Chapter 52
Samantha
One month later
I sip the ridiculously good pecan pie martini and watch Killian, who’s dressed in black slacks and a pale green dress shirt that brings out his eyes. Eyes that keep flicking back to me, despite the serious looking conversation he’s having with the boys. I smirk and lift my glass.
He shakes his head and excuses himself, crossing the room until he’s in front of me and sliding his hand behind my neck with a sigh.
As I tilt my head to look up at him, his breath is against my mouth as he whispers, “You keep lookin’ at me like that and we’ll not be stayin’ for turkey.” Then he kisses me like we’re the only two people in the room.
Only we’re not. There are at least thirty people at Sandro and Lennon’s Thanksgiving dinner. Including Celia, who’s recovered nicely and helping in the kitchen, her favorite place to be besides being with Rona.
Rona is making herself at home, currently hanging off the front of the white leather sofa, dangling a cat toy on the ground and giggling like crazy when Peaches pounces on it from beneath the sofa.
Killian keeps his arm protectively around my waist as we watch Mac and his wife cross the room—Mac still relying on his cane.
They take seats next to Rona, their eyes sparkling as they watch her.
Then Mary whispers something to Mac which makes him lift his gaze to us with a chuckle.
His smile warms my insides. It feels like acceptance. Like building a family.
Sure, it’s a family of dangerous men, but these men will protect us with their lives. And in a world full of men like Michael, I’ve decided I wouldn’t want anything less.
Lennon steps into the middle of the room. “Time to eat!” she announces.
We all file into the dining room and find seats at the table, which has been expanded to seat all the guests. It’s also stunningly set with cream and gold plates, candles and a plethora of steaming dishes in the middle. The turkey is in front of Sandro at the head of the table.
Two women in black uniforms fill wine glasses around the table.
Sandro kisses Lennon’s hand before he releases it and picks up his glass. Waiting for everyone to settle, he finally smiles at us all, one hand in his slack’s pocket.
“When the Commission sent me here to Tampa, I had no idea what to expect. I know what I hoped for.” He glances down at Lennon, whose creamy skin blushes under his heavy, adoring gaze.
“Thank God you took him back, Lennon,” Rocco interrupts. “Or he would’ve been a miserable bastard forever.”
The table erupts with laughter as Sandro shoots a dark look at his brother.
But then he reaches over and brushes his wife’s cheek with the back of his hand and sighs.
“He’s a dick, but he’s right.” He returns his attention to us.
“I’m a lucky man. And not just because I get to live out the rest of my days with the love of my life, but because of you all.
This is a day of giving thanks, and I’m thankful for the loyalty of good men.
” He reaches over and squeezes Gunnar’s shoulder.
“For family, both old and new.” At this, he smiles at Killian and me.
“And…” his smile grows until it lights up his dark blue eyes and it’s devastating.
“I’m thankful for the boy or girl who will be joining our family in about seven and a half months. ”
There’s a pause as everyone processes what he just said and then an eruption of shouts and clapping. Lennon is hiding her smile in her hands, shaking her head.
There’s a lump in my throat, and I reach for my napkin to dab beneath my eyes. I’m so damn happy for them.
Killian rests a warm hand on my thigh and winks at me.
Rona is on my other side, tiny fingers tearing apart a roll on her plate and feeding pieces of it to her Barbie.
I stroke her hair and then smile at Celia, who’s on her other side, also with tears in her eyes.
It’s been an emotional ride, and it’s nice to see her with happy tears for once.
We watch as Sandro’s men each rise to shake his hand and congratulate both of them.
Then Sandro ceremonially cuts the first slice of turkey before the two uniformed women begin to serve it. The room grows loud with the clinking of silverware, conversation and laughter.
At one point, I pause and take it all in. The food, the people, the joy, devotion and love these people share. And for the first time in my life, I feel part of something bigger than myself. Yeah, I’m beyond thankful.
***
After dinner, some of the guests leave, but Sandro’s core men are still here.
Rocco, Gunnar, Caelian, Fausy, Big Tony and Killian and Sully.
Lennon and I are the only women besides Celia, who’s watching a movie with Rona in the movie room.
We’re lounging around the pool deck, admiring the sunset and enjoying the cooler weather.
Killian and I are sharing a lounger. I’m leaning back into his chest, his arms wrapped around me, our legs tangled. I’ve never felt safer or more content.
Rocco is in the lounge chair to our right, his dress shirt unbuttoned, one arm slung over his eyes, the other hand clutching a glass of whiskey, when his phone buzzes in his pocket.
With a groan, he slides it out and holds it up to answer it. “Yeah.”
He sits up slowly, gray eyes moving to lock with Sandro’s as his jaw clenches beneath his close-cut beard. “You sure?”
All the men are alert now as Rocco’s eyes darken with a brewing storm.
“Okay. Thanks for the head’s up.” He disconnects the call and swings his feet to the ground, motioning for everyone to gather.
“That was my contact at National Bank. Apparently, Mayor Suarez just got a sizable campaign donation dropped in his account.” His nostrils flare. “From the Russians.”
“Oleg,” Sandro growls. “Knew I should’ve taken that motherfucker out while I had the chance.”
“What do you think he’s up to?” Gunnar asks.
Sandro glances around at each of his men. “He’s going to try to push us out. Get ready for war, boys.”
*******
Thank you for reading!