Chapter 33 #2
“Goodnight,” I say, giving her another peck on the cheek before heading upstairs.
I’m dead on my feet, but the moment Anna’s floral scent reaches me as I step into the bedroom, my body instantly perks up.
Her body is turned away from me, like always, depriving me of the sight of her face.
After the day I’ve had…the week, hell, these last few years…
her face is the only thing I want to see.
Still, my wife isn’t done punishing me, so all I can do is bear it.
I push the thought aside and grab some clothes before heading into the bathroom to shower. Once I’ve washed the day off and changed, I return to our room, finding Anna exactly where I left her.
I slide in beside her, the faint strands of moonlight catching in her short blonde hair, turning it almost silver in the dark. I ache to touch her.
“Don’t,” she says, barely above a whisper.
“You’re awake,” I say foolishly, pulling my hand back.
Anna doesn’t respond. Fuck.
“I… um… thank you. For my mother, I mean. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. She looks better today.”
“What’s wrong with her?” she asks softly.
“It’s complicated.”
She turns toward me this time, still lying on her side, her head resting on her clasped hands. “Then uncomplicate it for me.”
“Very well.” I clear my throat. “First, tell me what you know.”
“I don’t know anything, remember? Isn’t that how you like me? Clueless?”
“That’s not true.”
“Prove it then. Tell me what’s wrong with your mother.”
I turn onto my back, unable to withstand the venom in Anna’s eyes.
“She’s had a hard life, sweetheart.” I drag a hand over my face, before resting my arm over my head. “A very hard life.”
“Explain.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and force the words out, hoping Anna will be satisfied with the condensed version of my mother’s past.
“Her stepfather… fuck… well, he was a predator. The kind who does sick and twisted things to little girls, but when they age out, they’re no longer of use to him. He kicked my mother out of her home when she was fifteen, while her own mother watched and did nothing to stop him.”
“Oh my God,” Anna gasps, moving closer so I can keep my voice low.
“I wish I could tell you life got better for her, but it didn’t.
Life on the streets isn’t kind to anyone, let alone a teenage girl.
To this day, we still don’t know much about that time in her life.
” I take a deep breath and continue. “After Carlo found her on the streets, her life didn’t improve.
My mother was barely seventeen when he forced her into one of his brothels.
She became his favorite plaything and visited her often.
I can only imagine the horrors he inflicted on her.
” I close my eyes, not wanting to see the pain my words must bring to Anna’s face.
“Then Carlo became Don, and all of a sudden, he needed more heirs to secure his legacy. Since his wife, Ginevra, couldn’t give him any more, my mother took her place. ”
“You were raised in a brothel?”
I shake my head. “No. None of us were. The moment my mother gave birth to any of us, my father took us from her arms and brought us here to live with him. For all intents and purposes, he wanted the world to believe we were true Donatos.”
“That poor woman,” Anna whispers, when she realizes the kind of torment my mother endured for most of her life. From predators sneaking into her childhood room, to my father tearing her babies away from her. One nightmarish existence after another.
I turn onto my side again, but the shadows in the room do nothing to hide the misery in Anna’s expression.
“When she gets overwhelmed… when something triggers her… she retreats into a world of her own. Her mind might be broken, but it’s also the only place she feels safe enough to hide.”
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t know.”
“I never told you. You don’t need to apologize.”
We stare at each other for a moment, my heartbeat falling into rhythm with her quiet breaths.
“Is that what will happen to me?” she asks suddenly. “Will you find someone else to give you children since I refuse to have any with you?” My chest tightens at the finality of her words.
“Even if we never truly share a bed, I will never look elsewhere for such companionship. You are my wife, Anna. No heir could ever matter more than that.”
“A Don is nothing without an heir.”
“And I am nothing without you,” I say, and she flinches as if I’ve struck her. “You still don’t believe me, do you?” She doesn’t answer. “You loved me once, vita mia. Maybe one day you will again.”
“I loved a lie.”
“It was never a lie. Not for me,” I say hurriedly. “I wish you could see that.”
Just as I reach for Anna, she turns her back to me again, ending the conversation. I lie there awake for hours, my gaze settling on the gentle curve of her neck, the soft rise and fall of her breathing.
It’s only been a few days since she learned the truth. If I expect patience from my men when it comes to war, then I should extend that same grace to my wife and give her time to mend her broken heart and forgive me.
Anna will love me again.
I will win her love back… somehow.
When I wake up the next morning, Anna is no longer beside me. Panic climbs up my throat, but with a quick check on the security cameras through my phone, I see her in the kitchen, helping my mother prepare breakfast.
All the tension leaves my body at the sight of her smiling at my mother.
She might believe she’s trapped in this house with nothing but enemies, but at least she’s found a friend in my mother.
And after everything I told her about my mother’s past, I know Anna will do everything in her power to make my mother feel safe and cared for. It’s just her way.
Since I’m not expected anywhere this early today, I stay in bed, watching them interact.
I let out a small chuckle as Anna tries to flip a pancake, only for it to soar into the air, miss the pan altogether, and land on the floor.
Instead of panicking, my girl just laughs, coaxing a wider smile from my mother.
My own smile is met with a quick death when my phone begins to vibrate, an incoming call with Don Vitale’s name popping on my screen.
“I didn’t realize you were making wake-up calls now, Old Fox. Are you that bored?” I joke, running my fingers through my hair.
“Not anymore,” Don Vitale says, almost gleeful. “You really had us going there for a minute. Glad to see you finally came to your senses.”
“It’s too early for riddles, Aldo,” I mutter. “What are you talking about?”
“Like you don’t know,” he chuckles. “I just sent you the links to your newest accomplishment. Well done, young Donato. Well done. I never doubted you for a minute.”
“Glad to hear it,” I reply flatly, hanging up before he can say anything else.
However, as soon as I do, notifications start to flood my screen.
One from The New York Times, another from The Washington Post, and a third from the Chicago Tribune.
My eyes widen as I scan the headlines and the two-page article about Vincent Romano and his family.
More specifically, how Chicago’s celebrated philanthropist has kept a polyamorous relationship with his wife and his two closest associates hidden from the public for years.
Photos of the elite family fill the pages, but the one that troubles me most is the large photograph of Dominic Mancini.
Right beside it is one of my Anna and her sister, Stella, exposing Mancini as their biological father.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This has Moretti’s fingerprints all over it. Instead of coming to me like a man and telling me how furious he is, he pulls a stunt like this behind my back? I’ll have his head for it!
I jump out of bed and storm down the hall, pounding on my brother’s door. Niccolò opens it a few minutes later, looking like he’s already started his day.
“Yeah?”
I don’t answer him and shove past him into the room. “Close the door.”
He does as told, folding his arms across his chest as I pace his room, running my hands through my hair.
“Moretti is becoming a problem. A big fucking problem.”
“Why?” Niccolò asks, brow raised.
“Why?! Because he’s undermining my authority, that’s why.”
“Has he said anything?”
“It’s not what he said. It’s what he’s done.” I shove my phone into his hands, showing him the proof of Moretti’s betrayal. “I need you to come with me to Little Italy. It’s time I remind Moretti who he answers to.”
Niccolò glances at the screen, then hands the phone back, his expression unreadable.
“It wasn’t Moretti who leaked this,” he says. “It was me.” I stare at him, incredulously.
“I beg your fucking pardon? You did this?”
“Someone had to.”
“What the fuck, Nico?! Do you even understand what you’ve done?”
“I do,” he says calmly. “The Outfit is gathering strength, plotting against us. And instead of striking while Romano is vulnerable, you’ve hesitated. You’re not thinking clearly, brother. So one of us had to.”
“You have no idea what you’ve done!” I spit out, furious that he would do something like this behind my back.
“Yes, I do. You’re the one who’s forgotten why we kidnapped Romano’s daughter in the first place. This was never about you getting a wife. It was about our city. About the Cosa Nostra. Somewhere along the line, you blurred the two.” Niccolò’s words hit their mark just as he intended.
He’s right. Anna’s a Romano. I should have buried her long ago.
Instead, I built her a cage that I can’t stop walking into.
Her innocence grates on me. Her silence enrages me.
Her presence haunts me. She makes me feel things I’ve spent a lifetime killing.
And how I should hate her for it. But instead, all I do is love her more.
My priorities have shifted and in her favor.
And for a Don, that’s dangerous. The famiglia must always come first. Always.
“Ever since Anna entered this house, you’ve changed, Matteo,” Niccolò continues, as if reading all my thoughts.
“If I can see it, so can Moretti. And if he decides you’re not fit to lead, he’ll tell the others you killed Carlo.
And if that happens…” He doesn’t finish the sentence.
He doesn’t need to. “Snap out of whatever haze you’re in, brother. We need you more than we need her.”
With that threat hanging in the air between us, Niccolò leaves.
I don’t move.
I just stand there, realizing the last person I ever expected to lose faith in me… just did.