
“You remind me so much of Arabella when you’re feisty,” Dante says, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.
Lucia doesn’t soften. “You didn’t answer the question.”
Dante sobers instantly, and the weight of his authority settles back into his posture like armour. “He disrespected the chain of command, Luc. He made a call that wasn’t his to make. That comes with consequences.”
She leaps to her feet. “Then you’ll need to punish me too.”
“Lucia—” I start, but she cuts me off with a glare.
Dante watches us both in silence. It’s only for a moment, but it feels like an eternity.
I’ve seen this man at his best and worst. Most days, Dante Mancini is jovial, carefree, and kind, but when he’s mad, he’s unpredictable. He’s calculated, cold, and terrifying.
He exhales and pushes back his chair, reaching across the table to snatch up the missing person flyer before folding it in half and shoving it into his pocket.
He taps his knuckles on the table, points a finger in my direction, and says, “Don’t do it again,” before striding out of the room.
A few seconds later, I hear the front door close behind him. It’s only then that I release the breath I didn’t realise I was holding. Because, despite how much the Famiglia—and my position as underboss—mean to me, there’s no way I could’ve stood by and let him punish Lucia without retaliating.
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the pile of flyers one of my men dropped off earlier. They were collected locally and beyond, and although we’ve turned this town upside down trying to find Salvatori and his men, I’m surprised we missed these.
There’s a storm brewing in my head because I can’t shake those two words printed in large bold letters: my wife. They’re stuck in my head like a brand.
The truth is, I’ve got this messed-up sense of ownership when it comes to Lucia Rossi. I know it’s not right. She’s not mine, and maybe she never will be, but the fact that this psychopath thinks she’s his is haunting me.
I got a call from Dante last night. I knew when he left here yesterday that it wasn’t the end. He simply didn’t want to get into it with Lucia present.
After a few choice words and another warning, he moved straight back to business. He wanted to hash out our next move.
We talked about calling the number on the flyer, hoping it might lead us to one of Giuseppe’s men, if not the bastard himself. It’s a long shot, but every lead we’ve had so far has led to a dead end, so this may be our only chance to get something concrete.
As long as he’s still out there, Lucia’s not safe. The fact that we haven’t caught him yet says a lot. He’s smarter than we gave him credit for.
A missing person flyer might not seem like a masterstroke, or a move the Cosa Nostra would typically make, but that reward is enough to get people talking.
I want to think we’re one step ahead, but after all this time, he’s still managed to elude us, so maybe we’re not ahead at all. He’s playing the long game, and playing it well.
I drop the flyers to the floor by my feet and flop back onto the mattress, burying the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. The unknown makes me anxious. I’ve lived a lifetime of uncertainty, so you’d think I’d be used to it by now. But I’m not.
Sitting here and not being able to be actively involved is slowly sending me stir-crazy. I know that looking after Lucia is more important, but I can’t handle doing nothing.
That’s when an idea hits me. It’s reckless, maybe even selfish, but the thought won’t let go. What if I marry Lucia before Giuseppe can?
I could lock her into something safe, at least safer than whatever twisted plans he has for her. It’s not about possession, not really. It’s about protection. Well, that’s what I’m telling myself.
I slide my phone out of my pocket, but instead of dialling the one person I should be calling—my boss, the person I’d need to get permission from—I scroll through my contacts until I find the number I’m searching for.
A sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach as I hesitate, knowing this move may be enough to end me. My thumb hovers over the call button, but that doesn’t seem to stop me from eventually pressing it.
I know I’m not thinking straight, and this may not even be a possibility. It’s a reckless and impulsive move, especially after everything that happened with Dante yesterday, but the thought of going through with it brings me a strange kind of peace.
Is it going to stop Salvatori from trying to take her from me? Probably not, but at this stage, I’m desperate and willing to try anything.
“Father Flannery,” I say the moment he answers my call. “It’s Romeo.”
“Romeo,” he says in that thick Irish accent I’ve come to find oddly comforting over the years. “It’s late to be getting a call from you. Is everything alright, son?”
Son.
I remember being caught off guard the first time he called me that when I was a kid, but he has turned out to be the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father figure.
Sure, I had my uncle but his wife never got along with my mum, so there was always this low-level tension whenever I was around. It made things feel strained, like I was never entirely welcome in their home.
“I have a bit of a problem, and you’re the only person who may be able to help.”
This may be a marriage of convenience, not love, but I still want to get it right. And that’s what messes with my head the most, because if it’s just a way to protect her, why does it matter so much to me how it all plays out?
I pull out my phone when it buzzes in my pocket and look down at the screen.
Dom: I’m here.
Me: I’m ready to leave. Come to the front door, I’ll be out in a minute.
Dom or Dominic ‘Dead End’ Rizzo, as he is appropriately named, is a relatively new recruit to the team. He’s only been with us for a few years now, but he’s working his way up the ladder pretty quickly.
He has become one of our best enforcers, with good reason. He’s built like a brick shit house. He’s a six-foot-four wall of muscle, and to put it bluntly, he’s a scary-looking motherfucker.
He’s also a bit of a loose cannon, but there was no way I was going to let Sergio come here to babysit Lucia while I was gone. Not after the comments he made about her the day he dropped off the Kindle.
When I enter the main room, I find Lucia curled up on the lounge reading, and my heart rate kicks up a notch as I take her in.
It’s hard to believe in a matter of days she could be my wife. Well, on paper anyway. I’m still not sure if this is the right move, especially since I’m doing it behind Dante’s back. But I’m in too deep now, and I’ve got no intention of backing out.
The only thing that could stop this wedding from going forward is Lucia. I’m not sure what I’ll do if she says no to my proposal. I push those thoughts out of my mind as I advance further into the room.
Killer is lying beside her. The spoilt little fucker has been living his best life here, but he’s going to need to go out the back until I return. I can’t risk him attacking one of my men.
Although Lucia seems to have that dog wrapped around her little finger, I’m not sure she’d be able to handle him if he went into protective mode.
“Hey,” I say, approaching her.
A smile curves her plump lips as her eyes move from the screen to me. “Hey.”