Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Cormac
I’m ready to crawl out of my skin by the time Joey walks through the door. I couldn’t focus on the brief I was drafting. I kept rewriting paragraphs, and I’ll still have to revise it tomorrow. I couldn’t concentrate for shite.
I stick my fingers in the water and decide the bath is the right temperature. If I fill it any further, the water’ll slosh over the side when we settle into it. We haven’t started talking yet. We shared a kiss that tempted me to fuck her against the wall. I barely found the restraint not to. Instead, I led her into our bathroom.
I think of this house as ours, not mine now that she’s here. It’s felt incredibly natural to share this space with her. I haven’t lived with anyone else since I moved into this house at the beginning of my junior year of college. I was already wealthy in my own right, just like my brother and cousins. Yeah, we have money thanks to our mob ties. But just like our fathers, we funnel most of that back into the organization. The bulk of our incomes come from our legal ventures. Not only do we feel like it’s the right thing to do—keep mob money in the mob—it also means our tax filings are clean as a whistle.
Waking up to Joey in our bed, making meals with her in our kitchen, and sharing this space makes me happier than I imagined. I think she feels the same, but I haven’t asked whether she sees this as a temporary remedy to the threat—threats—or whether she could see this being permanent. I don’t want to rush her, but I’m dying to know.
“Daddy, just being near you makes me feel better. But this is divine.”
She leans back against my chest, my thighs bracketing her hips. I lap water over her shoulders and tits before I rub her shoulders. Her sigh sounds soul deep.
“ Cailín , I’ve never looked forward to anything as much as I do being near you.”
She twists to look over her shoulder at me. She’s hesitant to share her thoughts, so I don’t rush her. Instead, I press a soft kiss to her lips.
“Is this where I belong?”
“Yes.”
My answer is immediate, but I don’t like how she’s too nervous to make that a statement. She was unsure I’d agree if she told me that’s what she wants. I don’t think it’s just the stress from today that makes her hesitate.
“Turn around, little one.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
She pushes up, and I slide forward. Her legs come over my mine and now bracket my hips like mine do hers. My hands go to her waist, and I pull her closer. Her pussy rubs against my cock. I’ve been hard as a fucking plank since I tasted her during that first kiss tonight.
“Do you know where you really belong, little girl?”
“Where, Daddy?”
I lift her, and her hands shoot out to my shoulders to brace herself. I give her a displeased look, and her hands lower. She smiles, knowing I’d never drop her. Her instinct doesn’t need to be to protect herself, even if that’s a natural reaction to suddenly changing positions. I slide her down my cock.
“This is where you belong, Joey. As a part of me, just like I belong as a part of you. I don’t want there to be an end and a beginning to us. I want us to be one.”
“Cor, I want the same thing. When you come in me, you leave a part of you with me. I still feel connected to you. But there’s nothing I can do to make it the same for you.”
“That’s not true. Knowing my cum is inside you and nowhere else makes me feel still connected to you. I hope one day that connection becomes more. That the connection is something that permanently binds us as one.”
Does she understand what I’m getting at? Or do I make no sense at all?
“Do you mean a child?”
“Yes.”
She stares at me dumbfounded. Is it shock? Or is it rejection?
I tug her hips, pulling her body entirely flush with mine before my right hand cups the base of her skull, and my left hand cups her jaw.
“Joey, I love you. You’re my future.”
I’m unprepared for how she throws her arms around my neck or the kiss that nearly knocks me backwards. She’s led our kisses before, and she’s been passionate when she does. She’s also been so tender it makes my heart ache.
But this kiss.
It’s intoxicating. It’s drugging. It’s all-consuming.
It’s everything.
When we pull apart, she leans to whisper in my ear.
“I don’t know whether you’re going to fuck a baby into me, or you’re going to make love to me to do it. But the only children I’ll ever carry, the only children you’ll ever father are the ones we make together.”
She leans back and cups my jaw with both hands.
“I love you, Cor.”
“I’m completely yours now and forever. I’ll never want anyone else, Joey. We belong to and with each other. Whether it’s this place or your place or somewhere new, I don’t want to change our living arrangement. Ever.”
“I don’t care where the roof over our heads is, as long as it’s the same one.”
Her gaze drops, and it feels as though she remembered something the moment she finished speaking.
“ Cailín ?”
When she looks up at me, I know she regrets what she said.
“Cormac, I meant what I said. But I shouldn’t have said it yet.”
She closes her eyes and inhales so deeply her shoulders rise, and her chest expands. She tries to move off me, but my fingers dig into her arse. Whatever she has to say makes her fear I’ll reject her. Whatever she has to say means we need to stay connected because it’s going to challenge our relationship. I won’t allow any distance to grow between us.
“You’re scared to tell me what’s on your mind. You know I won’t like it. But that doesn’t mean I won’t listen, and it doesn’t mean I’ll want you any less. Whatever it is, we deal with it together.”
“You say that now…Cormac, Bracero isn’t my full last name. It’s Espinoza Bracero. I’ve told you I grew up near Chihuahua.”
NO! FUCK!
It’s my turn to close my eyes and compose myself. I take too long because she tries to get up again. When I tighten my hold on her arse, I know it hurts. She can barely shift, let alone get off me.
“I told you, you’re where you belong. You’re not going anywhere, cailín , until after we talk. Then, you aren’t going anywhere after that except to our bed with your pretty little pussy filled with my cum. Do you know why you’re going to keep every drop inside you?”
She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes.
“Because you have been mine since the moment we met, and you will be mine until my last breath. You think I’m going to reject you because you’re Jesus Espinoza’s daughter? Because your father is El Cazador . Because he heads the Culiacán Cartel, the most powerful Mexican cartel. Do you fear he’ll live up to his moniker? Will the hunter come after me?”
“I haven’t told him, but I believe my brother has.”
Double fuck me.
“Santiago? As in the newest member of the Junta Directiva ?” Board of Directors.
She nods.
Wonderful, her brother joined the El Corredor . The corridor or board of directors is the senior most leadership in a cartel. Her brother rose another rank in their hierarchy two years ago. He’s officially equivalent to Finn, who’s our second-in-command. He became a lugarteniente —lieutenant—or plaza boss while in college because he carried out a hit on an LA rival visiting NYC. He organized his own team of informants, then spent his spring break junior year tormenting the guy until he put the muzzle of his gun between the guy’s eyes and shot the back of his rival’s skull across the room. That cemented him as their cartel’s top official in New York, and he hadn’t even moved here from Mexico yet.
We met when my fist broke his nose during a fight that got men killed on both sides. His rival was one of our tornadoes—a liaison between cartels, or in our case, his cartel and our mob. He was a cameleo —camel—an OG member of a Baja cartel. The guy was nearly sixty and survived countless attempts on his life. Those types of members are named for the animal since they have the same lifespan. Santiago cost us six million dollars. I couldn’t kill him, and he couldn’t kill me without starting a war. I had to settle for the broken nose. He tried to stab me in return. I now have a beautiful pearl-encrusted switchblade.
“If Santiago knows we’re together, did he tell you he and I have met?”
Her face blanches so fast it scares me.
“Joey?”
I rub my hands up and down her arms before I pull her chest against mine. I’m gentle when I press her head against my shoulder.
“Joey?”
“Santi didn’t mention that.”
I barely hear her and have to strain to catch what she said.
“What did he say?”
“He was pissed. He said our father already knew, but I’m not convinced he does. I think Santi was giving me the chance to promise to break things off with you. I’m certain our father knows now if he hadn’t heard some other way. Maybe papá gave Santi the chance to talk to me before he intervenes. How do you know my brother?”
“We met during a business meeting.”
She sits back, her gaze sweeping over my chest and abs.
“Are any of those scars from him?”
“No.”
“Are any of his scars from you?”
“No.”
She’d curled her arms between us a moment ago, but this time she wraps her arms around me when she leans forward. I run my hand up and down her back.
“Cor, you say I still belong to you…Is that so you—are you?—”
She hesitated, then stumbled over her words. But I can guess what she meant.
“I won’t use you against them. You’re still mine because I’ve given you my heart. I hope I still have yours.”
“You know you do. I gave it to you, knowing I’d have to reveal this.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because I didn’t know if you felt the same way about me. If you didn’t, and this was going to end at some point, I didn’t think it was a good idea to say too much about my family.”
I feel like I should be enraged she kept such a massive secret. One that endangers my family. But I’m not because I understand. If we hadn’t met the way we did, I would have kept my position a secret as long as possible. I wouldn’t have rushed to admit my family is the New York mob. We come from the most fucked-up, twisted world.
“Cormac, can you forgive me for this? Or will you realize in the morning this is going to burn a hole through us?”
“It’s hardly ideal.”
She snorts but says nothing.
“I wish you’d told me sooner because I would have organized a different safety protocol. But considering my position and all the shite I’ll never tell you to keep you, my family, and the people who depend upon me safe, I understand your decision.”
“Are you silently angry?”
She was monumentally uncomfortable a moment ago. Now I hear the fear. Most people wouldn’t, but I’ve spent years causing that emotion in others and detecting when people try their best to hide it.
“No, little one. Worried. Resentful life put us in this position. But I’m not angry. Joey, I’ll never begrudge you keeping that secret. But I need you to promise me something, and it’s not negotiable. If you won’t, then we might meet an insurmountable problem. I won’t ask for your pledge until you hear me out.”
She sits up, so we can look at each other.
“I will never expect you to narc on your family. I will never demand—never ask—you to share family secrets about your father and brother’s business arrangements or how they lead their syndicate. But I expect you to tell me immediately anything and everything that happens that could endanger you and the family we’ll have.”
“You still want a family with me?”
I tip her chin up.
“I want a family with my wife.”
Her eyes open so wide I think I can see every inch of them.
“That isn’t a proposal, but I wouldn’t have brought you this close to my family and me if I haven’t seen a future with you since the beginning. Knowing your family connection now, you’ve felt the same way.”
“I have. I wouldn’t have risked so much if my heart didn’t know my future’s with you. Daddy, I feel guilty for not telling you earlier. You’re handling all of this with kindness and patience. I should have trusted you. I’m sorry.”
Tears well in her eyes again, and it breaks my heart. I hate knowing she fears anything, but it shreds me that she’s scared about our relationship.
“You’ve trusted me since the moment we met. I respect your decision because I would have made the same one. But I don’t think you’re forgiving yourself for what you believe you did wrong. I don’t want you to hold on to that. I’m going to make love to you or fuck you—whichever you need—then I’m going to spank you. Hard. I don’t believe you need a punishment, but you believe you do. Once I’m done, this is done. You don’t need to feel guilty about something you didn’t do, and you certainly won’t need to feel guilty after your act of contrition. You will not punish yourself any further.”
I know I sound controlling as fuck. I know I’m commanding her feelings. But the relief on her face tells me I was right. I’d rather dole out a punishment I don’t think she needs than let her punish herself far more severely than a paddle across her arse. I’d normally deny her any orgasms before or after a punishment, but I want her to know I love her. That I’ll do anything for her, not only to keep her safe but to make her happy. That I’ll share any and all of her burdens.
“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for not making me feel guilty about this and thank you for not making me feel bad about my twisted emotions. Today’s been a lot, and I don’t feel like I’m thinking straight. I need to clear my mind, and letting you be in control allows me to do that.”
She reaches back and pulls both of my hands from where they’ve settled, cupping her arse. She entwines our fingers.
“What do you need, Cormac? You’re giving without taking. I don’t want to take without giving.”
“I need that control. I need to know you feel loved and cherished. I need to know you’re okay.”
“Those are all things that come from you taking care of me. I want to know what I can do for you. How can I take care of you?”
“Love me.”
We finished our bath while I edged her. She’s so aroused as I carry her to our bed, she’s practically vibrating with need. She’s kissing along my neck, and I can barely focus enough to put one foot in front of the other. Since she’s so short, and I’m so tall, sometimes it’s difficult to kiss when we’re standing. But she’s wrapped around me, and it’s like having a feather resting on me. I’d easily carry her around with me all day, every day.
Fucking hell.
She’s tugging on my earlobe, and I’m ready to come as I walk. I’m as on edge as I made her. Denying her is one pleasure while in another way, torment. I don’t think I’ve ever needed to come as badly as I do now.
I pull back the covers and climb onto the bed, laying her back against the pillows before settling over her. We watch each other for a long time, then we move together as our lips meet. It’s another explosive kiss like the one she gave me, but we’re taking turns leading. I rock my hips, and she lifts hers to meet mine. But we’re slow, and I’m keeping it light.
“Do I make love to you, or do I fuck you?”
“Both?”
I smile because that’s what I want too, but I’d have done whatever she asked.
“Hold on to the headboard. If you let go, I risk hurting you. I don’t want to push your head into it.”
This isn’t about being kinky or me deciding how everything’s going to go.
“It’ll be rough, but I’m not your Dom, Joey. I’m your boyfriend who loves you more than anything.”
“I know, Cor. I’m not submitting to you, but I want it rough too. I need that.”
“So do I.”
She needs to know I still want her as much as I always have. That I’d devour her whole if I could. I need the same thing from her. Once she’s gripping the headboard, I draw back, almost pulling out, then slam my cock into her cunt as hard as I dare. She screams, her head tipping back into the pillow.
“Yes!”
I do the same thing two more times before I shift to kneel. I raise her hips and hold them in place as I hammer my cock into her. She lifts and lowers her hips as much as I allow while holding her in place. She lets go with her right hand and scores her nails along my abs. Her fingers curl while she does it, as though she’d sink claws into me if she could. Her legs wrap around my arse and push, egging me on to do more.
I feel the sweat beading on my forehead, but I do nothing about it. Perspiration glistens on her neck, and her cheeks flush. We’re in a trance together. I watch her abs clench, and I know she’s about to come.
“I’m so close, Cor. Don’t stop…I’m almost there…Yes…Fuck. I’m coming, Daddy.”
When I see her abs relax, the flutter near her cunt done, I ease her hips to the mattress. The tone changes. I lower my body as I rest on my forearms, mine pressed against hers. Our hands roam over each other, and I draw her left leg over my hip as her right foot pushes into the mattress for leverage. I circle my hips each time I sink to the hilt. We kiss throughout.
“Cor, I never knew just how momentous sex could be until I started having it with you.”
Her eyes drift closed as she concentrates. I want to watch every moment, revel in our connection. She’s right.
“It’s because we’re soulmates.”
Her eyes fly open as she nods. I settle more of my weight onto her, just like I know she loves. We come together before I roll us, so she lies sprawled across me. I never relax like I do around Joey. I never have any sense of peace unless I’m with her. The world ends at our door, and this is what I need. I need the escape, and only she gives me that.
As I gaze into her eyes, I see her mood shift. Forgiveness. Acceptance. She’s made her own peace with not telling me about her family.
“I don’t think you need the spanking anymore, do you?”
“No, Daddy.”
I stroke my hand up and down the outside of her arm as we bask in the afterglow.
We’re all on edge. These gatherings with all Four Families are only enjoyable for the family hosting it. The Irish, Russians, Italians, and Colombians never used to get together this often. But in the past five—almost six years—it’s been every few months. One wedding reception after another.
Everyone’s dressed to the nines, and we’re in a ballroom of one of the most exclusive hotels in the world. We’re rubbing elbows with the highest echelons of international businesspeople and aristocracy, but there’s not a single syndicate man in here who doesn’t have at least one knife at the ready. Since there are women and children present, none of us have guns. We leave those in our limos and town cars.
Dillan’s and Finn’s wives are pregnant and showing, so that has my cousins coiled tighter than a jack-in-the-box. Sean’s wife’s connections to the Boston and Montreal mobs make everyone wary of her, and the same is true for my sister-in-law with her connections to the Trenton mob. Shane’s wife’s protracted connection to law enforcement practically makes her a pariah. And our hosts watch Joey like she’s about to draw her own gun on them.
“ Felicidades Enrique y se?ora Díaz .” Congratulations, Enrique and Mrs. Diaz.
No one expected Enrique to remarry.
He hasn’t exactly been MIA lately, but he’s been less visible the last few months. With the way he looks at his bride, it’s no surprise he’s delegated more duties to his nephews. Enrique loves his wife as much as all the already-married syndicate men. This isn’t an arrangement like last time.
“Thank you, Cormac. Ms. Bracero, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“ Gracias, jefe . It’s nice to meet you, la patrona .”
Joey keeps her voice low, but understanding her position makes it obvious why she addresses Enrique as boss and his wife as “the boss lady.” The newest member to syndicate life doesn’t flinch, but it’s obvious she’s not used to the title yet. Perhaps Joey’s the first one to call her that.
“You as well, Ms. Bracero.”
Enrique looks past my shoulder, and I recognize his expression. I doubt either woman sees the disgust register, but I’ve been the recipient of that look enough times to know it.
“Santiago.”
Joey’s hand squeezes mine before we twist to see her brother standing behind us. He’s a handsome man, even if his nose still has a slight bump along the bridge.
You’re welcome, you little pissant.
The way he stares at his sister puts me on edge until he shifts his attention back to the newlyweds. It’s clear he’s displeased to see Joey and me together, especially since we’re holding hands. The Colombian Cartel didn’t invite nor welcome anyone outside their organization at the ceremony, so I didn’t know we’d see Santiago here. From the warning look Joey shoots me, she didn’t expect to see him either. She releases my hand and hugs her brother.
“Hi, Santi.”
“ Manita .” Little sister.
I hear the warmth in the endearment, and I relax. The embrace is genuine, and I can tell Joey’s relieved. When they step apart, Santiago and I shake hands. There’s a challenge, and I accept. He’s no weakling, but he’s not as strong as me. I practically crush his hand, and I’m certain he’d love to shake it out when we let go. He’s forced to shake Enrique’s now, and the jefe isn’t much gentler than me.
“ Hola , jefe, la patrona .” Santiago’s tone is deferential. Barely.
“Espinoza.”
Enrique’s mocking the younger man the same way he often does me. He did Joey a favor by using her preferred last name rather than the one she should go by and the one he uses to address Santiago.
Throughout this exchange, his wife remains unflappable. Either she’s naturally the most perfectly matched woman to her groom, or Enrique’s trained her not to react to anything or anyone tonight. Either way, I’ll warn my family she’s possibly even more formidable than Laura Kutsenko.
“Ms. Bracero, there’s someone I think you should meet this evening.”
Enrique points to Olivia Mancinelli, the Mafia underboss’s wife. She and her husband, Luca, just walked in with the rest of the Mancinellis.
Meet?
Why would he say that? Joey and Santiago are Olivia’s cousins.
Joey and I were the last of my family to move through the receiving line, so we’re still standing with Enrique and his wife when Salvatore, the don, and his wife, Sylvia, walk up. Salvatore’s gaze meets Joey’s as I introduce them. I can tell he’s girding his loins for something. He has that expression where he looks like he needs half a bottle of fiber.
Joey’s and Olivia’s matching gasps tell me why he looks so uncomfortable. I swing my attention to Enrique, who doesn’t bother to hide his smirk. Seeing the two women together makes me question how I didn’t guess Joey’s family connection immediately.
They’re near mirrors of each other, except for their hair and eye color. Olivia’s blonde, and Joey’s a dark brunette. Olivia’s got a unique shade of brown hazel she inherited from her father while Joey’s are deepening bands of brown. Otherwise, they could be sisters. The same height. Same build. Same shocked expressions.
Joey looks up at me, panicked, before looking at Santiago. He’s as stunned as his sister. She turns back to me, and I wrap my arm around her waist. Luca does the same to his wife as Olivia stares up at him. Luca doesn’t appear surprised by Joey but rather his wife’s reaction.
“Joey, has it been a while since you’ve seen Olivia?”
She doesn’t answer me, instead speaking to Olivia. “Who are you?”
“Who’re you?”
Olivia’s expression hardens into a look becoming the future la madrona —Godmother. It’s suspicious and superior. It takes only a second for Joey to revert to the haughtiness only a woman from as much wealth and status as Joey grew up with can command.
They stare at each other, and the tension crackles in the air. Clearly, they don’t know each other, and clearly, neither wants to get to know the other. Their suspiciousness is understandable given their respective positions in two of the world’s most powerful syndicates.
It’s Santiago who broaches the truth, and it surprises me how gently he speaks to both women. But only after shooting Enrique a glare that promises retribution for putting his sister in such an uncomfortable position on purpose. The older man did it for sport. His wife finally looks confused.
“Mrs. Mancinelli, you must be our cousin. I can’t think of any way you and my sister could look more alike unless you were our sibling, which I know you aren’t.”
“I don’t have any cousins.”
“But you have an uncle, Jesus Espinoza, don’t you?”
Olivia’s face drains of all color, and she sags against Luca. He pulls his wife closer, twisting to shield her from Santiago and Joey. He barely spares my girlfriend a glance before fixing Santiago with a menacing glare. The scar that runs from his cheekbone to below his collar only accentuates the harshness. I’ve known the man since we were in preschool. He means every bit of his silent threat.
“Did your father send you?”
Before Santiago can answer, Joey speaks up. Her voice trembles, but her expression doesn’t waver as she watches Olivia.
“Our father had a sister, but she died decades ago. She wasn’t old enough to have had children, and you aren’t old enough to be his sister.”
“My mother is alive and well. Your father’s a liar.”
“And your husband and every man in your family aren’t?”
Joey’s confidence is back as she pulls away from me. She casts her gaze over Luca, then Salvatore before sweeping it over the other Mancinellis who strain to hear what’s happening. I know the men in my family have conveniently crept closer. The Kutsenkos and their Andreyev cousins are keeping a close eye on this situation as they sip their cocktails.
“What the men in my family are, is no concern of yours. You should call your papí and ask him your questions. Let him know my opinion of him is even lower than it was when we had the misfortune of meeting.”
Joey shifts to square her shoulders, and Olivia does the same. If they were men, I’d expect them to pull guns on each other. I watch both women place their hands on their purses. I already know Joey has a knife in hers, and I expect Olivia has one too. This is escalating too fast. I dart my gaze to Luca at the same time he looks at me. We put our hands at our women’s lower back, but neither responds to us.
“You didn’t know about me, but it’s obvious your husband did. Maybe you should find out why he kept that secret.”
“Just like your boyfriend should explain it to you.”
“Yes. Except his family didn’t put a hit on you like yours did to me.”
“What?”
Santiago grasps Joey’s arm and twists her. I can tell he isn’t rough, so he’s still breathing.
“A couple men followed me from the subway. Then someone tried to run me over a few days ago, and someone’s causing trouble at work for me. Now it makes sense.”
She fixes her glare on Luca, who narrows his eyes. The accusation surprises him. I shift my focus to Salvatore, who looks pissed as he glares at Enrique, who looks ready to laugh. This tableau is attracting too much attention from outsiders.
“Enrique, this wasn’t cool. Joey, people are staring. We’ll finish this later.”
“We finish this now, Cormac. We can all step out of the ballroom.”
“That won’t work. You know my family won’t let us go alone, and neither will Olivia and Luca’s. Between the Mancinellis and O’Rourkes, we make up at least a third of the guests.”
“You and one of your men come with me, and Luca picks a man to go with him and his wife.”
“You go nowhere without me, manita .”
Santiago wraps her arm around his, and I think it’s anchoring her in place as much as it is to show support. He’s prepared for the stubbornness I discovered when Joey and I met, and she refused to get her arm checked out.
I shift my attention to Luca and lift my chin. He dips his. He’s agreed to step outside the ballroom, but it presents a challenge for me. I don’t trust Santiago enough for him to be the man who leaves with me, but I know he won’t leave Joey.
“Salvatore, you come with us, and so does Dillan.”
I look at my cousin, who’s the closest family member to us. I tilt my head toward the door. He looks to Finn and Shane, who’re standing with their wives and Dillan’s. Our silent communication tells them to stay put.
I escort Joey out to the hotel lobby, followed by Santiago and Dillan, then the Mancinellis, who now includes Marco, Luca’s next younger brother. This isn’t where we can have our conversation. I steer Joey down the hall to where I know there’s an empty ballroom. The Diazes will have rented all the spaces in the hotel, so no other event can take place here. No one wants an enemy sneaking into the reception, looking like they belong at another gathering. I try the door and find it unlocked.
All of us slip inside and spread out, so no one from opposite families is within arm’s reach of one another. Joey and Olivia take a step forward at the same time. They both brush off the arm Luca and I attempt to wrap around our respective woman. I sense Santiago wants to stand beside her, but that’d only antagonize Luca, Marco, and Salvatore. That’d amplify the protectiveness I feel now.
“If your mother isn’t dead, then why don’t we know her or you?”
“Because my mother left that life behind.”
Joey cocks an eyebrow at Olivia’s response. Her gaze darts to Luca before she smirks. In turn, Olivia shoots me a disgusted look. Joey takes another dig, and while I don’t disagree, I want to cringe.
“She ran away to hide in America and look who she wound up with as in-laws.”
“And you’re not hiding here?”
“No. We can’t hide any more than you can when you married a man who’s clearly senior Mafia. Have you met our father?”
“Unfortunately, yes. It was when he tried to kill me.”
Joey’s only reaction is not to react. Fucking hell. What kind of training did she go through as a child? I hope it didn’t fucking match half of mine.
“Did you deserve it?”
Fucking hell, Joey.
“Do you deserve the hit on you?”
Joey casts a speculative gaze at Luca. “What do you think? How much did you pay for whatever revenge you seek against my father?”
“We’re not responsible for whatever you’re talking about. We’re on good terms with Jesus.”
“Does your wife know that? Are you that good an actress? Did you know about me and decide to get revenge for whatever my father did to you?”
She doesn’t deny Jesus likely did something. He did. At least his men nearly did, which made the Mancinellis hold him responsible.
Jesus and Enrique can’t stand each other. I don’t know if Joey knows that. It makes me wonder if Pablo or Javier have anything to do with this. Was Enrique merely enjoying toying with the Mancinellis and me? Or was he crowing “dance, monkeys, dance” to himself?
“I knew nothing about you. Are you with Cormac, feeding him information to sabotage my family?”
“No. Until tonight, I didn’t think about your family because I didn’t know any of you existed.”
The women stare at one another, and the rest of us stare at them. Joey’s tone softens a smidge.
“Does my father know who you are now?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know his sister’s alive?”
“Yes.”
“My father carries a photo with him everywhere. He’s done things I’ll never know to get it back when someone’s taken it. It’s your mom and my dad when they were kids. He’s handing her a toy, and she’s handing him a ball. He thought it was the only thing left. Our grandfather did this, not your mom or my dad.”
Olivia’s gaze isn’t as piercing as she shifts her gaze to Santiago for a moment before returning it to Joey.
“I know. My mom thought he was dead, too. Our grandfather took him and trained him. By the time he came back from wherever, my mom was already here.”
“Do they talk?”
“I don’t know. I think once in a while.”
Joey nods. I think it bothers her that Olivia knows more about their family’s past than she does. That sparked her anger and defensiveness. It sparked Olivia’s resentment and distrust from what happened before Jesus learned who she was.
“No one I know in our family has your eyes. Did you get them from your dad?”
“Yes, and the blonde hair’s from his side, too.”
Olivia’s lips flatten as she realizes she just told Joey something she must already know. They stand in silence, and it’s Luca’s and my cue to wrap our arm around our women and pull them into our embrace. We move with a synchronicity that would normally make us snarl. But neither of us cares about the other more than we do the women we love.
Joey gazes up at me, and I can tell she wishes to say something for my ears only. I kiss her forehead, bringing my head closer to hers.
“Would your family allow me to get to know her better? Would they worry if Santi did, too?”
“Of course you can.”
We both see Olivia whispering to Luca, and my guess is it’s the same thing Joey asked because both women turn to each other.
“I’m sorry.”
They speak together, then smile. Joey tries again.
“I’m sorry for my harshness. I never imagined I’d meet my mirror image. I’m protective of my family, just like you are yours. But we’re also each other’s family, and three of us live in the same city.” She glances at Santiago. “I’d like to get to know you better.”
“I’d like that too.”
Both women turn their focus to Santiago, who’s remained quiet, only observing.
“Me too.”
Salvatore and Luca position themselves in front of Olivia, who tries to peer between their arms. Santiago casts them a disdainful glare as he speaks.
“I know your history, Luca. Don’t assume I’m like you because of what men do in Mexico or because of my father’s past. I don’t hurt women and children. I wouldn’t survive my sister if I did. I fear Jocelyn far more than anyone else. You’d do well to do the same.”
The women in syndicate families grow up resilient and protective. They have no choice; it’s in their genes. But women who marry into syndicates are no less fierce. Joey will be both a syndicate daughter and wife before the end of the month.