Chapter Thirty-Eight
ENZO
Lola is quiet on the drive back to Brooklyn. This is one of Dad's SUVs.
Most of Dad's men are back at the house, and we have a few flanking us.
We lost a handful of people, but luckily we wiped most of Dom's people out. His property and assets are Costa's now. He offered me half, and Dad let me decide, but I said it was payment for helping me.
I know Dad was happy with my answer.
I glance at Lola as we hit the bridge. "What's on your mind?"
"It's not dirty."
I laugh. "Pity."
"No, I was..." She turns and looks at me. "Did you know your dad apologized?"
"For what?"
"Being mean to me, blaming me. Did you know he'd come through like that?" She pauses. "Maybe he's not a complete asshole after all."
"Dad was a great help in rescuing both you and Lyndall." The words sting a little, but I keep going. "He sped it up, guided me with some of the ways of the old guard mafia. I'm more of a hacker than a mafioso."
"Maybe you're a multitasker."
I laugh again. "Maybe I am. Maybe you are too. You handled that fucking gun like a pro."
"Or like a pregnant woman out for vengeance."
"Or that. But yeah, he helped. We might not ever see completely eye to eye, but, you know, maybe we're finally reaching a point of mutual respect."
"And you'd like that?"
I think about it. "Yeah. I think I would. And you know what? I think he might love being Grandpa Mario."
"I probably wouldn't use those words." But she's smiling.
What I'd like to do is curl up with her, and when she's asleep, give in to the shaking, the fact that I almost lost her. Lost them.
All three, Lyndall, Squish, Lola.
But they're all safe.
When we get home, Con is here, opening the door. There's a bruise on his face, and he favors his right arm over the left.
I frown. "You okay?"
"The three who came at me are dead."
I take that as a yes.
Lola is still in the fucking wedding dress, so I scoop her up and take her to the elevator and up to our floor.
When we get to the bedroom, I strip her down, kick off my shoes, and dump my phone. Then I turn on the shower and take her in there with me.
I don't care if I'm still dressed. I just want her clean. So, I put her soap on her sponge and wash her lovingly.
It doesn't matter how hard I am or how I long to turn this into one of our sexual games and plunge into her.
I don't.
What I do is just get her clean, wash her hair, and then hold her as the water sluices down.
When she raises her head, I turn it off and wrap her in a towel, stripping myself down now so I can dry her.
"I'm not an invalid," she mutters.
I steer her to the bed and pull the covers over her, going to the closet and dressing.
"Aware of that. But give me this. Let me take care of you.
Let me treat you as if you are frail and something that might break.
You're so fucking special, precious, and important to me that.
.." I suck in a breath. "This is as much for me as it is for you.
I need to do this. So, let me pamper you. "
She nods. "Then pamper away. Can I have some tea?"
"Of course." I grab my phone that's got a million messages on it, and the top one is from Dad.
I bound down the stairs, then into the kitchen, fill the kettle, and switch it on.
I read through the messages.
I put a chamomile tea bag in the mug, grabbing the first box of herbal teas I see.
There are jobs that are coming in for The Syndicate. One text from Cade. One from Silas.
There is also the message from Dad.
I read them.
Cade
Jack'll be home tomorrow. In a twist, he's staying with us for a couple of days. VIOLET's idea.
I roll my eyes.
Me
She's just being a good sister-in-law.
Cade
Ass. I know that.
Me
All good here.
Then I read Silas's.
Silas
Message from Zayne. Jersey is out of his jurisdiction, but he has some favors he's called in. Your family won't have been there. You want to put Costa in?
Me
No. If the asshole who called for war can be mixed up in that, do that.
Silas
Aye aye, captain asswipe.
I take a breath. Then read Dad's.
Dad
FYI fresh ginger tea for Lola. If you don't have any, use a teabag. But then get ginger. Your mom found it the most soothing thing for her. Recipe to follow.
I read it three times.
My eyebrows rise as I read the "boil fresh ginger and pour into a mug" 'recipe,' and then I dump the chamomile and dig through the cupboard, hitting on the ginger tea.
When the kettle is done, I take the teabag upstairs and make a mental note of a tea station for her. Or at least a kettle.
"Here." I hand her the mug.
She sits up, and her tits are on display.
I try not to ogle, I really do.
Then I force my gaze up. "What did you do to my Dad?"
"Pardon?"
I shrug. "He's lecturing me about ginger tea. Real ginger tea. He sent a recipe."
She smiles. "Mario got me some at the hospital, and it helped. He said it's what your mother drank when morning sickness hit."
"Shit. Do you think he just had a stroke or something? Got punched in the head? Because, since when is he fatherly?"
"Maybe since always. But nearly losing Lyndall made him allow it to rise to the surface?"
"Or it's you." I climb onto the bed with her, pulling her gently against me so she doesn't spill her tea. "You know, I plan to make sure you relax and don't lift a finger for the rest of your pregnancy."
"That sounds restrictive and boring."
I frown. "I almost lost you. That's not happening again."
She sets down her mug and snuggles against me. "You can't control life."
"I can. It's my job to make sure there is zero stress on you and Squish for the rest of his free ride inside you." I brush her hair from her face.
She laughs. "So romantic."
"I'm trying." I nuzzle her neck, then turn her to face me.
We're close to one another.
"I know I owe you a real apology. So, here it is. I'm sorry for lying to you about your dad and Lyndall's mom. I should have told you when I found out...when I suspected it, and talked to you about the best time to tell Lyndall."
"You should have told me you were Alex too.
And honestly, I don't know what the right thing is with that news.
I'd have liked to have known it was a possibility, and definitely when you found out about her parentage, but I understand you were worried about whether our relationship could handle it. " She takes my face in her hands.
"Fuck, I don't deserve you."
"I'm just hoping you can now see we are strong enough—I'm strong enough—to handle anything that comes our way."
I kiss her tenderly on the lips. "I don't deserve how amazing and understanding you are."
She snuggles in closer. "That is true. Now, seriously. What do you think is going to happen between Lyndall and your dad?"
I sigh. "I don't know. He's the only father she has ever known, and it's not like she can forge a relationship with her real father."
"Do you think my dad knew the truth?"
Her mom didn't show any hints of leaving my father, but maybe? He might have guessed, or at any rate, it's likely he knew there was a possibility he was Lyndall's dad."
"I hope she'll be okay." She yawns.
I hope so, too. "Lyndall can handle anything."
Lola wakes when the front door slams, announcing Lyndall's return.
"I'm home!" Lyndall shouts.
She gives me a shove. "Go. I'll be fine." But she pulls me back and kisses me.
I kiss her back and smile. "You want me to stay now?"
"No. You should talk to her. I just wanted a goodbye kiss."
"I love your kisses. And I'm planning on that."
"Go easy on her. Lyndall's been through a lot."
I know that.
I bound down the stairs to find her in the kitchen, making pop tarts.
I eye the box on the bench.
"Where did those come from?" I do not have any pop tarts.
"Mario." She shoots me a look as she drags the box to her. Then she pours herself a Coke. "Are you here to ruin my life in some other way?"
My jaw clenches. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I knew earlier."
Lyndall softens and nods. "The affair isn't your fault. I'm not even that angry at you anymore. I just needed to vent my anger somewhere."
"Glad to be of service." Then I switch from light to potentially dark. "So, how did things go with Dad?"
Lyndall laughs. She looks at me. "Awkward. But...there's room. I think I need time away from him to process all of this. Is it okay for me to stay here indefinitely?"
I don't know what indefinitely means for her, but either way, I'm more than happy to have her here. So, I nod. "Of course, it is."
Then I clear my throat. She needs her friends and some kind of life outside her music one.
"Lyndall, I might have some other news that will cheer you up."
She claps her hands. "Pop tarts for life?"
"No. I'll allow you to see Luke—as friends—on the condition that you promise you'll never have sex." Then I think about it. "With him or anyone. No sex. Ever."
Lyndall looks at me like I'm crazy, eyebrows raised. "Never?"
I mean, never is unreasonable, she is right. And I can be reasonable. Right?
"Well...not until you're forty. At least."
"How about I discuss it with you first?"
"Fuck, no."
She frowns. "Why not?"
"Because...you're my sister."
"Not technically."
I recoil. "Like my sister, then. I've known you since before you were born. So, just do what I say."
"No. You're my brother."
I start to smile.
She shrugs. "So, I'll talk it out with you."
"What?"
Lyndall nods. "If I start heading to pound town tomorrow, I'll tell you. Because, you know, as siblings, we should talk."
The smile vanishes. "God no. You're not doing a thing until you're very much legal."
"Is it seventeen in New York State?" She looks up at me, waiting.
"Nineteen," I say, lying.
Lyndall puts her hands on her hips. "I think you're wrong."
"Please wait until you're twenty." I push it out between clenched teeth.
If she won't see reason, I'll fucking make sure whoever the guy she's got eyes on does. Luke, some slimeball Italian from fucking Rome, a fuck boy, shit, even a girl. Whoever it is, I'll make them not touch her until after the wedding.
I'm vaguely aware it's a little of a different rule for me than for her, but tough shit. "At least."
"I might slip."
"Oh, trust me, you won't."
"But what if I do? You don't want to know? 'Cause I'll tell you. So...do you want to know?" And the little wannabe minx flutters her eyelashes at me.
I shudder. "Are you insane? No. Just make sure you're legal."
Fuck, I think my whole body is on fucking fire with how itchingly horrible this conversation is. "And then talk to Lola instead."
She laughs and hugs me.
"Deal. Thanks, fake big brother."
No man is going to stand a fucking chance.