Epilogue
Husband of a Don
Salvatore
Two years later
“My shipments had better arrive as scheduled. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y-yes, Mr. Bennici,” Aronni, a new employee, stammers over the phone.
“Fix it. If I have to make an appearance, I’ll make you disappear,” I say before hanging up. “Testa di minchia.”
“Testa mika,“ Aaliyah repeats with a gummy grin. Her curly bun bops from side to side. “Testa mika!”
“Don’t repeat that,” I tell her in Sicilian.
Brown doe eyes light with mischief. She’s not listening to shit I said. “Testa.”
“Aaliyah.” My tone is stern.
She smirks before yelling, “Mika!”
Jeremiah stirs in the baby carrier, wrinkling my suit. He wails.
“Cazzo,“ I mutter.
“Katzoo!“ Aaliyah jumps in circles.
“Waah!”
“Katzoo!”
Stephanie pops her head out of the back door. “What you out here teaching my kids, Sally? I’m still learning Sicilian and Italian, but I know dick and fuck when I hear it.”
“Difuk.” Aaliyah stomps in a circle.
I roll my lips and kiss the top of Jeremiah’s head as I rock him back to sleep.
These kids are a menace. I’ll kiss Trouble’s feet for wanting to hold off on having our own.
We agreed one is enough for us. Between these baby-wearing gadgets, sleep deprivation, and the “terrible” stages, I’m not afraid to admit I fear what we might spawn.
Aaliyah has her mother’s mouth and her father’s energy.
There’s no telling what mixing my genetics with Bianca will bring.
A mini-me with a Fisher-Price kill container most likely.
Stephanie slogs across the stone pavers on the balcony. Her eyes are half-closed, her scarf falling off the side of her head.
She motions for Jeremiah.
“Go back to bed,” I say. “I got him. Wipe the spit-up off your shoulder. We’ll see you in a few hours.”
Aaliyah tugs on my suit trousers. “Amunì.“ She’s in a purple one-piece.
“Get your rock shoes,” I tell her in Sicilian. Andrea wants his kids to learn both languages. He only speaks in Italian, and I cover Sicilian when we see each other weekly.
“Thank you,” Stephanie yawns.
“That’s what I’m here for. Go. Amunì, Aaliyah.”
“Ni videmu, Mamma.“ Aaliyah waves before she takes my hand to go to the private beach club I bought two years ago. Her home has a swimming pool and a sun deck, but her mama needs her rest. If Andrea had his way, she’d be pregnant with numbers three and four.
Andrea and Stephanie moved to Capri after they got married.
Aaliyah was only a few months old then, but the island has become their home.
Stephanie officially retired from traditional work after moving to Italy.
We use her nursing skills for special circumstances, but she’s living the life of a housewife otherwise.
We purchased a property next to theirs and spend a couple of days a week here. It’s in the same community as Elio’s house, to keep the family close. Vince comes over throughout the summer and winter. He’s adamant about not leaving Baltimore, but he stays in touch.
Nonna travels between Sicily, Naples, and Paris. Alfonso officially retired to dedicate the rest of his life to her. He purchased a home in Scicli for them with the wedding gift I gave them. No way he’d be dipping in and out of her room without making an honest woman out of my grandmother.
“Ciao, Mr. Bennici, Ms. Trapiani, and Mr. Trapiani,” the host greets us in Italian at the beach club. “I have lunch from your restaurant on the way if you’d like to make your way to your cabana. There’s hot water waiting for Mr. Trapiani’s baby bottle.”
Aaliyah and I spend an hour in the pool after we eat and a few of my business calls.
My restaurants are now available in four of Preston’s hotels for an exclusive experience.
We have plans to build throughout the Americas, but I wanted to start small if we get on each other’s nerves…
or I want to shoot him. The partnership gives us an excuse to visit each other.
We take turns visiting each other’s families.
Jeremiah coos as I reapply sunscreen to his chubby face. His button nose spreads with his wide smile under the boat hat Stephanie packed in his diaper bag. He and Aaliyah look exactly like Andrea, which is likely why Stephanie wants four kids.
A boat honks in the distance.
“Papà!” Aaliyah waves from the railing at Andrea approaching.
Her eyes are on her father.
Mine are on my wife.
The wind picks up Trouble’s hair, brushing just above her shoulders. Her dark sunglasses mask her eyes, but the smirk building on her lips is visible from here.
Elio upended the Fratellanza, turning mafia tradition on its head.
Bianca and Andrea are now co-dons. Andrea handles weapons and Trouble oversees operations.
In under two years, she’s streamlined processes, improved performance, and implemented new policies for better work-life balance.
Loyalty is at its highest, though there were one or two people she made an example of who had words for Elio’s Black granddaughter taking over a white male organization.
I thought I was the violent one, but my baby pulled some shit I never thought to do.
She had one man’s ass skinned before she left him out in the sun and dropped him into the sea.
The other had his toenails removed. He had to give her the protective layer that regrew every couple of weeks for half a year as payment and wear open-toed sandals in her presence.
If she felt disrespected, she’d pour salt over them.
Ruthless.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and peek at the security cameras in our basement in Catania.
A doctor injects Michele with a serum. He jolts awake in a cold sweat.
For two years, he’s begged and cried for Bianca to kill him.
He still has his fingers and toes, which is a minor feat.
True to her word, my wife has made him suffer for the pain he caused her mother and their family.
Snitches pointed their fingers at others involved in Michele’s attempt to take over my territories once word spread about his capture.
The police cleared me of any wrongdoing in Agostino and his sons’ deaths.
That didn’t stop blood from shedding to make an example of Michele.
Through my union with Bianca, we united the families as Ziu and Elio wanted, but on our terms. The Scilari is a historically Black organization and will remain that way.
As my wife, Bianca has full access to the Bennici family and the alliance.
She holds meetings with me. Not as my spouse, but my equal.
With the partnership between the Fratellanza and Scilari solidified, my uncle officially stepped away from the business and Sicily.
He moved to Costa Rica with Renata, who signed Eden over to Andrea.
We’ve become untouchable through the expansion of our networks. With power and territories across Sicily and Southern Italy, our enemies went into hiding. The Preda tried to regroup after Tino’s death. With no remaining members of the Messina family alive, the oldest mafia family crumbled.
“My baby girl,” Andrea says in Italian. He crouches to Aaliyah’s height and stretches his arms for a hug. Fatherhood looks good on him. So do the custom suits he finally wears.
“Hi, my love.” I peck Trouble on the lips after she hugs Aaliyah and kisses Jeremiah. I slip my tongue into her mouth and settle my hands over her ass, filling out a pencil skirt.
“Come get your baby, Drea,” she chuckles between kisses.
Andrea shakes his head. “We’ll see you two at the house later.” He clips the baby carrier in place and takes Aaliyah’s hand.
I pump my erection into my wife.
Her brow lifts. “That for me?”
“Always. How’s the life of a don?”
She smiles. “Exciting. I missed you today.”
“I always miss you.” I turn her to face the Tyrrhenian Sea and rest my chin on her shoulder. “I’m thinking about stepping back from the Scilari to focus on my legitimate businesses.”
Her gaze swings toward mine. “How do you feel about that?”
I release a long breath. “Good, actually. Revenge is the reason I got into this business. I don’t live that life anymore. I have love, family, and peace. Andrea and I rebuilt our families. There’s good people in place to help him lead. I can step in as a consultant when needed or for wet work.”
“And there it is,” she laughs. “What if I scaled back my time in Naples?”
“I would never ask you to do that, love. The Fratellanza is part of your legacy.”
“Yes, but you’re my legacy too. The most important part. Plus”—she turns to face me—“I thought I married a fisherman. Let’s get the house in Mazara de Vallo we’ve been eyeing. You can move your operations there if it makes sense, and I can shift—”
My mouth crashes into hers. I don’t know how I got lucky with Bianca, but I’ll spend the rest of eternity in gratitude. She brought light to the darkest places in my life.
Quannu amuri tuppulìa, ‘un lu lassari ‘nmenzu la via. When love knocks, be sure to answer it, as my father would say.
“Are you okay being married to a fisherman?” I have millions in the bank from my businesses, but semantics.
My wife’s smile is infectious. “Yes. Are you okay with being married to one of the biggest crime bosses in Italy?”
I smile back. “You’re my kind of trouble.”
THE END