Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Tre
Neither one of us has mentioned my family beyond Joaquin asking how many brothers I have. I don’t know if it just hasn’t crossed his mind or it doesn’t matter to him. I doubt it’s either of those. Neither of us wants to cross that bridge, but we’ve come to it.
I observe him, assessing his expression for even a flicker of emotion.
Steadfastness.
That’s what I see. Granted, he won’t let me know a single thing he feels or thinks unless he wants me to.
That’s not just shyness but a learned trait.
I’ve noticed the New York syndicate men can turn into mannequins when they want.
Completely devoid of any outward emotional signs.
The Boston men are like that too, but not to the disconcerting extreme the men in this city are.
What I’ve seen so far is what Joaquin’s volunteered.
“I know who your parents are, Tre. Tía Elle told me the next day. Your father will try to murder me, but it doesn’t deter me.”
He doesn’t exaggerate. If I’m pregnant, my father will go on a rampage if my mother doesn’t find out either before or at the same time as him. Granted, Mom won’t be much better. She’s likely to lead the charge, but at least I can talk them off the battlefield if they’re together.
“Joaco, it might cause World War III, but no one in my family decides for me. Is your family bracing for that already?”
“Prepared for, not bracing for. They saw us together at the reception. They know I’ve had a crush on you. This—us—comes as no surprise.”
He’s adorable when he says he’s had a crush on me. I don’t know any thirty-something-year-old guy who’d describe his feelings that way. I squeeze his hand.
“I’ve had a crush on you too.”
He winks at me. “I know.”
Fuck. The man is sexier than sin incarnate.
I noticed some of the single women ogling him earlier. He’s the last single man in the family, and I believe the hottest. I wanted to claw the eyes out of one woman who was far too cozy with him. He didn’t reciprocate but neither did he extract himself from her embrace as fast as I wanted.
Now, he’s holding my hand. It was my cunt he was in only minutes ago. I see those same women eying me. It takes everything to keep from gloating, especially since this could be dead in the water if things blow up between our families.
“Tre, my family will protect us no matter what. We don’t do arranged marriage. We’re only with people we l—care about. That means you’re one of us now.”
I stare up at him.
L—
Was he going to say love?
If it was like, he would’ve just said that.
He can’t love me yet, but is that what he wants? What he sees?
“That just means you stand to lose more.”
“As long as it’s not you, nothing could be worse.”
I know he’ll lie to me. Many, many times.
Countless times. He’ll lie about where he is, what he’s doing, and who he’s with.
He’ll do it with a clear conscience, and half the time, I won’t know it’s a lie.
But he’ll do it to protect me, his family, his men, and the families that depend upon his.
I get that. I’ve lived with the men in my life doing that since I was born.
However, nothing about his declarations has felt like even a hint of a lie.
This is something I don’t think he’d lie about.
Besides his mother killing him for something so dishonorable, it’s just not in him.
Despite acknowledging how disastrous this could be for our families, I still feel safer with him than I ever have.
Safer than when I’m with my father, brother, cousins, and uncles.
Safer than I did with Steven when we were both still too young to understand what this life would demand of us.
He turns toward me, and it’s as though he can see into my thoughts. I feel like he gets me.
“Chiquita, you know better than most syndicate women what it means to be with a man in my position. You must have seen it with your father and brother. Maybe even with Steven. You know I’ll lie so many times you’ll lose count far too soon.
But I can swear to you on everything I am, I will never lie about my feelings for you.
I can never give you all of me. I wouldn’t want to because there’s part of me I’m too ashamed for you to see even a hint of.
But what I can give you, I give all of it. ”
It should elate me that he’s offering me this, but it doesn’t because I can’t give him all of me either. I can’t divulge why, so I can’t even hint that I’m in the same boat. I already feel my loyalties tested.
“Quino, Tricia.”
We turn toward Enrique, and I brace myself for I don’t know what.
Joaquin’s nickname catches my attention.
I didn’t know that was short for his name, but I like it.
I like that it’s different from what I call him.
It’s like how he only calls me Tre. I’ve heard it a few times for Teresa but never Patrizia.
“Sí, tío.”
“Are felicidades appropriate?”
I have a flash of fear that he knows I might be pregnant, but I realize he means us being a couple.
He wouldn’t offer them if he weren’t certain it was right to congratulate us.
I don’t miss the significance that it’s Enrique offering them first, and that he came without Elle.
He’s the head of the family, and his wife isn’t urging him to do it.
They weren’t standing together before he walked over.
“Sí, tío.”
Joaquin beams—actually fucking beams. His smile is so broad that it makes my chest ache with how my heart feels so full it’ll burst. Both men turn their attention to me, and I’m matching Joaquin’s excitement.
Any dread I felt moments ago is gone. There’s a warmth in Enrique’s gaze I never imagined such a powerful man could possess.
He looks so fucking happy for Joaquin—for me—for us.
There’s pride in his nephew that can’t be faked. The men embrace.
“Así tenía que ser, sobrino.”
I don’t speak Spanish. I don’t know if it’s too private to ask Joaquin what it means when we’re alone again.
Enrique reaches out his hand to me. I hesitate only for a breath before placing mine in his. It dwarfs mine just like Joaquin’s does.
“Se?orita, it means ‘this is meant to be, nephew.’”
I appreciate him interpreting his comment. No pressure or anything from something that sounds prophetic. I inhale before I answer.
“Thank you.”
I hope he’s right, and the weight of such a judgment doesn’t crush me if he isn’t.
Elle joins us, and her smile’s so familiar that it’s almost as good as having my mom here.
I step into her embrace and rest my head on her shoulder.
Her perfume is so familiar too. The feel of her body against mine is like coming home.
I knew I was anxious about all of this, but I didn’t realize how much until she hugs me.
It’s like I can let it go. It’s a different sense of security from what Joaquin gives me, but I value it just as much.
“I knew you’d never be my daughter, and that was for the best. Both of you were far too young. But I couldn’t be happier to know you’re my niece.”
She whispers to me, and I tense for a second before I feel boneless.
The acceptance is what I need, knowing the inevitable fallout that’s coming.
It’s the foregone conclusion that Joaquin and I will be together forever that’s daunting.
But as it plays through my head, I know it’s what I want already.
She’s saying it without knowing whether her suspicions are right.
She isn’t speculating either. It’s just fact.
When I straighten, I know Joaquin didn’t hear her because his expression’s grown pensive. But he relaxes when I dip my chin. I step back, and he slides his arm around my waist.
God. Nothing has felt better than leaning against him and feeling like his body can shield me from anything.
Holding hands was discreet. People might not have noticed. But this—this is him clearly staking a claim.
I wrap my arm around his waist in return.
He just relaxed.
He wants this too. The intimacy and the possessiveness.
It is possessiveness when you’re among a pack of lions and lionesses.
Just like he’s telling every man here I’m taken, I’m doing the same to the women.
A few men smiled at me earlier, but I knew none would approach me.
Not because I’m a Vizzini. I doubt any of them know, but because I’m an unknown.
But the women who looked at Joaquin looked too long and with too much interest.
Back off, bitches. He’s mine.
I didn’t lie when I told him I’d kill before sharing him.
I could claim it must be the first signs of pregnancy hormones. The drive to protect what’s mine. But let’s be real.
This is who I am.
I’m a Mafia daughter.
“Tío, Tía, we’re going to take off.”
Enrique’s brow furrows, but Elle nods. Her husband looks at her, and silent communication passes between them.
Elle shifts her gaze to me and cocks an eyebrow.
She’s asking permission. I grit my teeth.
As el jefe, he should know there’s even a possibility.
Not just because Joaquin is Enrique’s nephew, but because Joaquin’s whatever the Cartel equivalent is of a senior capo.
But I’m not ready for anyone to know there’s a possibility.
If it’s nothing, then I don’t want it to become a thing needlessly.
If I am pregnant, I want our parents to know first.
“Call me if you need me, Trish.”
That only makes Enrique more suspicious. It’s Joaquin who comes to my rescue.
“I’ll explain later. Now isn’t the time, Tío. Please let it be me who does.”
Enrique’s gaze darts from his nephew to me.
If his gaze could be in two places at once, it would be locked on my eyes while dipping down to my belly.
Life has made him far too perceptive. He says nothing, and his expression remains relaxed.
Maybe he’s hiding his thoughts, but I sense no disapproval.