Chapter 10
Massimo
The house has settled into silence, plates cleared, wine glasses dry and the tension from dinner still clings to the wall. My father is in his study, likely making calls about the shipment tomorrow.
The alliance is locked in, the wedding arranged, everything we wanted. Yet, unease sits heavy in my chest, like something’s gone wrong and no one sees it yet.
I run a hand through my hair, loosening the top buttons of my shirt as I walk toward the sitting room.
The fireplace is lit, a soft golden glow flickering against the dark mahogany furniture.
My mother is there, as she always is after dinner, sipping her tea with a quiet kind of grace that reminds me nothing ever unsettles her.
She’s been in this life long enough, and her marriage to my father wasn’t love, it was arranged for power. But my father will kill anyone who harms her without even a second thought.
She doesn’t look up when she speaks. “You’re pacing, Massimo.” It’s a mother’s instinct; they always know when you’re not right.
I exhale, stopping near the fireplace, watching the flames dance. “Just thinking.”
Now she looks up, piercing blue eyes meeting mine. “About the wedding?”
I sit across from her, my elbows on my knees, my fingers locked together. “About Maria.”
A knowing look passes across her face as she sets her teacup down. “Ah.”
I don’t say anything right away. My mother doesn’t rush me, doesn’t demand explanations. She knows I’ll speak when I’m ready. One thing my parents have in common, take your time before you react.
Finally, I lean back, my jaw tight. “She’s scared.”
My mother sighs softly. “She’s not one of us, Massimo. She did not grow up in this world. Fear is natural.”
I shake my head. “It’s not just that. She knows what this life means.
She knows there’s no stopping what’s coming.
The war with the Irish isn’t just a possibility; it’s a reality and she feels it.
Even though she’s not a part of it, she can’t shake the feeling something bad is coming.
” I have no idea why she thinks it, and I have no idea why she’s got me believing it too.
My mother studies me for a long time. “And what about you?”
I swallow hard, my fingers gripping the armrests of the chair.
“I don’t like seeing her like that.” I meet her gaze.
“I know this life. I know what we do, what we are. I don’t run from it.
I never have.” I pause, exhaling sharply.
“Blood, deals, risk, I’ve never blinked at any of it, but the way she watches me like I’m already half a ghost, that’s what I carry into every room now.
” I shake my head. “That stays with me.”
My mother watches me carefully, then she smiles. Not in amusement. In understanding. “My son is in love.”
I inhale sharply, shifting in my chair. “I didn’t say that.”
She tilts her head, like she’s seeing through me.
“You didn’t have to.” I clench my jaw, looking away.
“Love is not a weakness, Massimo,” she continues softly.
“You’re a strong man. A powerful one. But even the strongest men in our world fear losing the people they love.
” Her voice grows more serious. “But you must understand something.”
I glance at her.
“If something happens, it will not be your fault, my son. It will not be hers. It is this life.”
She leans forward, her voice gentle but firm. “You cannot protect her from all of it. Not forever. The only thing you can do is be the man she trusts. The man who stands beside her, even when she is afraid.”
Silence stretches between us.
I nod once. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”
My mother sighs, shaking her head slightly. “I know you’ll try.”
Her words linger, heavy in the space between us, and for the first time in my life, I realize, this war isn’t just about blood and power anymore.
It’s about what you may lose along the way.
The night air is crisp, the kind that settles deep in your lungs and reminds you the world is still breathing, even when the worst of men roam its streets.
The docks are quiet, the only noise is the lapping of the water against the piers and the low murmur of voices as my father and I step out of the black SUV.
In the distance you can see Blackstone Academy's lights on, standing on the rock, the sea hitting it hard, the road leading to the college from town is dead, not a single car on it.
My father walks ahead, his posture relaxed but his presence heavy. Men part for him—not out of fear, out of respect—and soon that will be me.
I follow, my eyes scanning the shipping containers stacked like metal giants along the docks. Another shipment, guns, cash whatever we needed this month. But tonight, the crates feel heavier, because this is the last deal before we burn the bridge.
Sebastian is already here, standing near a group of our men, watching as the Irish unload their part of the deal.
We don’t work with the Irish, not in any real sense, but we do business.
At least, we did before all this shit with Maria.
So, I have a feeling this will be the last, but my biggest question will be: if they aren’t using us to get things in and out of the city, who will they use?
Nothing happens in this city without us knowing about it.
Sebastian flicks his cigarette onto the ground when he sees me approach. “Took your time.”
I smirk, stepping beside him. “Father wanted to discuss details.”
He scoffs. “What details? It’s the same damn thing every time.”
And yet, tonight feels different. There’s an energy in the air, something unspoken, dangerous.
The Irish men unloading the crates aren’t talking. No joking, no banter like they usually do. They’re stiff. Alert. They know. They fucking know Maria isn’t marrying Liam.
I glance toward my father, who’s speaking with Callahan, one of the higher-ups in the Irish family, one who also for some reason hates the O'Brien family I mean it’s not like all the Italians like each other, the Russians fight among themselves all the time, so whatever the Irish are fighting about, is not our business.
My father’s voice is calm, controlled. He never lets emotion show. But I can tell even he feels the shift in the air.
Tension. A fuse waiting to be lit.
I walk toward the closest crate, tapping the side of it twice. One of our men steps forward with a crowbar, prying it open.
Stacks of cash, neatly bundled. Another crate is opened. Weapons.
It’s all there. Business as usual.
The Irish are still watching us like wolves waiting for the right moment to strike. I step back to Sebastian, lowering my voice. “They’re tense.”
“That means we’re doing something right.”
Callahan finally speaks, addressing my father. “This deal was made in good faith.”
My father nods. “And the shipment is here. Everything accounted for.”
Callahan’s jaw tightens. “A different deal was made before this one, wasn’t it?”
There it is.
Sebastian exhales sharply, muttering under his breath, “And here we fucking go.”
I step forward before my father has to say anything.
“Your problem is with Liam. Not us. Our business has always been good, they’re the ones who fucked you over, not us.
” I need to be clear—we’re not friends with the O’Brien family.
After the wedding, we won’t even be enemies. It will be worse than that.
Callahan’s sharp gaze lands on me. “You think we don’t know how your family moves, boy?”
He calls me boy like it’s an insult. I smile like I’ve already buried him twice in my head. “Careful how you talk to me, Callahan.”
His lips curl in a half-smile, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “All this chaos for a girl who kissed you once?” There is humor in his tone, and all I do is smile.
Tilting my head, voice dropping, I say, “No. For the girl who'll wear my ring.”
For a moment, no one moves. The Irish watch us. We watch them. A game of patience. A test of limits.
Callahan finally exhales, shaking his head like we’re nothing but reckless kids. “Enjoy her while you can, boy.”
Then he nods to his men, turning away. I watch him until he gets into his car and wait for my father to say something. Sebastian walks to the car, leaving me and my father alone.
“You’re starting to show everyone, you’re next in line.
” His voice is full of pride and nothing else.
“They think they can do business without us, but guns, drugs, and money come through us, and anyone who tries to do business in other places we will fix.” Dad claps my shoulder. “They’re starting to see it.”
“See what?” I ask.
“That this city already answers to you.”
The shipment is done. The deal is settled.
But the real war? It’s only just beginning.