Chapter 41 #2
We've been at this for three hours. Hashing out details. Negotiating percentages. Building the foundation of an alliance that will reshape Chicago's underworld.
Nico turns from the window. "The Corellis won't like this."
"The Corellis can choke on their objections." I rise from my seat. "They had their chance to play nice."
Pietro's mouth twitches. Almost a smile. "Diplomatic as always, Baganov."
"I save diplomacy for people who deserve it."
We move toward the door. Pietro opens it, and the sounds of the compound filter in. Distant voices. Footsteps on marble. The clatter of dishes from somewhere deeper in the house.
Vittoria appears in the hallway. Like she was waiting.
My chest tightens at the sight of her. Three weeks until she's my wife. Three weeks that feel like an eternity.
She's changed since I saw her this morning. Different dress. Hair pulled back. Dark circles under her eyes that she's tried to hide with makeup.
Something's wrong.
"Is everything alright?"
"Fine." The word comes too quickly. "I just wanted to ask if we could stay for dinner tonight."
I glance at Pietro, who shrugs.
"Giulia came back," Vittoria continues. "She's making her best dishes. You haven't lived until you've tasted her ossobuco."
"She came back?" I ask.
Vittoria's smile falters. Just for a second. "This morning. She said she missed us."
There's more to that story. I can see it in the way she holds herself. The tension in her shoulders.
But now isn't the time to push.
"I'd be honored to stay."
Her relief is visible. Subtle, but there. "Good. Thank you."
She turns and walks toward the dining room. I follow, falling into step beside her.
"You've been crying," I say quietly. So only she can hear.
Her jaw tightens. "I'm fine."
"Vittoria."
"Not now." She glances at me. "Please. Later."
I want to press. Want to pull her aside and demand she tell me what's wrong.
But I respect her enough to wait.
"Later," I agree.
The dining room is already set when we enter. Long mahogany table. Crystal glasses. White candles flickering in silver holders.
The smell of cooking meat and herbs drifts from the kitchen. Rich. Savory. My stomach growls despite my attempts to ignore it.
Vittoria takes her usual seat. I settle beside her, close enough that our shoulders almost touch.
The others arrive in waves.
Lorenzo enters first, Sophia tucked against his side.
Nico follows with Kristen.
Pietro guides Nora to the table.
Bruno wheels himself in last. His jaw is set. Eyes hard. He positions his wheelchair at the end of the table, separate from the rest of us.
A maid appears with wine bottles. She pours to all of us.
Pietro raises his glass. "To family."
"To family," we echo.
The wine is excellent. Bold. Complex.
I take another sip, watching the dynamics around the table. Lorenzo whispering something that makes Sophia blush. Nico's hand resting on Kristen's thigh under the table. Bruno staring at his wine like it personally offended him.
And Vittoria beside me. Still tense. Still hiding whatever made her cry.
Pietro sets down his glass and turns toward the kitchen doorway.
"Giulia!"
Footsteps. Then a woman emerges. Late fifties. Kind face. She wipes her hands on her apron as she approaches.
"Dmitri," Pietro says, "this is Giulia. She's been with our family for over thirty years. Practically raised us."
I stand and take her hand. "It's an honor to meet you."
Giulia studies me. Assessing. Judging.
"So you're the Russian who's marrying our Vittoria." Her voice is warm but firm. "She deserves someone who will cherish her."
"I intend to."
"Intentions are easy. Actions are what matter." She squeezes my hand once before releasing it. "But you have kind eyes. That's something."
Pietro clears his throat. "Giulia, please sit. I have something to tell everyone."
She takes the empty chair beside Bruno.
The table falls quiet. Everyone watching Pietro.
He stands. Reaches for Nora's hand. She looks up at him with something like nervousness flickering across her features.
"I know the past few weeks have been difficult," Pietro begins. "The attack. Vittoria's kidnapping. The funeral. We've been fighting to keep our heads above water."
He pauses. Swallows.
"But tonight, I wanted to share something good. Something worth celebrating."
His grip on Nora's hand tightens.
"Nora is pregnant."
Silence.
Then Vittoria screams.
Pure joy. Unfiltered. The sound rips through the dining room like a thunderclap.
She launches from her chair so fast it nearly topples. Whatever darkness clouded her eyes vanishes instantly. Whatever made her cry is forgotten.
"Oh my God!" Vittoria practically tackles Nora, wrapping her arms around the Irish woman. "Oh my God, oh my God!"
Nora laughs, tears streaming down her face. "Careful, careful—"
"A baby!" Vittoria pulls back just enough to look at Nora's face. "You're having a baby!"
The room erupts.
Lorenzo is on his feet, pulling Pietro into a fierce embrace. Sophia claps her hands together, beaming despite the pain the movement must cause her healing wound.
Nico rises more slowly, but his smile is genuine. He clasps Pietro's shoulder. "Congratulations, brother."
Kristen hugs Nora next, murmuring something that makes the Irish woman laugh through her tears.
Even Bruno's expression softens. Just slightly. Just enough.
Giulia crosses herself, lips moving in silent prayer. Then she's crying too, dabbing at her eyes with her apron.
"A grandchild for Aria," she whispers. "Finally, a grandchild."
I watch Vittoria bounce between hugging Nora and hugging Pietro, her earlier tension completely dissolved. This is what she needed. Good news. Hope. A reminder that life continues even when darkness threatens to consume everything.
Pietro catches my eye across the chaos. Nods once.
I raise my glass to him.
Vittoria returns to my side, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with happy tears.
"Can you believe it?" She grabs my arm. "A baby! There's going to be a baby in this house!"
I pull her close. Press my lips to her temple.
"I believe it."
She looks up at me. All that earlier pain washed away by joy.
"This is the best news," she breathes. "The absolute best news."