Chapter 6
Xavier
The extensive grounds of the Marcello estate are obscured by rows of wired string lights, bathing the guests in a cream glow. Although there are multiple tents to draw in the crowds, most of New York’s elite are on the dance floor, coaxed in by the animated singer on stage.
Roses have been gathered for the occasion and arranged on every table. My mother basks in the attention she receives from caring for her gardens, and I find comfort in seeing her enjoy herself without my father’s presence weighing her down.
Tonight, we must be the epitome of opulence.
Grace.
Old money.
All these people dining on three-course meals and sipping French champagne must forget how many rumored deaths this family is linked to.
This grand event, celebrating the merging of Marin’s life work with my father’s, is sufficient to give me sole control of the dockyards—the harbor itself.
It’s enough to secure warehouses for the training of new recruits.
The money poured into this single night is well worth the business deals that will come out of it .
“ What a night!” The senator lowers into the seat beside mine, paying no mind to the three men barricading my back. “What a turnout.”
“Thank you for coming, Senator. It’s appreciated.”
He snatches up his scotch. In silence, I watch him berate one of the servers. Somehow, it’s her fault that his ice melted in this summer heat. Falling in line, as anyone would do around someone with so much authority, she hurries off to fetch him another.
Drunk off his ass, he’s unaware of how closely I've been studying him, strategically noting how his wedding ring’s been tucked safely into his breast pocket, how his perverse gaze has been continuously wandering to a young woman on the dance floor since he arrived.
Via. One of my cousins.
With a sigh of disappointment, he recalls our last conversation. “Your father was a remarkable businessman, but our past had complexities. When I saw how you increased your wealth over the past year, I admit, I was goddamn impressed.”
“Grazie.”
Deep down, he knows precisely how I expanded our empire.
It’s why his eyes divert, unable to hold my gaze for too long.
The blood, sweat, and tears—the absolute horrors—it takes to win a war amongst the most powerful houses in the city is something he couldn’t begin to fathom.
The global hub is practically mine. Only Staten Island is holding out.
Chicago is primed for an all-out siege. Within a year, we seized control.
After eighteen months, we positioned our people across the city.
In the media, on television. We’ve infiltrated Wall Street, the export sector, the police force, and now… the government.
The senator props his arm on the linen tablecloth, blinking lazily, the edge of his tuxedo sleeve dipping into a steaming bowl of zuppa di vongole. “I thought we could continue our conversation. ”
He’s an absolute mess. “We’ve already gone through this at length, Senator. I require forty percent of the earnings.”
“Forty percent is outrageous.”
“It’s my price.” I settle back, a chilled bourbon resting on my knee. “My hand of associates will extend to you. You will gain access to new routes. You’ll be able to afford to offer me forty percent.”
“And if I choose not to take you up on this?”
My lips remain sealed until the two men at the opposite end of the table take their cue to leave, standing to join their women on the dance floor.
“The port is under my control, Senator. Any deal to bring goods in will eventually end up on my desk, so I think you should save yourself the trouble and agree with me.”
The brown soup has stained his white tuxedo. He combs back his streaked hair in frustration. Silence is clearly the key to unnerving him. The prospect that he’s the one in need of this relationship more is something he’s not used to.
“Xavier.”
At the use of my first name, my eyes lift.
The practiced indifference that comes to me like routine fades with just one glance at the woman who raised my wife. Not her birth mother. Courtney .
Soldiers appear at her sides to prevent her from approaching, but I raise a hand, offering a contrite smile to my companion, choosing to let this desired deal wait another day. “I’m sorry, Senator. This is important.”
“But Marcello?—”
I stand, adjusting my tuxedo. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Placing a hand on her back, I nod to Dario, who informs the others to stay back while I guide her into the house. The noise and chatter dwindle as I close the sliding door. Before I can turn, she’s surrounding me in warmth, sniffling into my clothes .
“Have you heard anything? Anything about her?”
One of my first acts as Don was to pay her a visit, as I knew Sophie would have wanted. I eased Courtney’s concerns by letting her know that Sophie was safe in a location of her choosing. As much as I wanted to urge her to follow my wife, telling even one person could jeopardize her.
“No, I haven’t.”
That disappoints her. She paces the pattern on the vintage carpet. “I lie up at night thinking about her. She’s out there all alone, no one to look after her.”
“She’s safer there than she would be here.”
She shakes her head resolutely. “That’s not true. She’d have you if she were here.”
“Courtney—”
“You promised to protect her! You made vows—till death do you part!”
Her words cut deeper than any knife could.
“I’m keeping that promise, Courtney. Look where you are.
Look at the Italian faces beyond this door.
Those people believe my wife is dead. If they knew any different, it would seep into a network so intricately wound that her location would be uncovered within days.
She would be hunted, simply because people want to hurt me.
Every damn day, someone schemes for my death.
Enemies are lurking in every corner, trying to find my weakness. ”
Tears course down her cheeks. She keeps silent, listening.
I understand her pain. More than anyone, I do.
“She wanted to be free of this.” I inhale deeply, accepting the truth. “Well, this is all I am.”
“You’re wrong.” She inches up to me, her gaze probing the darkness around my eyes. It’s more than just a lack of sleep, and she understands that. She squeezes my hand. “You are so much more than this. Sophie could see it. Bo can see it. I can, too. ”
There’s a soft tap on the soundproof glass.
When Bo and Dante enter, followed by Zeke, Courtney’s exasperation is replaced by excitement.
As they embrace each other, I'm transported.
To days when we gathered in her small apartment, drinking till dawn.
Days when Sophie and I would fumble around her kitchen, always failing to cook something decent for her.
Wherever I looked before, Sophie was there, right at my side. My hand always sought hers, relaxing when I felt her warmth.
Eighteen months I’ve been cold. Ice cold.
“I hoped you’d come,” Bo says pleasantly. “I sent the invitation months ago.”
As much as I love that woman, seeing her now only distracts me.
“Excuse me,” I say, heading for the doors when Dario hails me. I know Courtney’s eyes are latched onto my back.
She speaks to them when she believes I'm out of earshot. “I'm worried about him.”
“So are we.”
“May I have an audience with you?”
Relieved the person asking isn’t keen to score a business deal, I take my mother’s outstretched hand.
She glows brighter than the moon over our heads as I guide her onto the dance floor.
The guests twirl around us, some more experienced than others.
Laughter is clearly infectious, springing from person to person.
My mother grins, but her excitement fades to concern when her attention returns to me.
“I don’t remember the last time I saw you smile, figlio.”
“I'm fine.”
She shakes her head. “No… I don’t think so.”
Nodding once to the police commissioner, who brought some model as his date, I feel my mother adjust the rose on my tuxedo jacket. “That girl hasn’t stopped looking at you since she arrived. Most women have their sights set on you. You’re quite the bachelor?—”
“I have no desire for that.”
“You’re a man, aren’t you? What do you mean? Your wife passed almost two years ago. You have no babies.” She doesn’t realize it, but neither of those statements is true.
By keeping her in the dark, I’ve had to continuously put off these desperate inquiries. It’s only natural for her to want grandchildren. She pats my chest. “I thought Sophia would be good for you. At first, I wasn’t sure, but I was certain she made you happy when I saw you together.”
Fuck me. Sophie is clearly the topic of choice today.
My gaze settles over her head, noticing a commotion.
The senator. He’s laid his hands on my cousin, pulling her right off the dance floor.
Dario is already waiting for the look I cast his way, a silent command.
He moves swiftly, approaching the senator’s nervous assistant.
A few words, and the young man hastily ends the distracting scene, guiding the drunken official off the dance floor.
Blissfully unaware of any of it, my mother continues to ramble. “You were with her for a long time, and she never got pregnant. Perhaps things were meant to be this way so God could give you children…”
Before she can finish that sentence, a sentence that turns my fucking stomach, I guide my mother’s hand into Dario’s grasp. As he dutifully draws her in, she huffs in frustration. “Xavier, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound cold. I just?—”
I’m wandering, dragging my feet through an excited crowd when I feel a vibration in my pocket. Opening the incoming message, I freeze, expanding the picture sent. It’s a child’s drawing. Isabella’s. She’s scribbled Daddy across the top .
She’s writing now. I'm not there enough to know that.
I join Bo on the relatively empty terrace, sighing with appreciation when he passes me a Peroni, popping off the cap.