Chapter Two
Maverick
“But it’s your birthday.”
Sighing, I shake my head, but I already know I’m going to cave.
“Yeah, Mav. Let us celebrate you,” Sunny says. “You need cake and presents.”
“I don’t need celebrating,” I tell Riley and Sunny. “And I don’t need gifts. Knowing my family and friends are safe and happy is the greatest gift you can give this old man.”
“Forty-five is not old,” Riley says, rolling her eyes. “I also don’t hear you saying no to cake.”
“Who in their right mind would say no to cake?” I tease.
“Well, go tell your henchmen that you’ll be back in a few hours,” Riley says, already ushering me back inside my own home like she has every right to boss me around. “We’ll wait here.”
“You can ride on the back of my bike on the way back,” Sunny says sweetly. “I promise not to go too fast.”
I stop walking and slowly turn my head to look at her, doing my best to keep the horror off my face.
“I’m not riding on the back of your bike, Sunny,” I say carefully. “Also, I know for a fact Bones has no idea you left the compound on that death trap.”
Her mouth drops open.
“How do you know?” Sunny asks, slamming her hands on her hips. “Maybe I’m a total badbutt, and he knows that.”
I nearly smile.
“Honey, if there’s one thing I know about that man, it’s that he would never agree to anything that could even remotely cause you harm.”
“Well, he’s not really the boss of me now, is he?” she asks, jutting her chin into the air. “I’ll have you know my man trusts me completely.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” I say.
Bones may trust her, but he is going to lose what is left of his mind when he finds out his woman rode that bike anywhere without him knowing.
“Why don’t you two come inside while I get ready?”
Turning, I walk inside and gesture for Luca.
“Yes, Don?” he asks.
“Would you please get my guests something to drink and cancel any appointments for the evening?”
His expression doesn’t change, but I see the faint flicker of surprise in his eyes.
I rarely cancel anything.
“Sir, you have a conference call with Texas in an hour,” Luca says. “It’s about the new turf wars in the area.”
I glance back at Riley and Sunny, who are both watching me like they fully expect me to choose work.
For a moment, habit pulls at me.
The empire. The responsibility. The endless fires waiting for my hand to put them out.
Then Sunny smiles softly, and Riley arches a brow like she’s daring me to disappoint her.
I sigh.
“Texas can wait one more day,” I say. “Tonight, apparently, I’m having cake.”
***
“Why are we back here?” I ask the girls as we pull up to the gate surrounding my estate.
With one small threat of calling Bones and telling him about Sunny’s little badbutt move, they both agreed we would take my car and driver to wherever it was they were dragging me.
Which I assumed was the compound.
The gates open slowly, and I glance from Riley to Sunny.
Neither of them looks even remotely guilty.
That’s how I know I’m in trouble.
“I was promised cake,” I remind them.
Sunny grins like the menace she is. “And you’ll get cake.”
“That does not answer my question.”
“No,” Riley says, patting my arm. “But it does make you sound grumpy, and that’s adorable.”
I narrow my eyes at her.
“I am the Don of the Moretti family.”
“And yet,” Sunny says sweetly, “still adorable.”
I look toward the front of the estate as the car rolls up the long drive.
Lights glow from nearly every window.
Too many lights.
Too much suspicious silence from the two women sitting across from me.
“Where are they parked?” I ask.
“Out back,” Riley says, smiling wide.
Sunny frowns.
“It’s a surprise party,” she says. “You’re supposed to be surprised.”
“Oh, I’m surprised,” I say gently. “I’m just not understanding why we went on a nearly two-hour-long drive. You could have simply asked me to remain in my rooms, and I would have done so.”
“But then you would have known the whole time,” Riley points out. “Besides, you would have missed our fantastic in-car concert had we not taken the long way.”
I fight the instinct to wince.
The concert.
Yes.
How could I forget?
Nearly two hours of Riley and Sunny singing at the top of their lungs while my driver stared straight ahead like a man questioning every decision that had led him to this exact moment in life.
“Oh, what a shame missing that long performance would have been,” I say, doing my best to keep the cringe from my face.
As cute as they are, these two most definitely cannot hold a tune.
“I know, right?” Sunny says, once again smiling like I’ve paid them the highest compliment.
“Let’s go, big guy,” Riley says, opening the door before I can offer another perfectly reasonable complaint. “Your chefs have prepared a feast, and we have presents to give.”
I step out of the car, buttoning my suit jacket as I glance toward the glowing estate.
Music hums faintly from inside, and I can hear laughter from out here.
So despite myself, despite the fact that I was kidnapped by two tone-deaf women with dangerous smiles and absolutely no respect for a man’s schedule, warmth spreads through my chest.
I was not expecting this.
Maybe that’s the surprise.
“Brother,” Spike greets as he opens the door. “How was the trip?”
“Your lovely wife and Sunny serenaded me with vocal precision,” I say.
“Damn,” he flinches. “Sorry, man.”
“No harm done,” I say with a soft laugh. “Well… not much harm.”
“Hey,” Riley says, pushing past us both, “I sing like a freaking angel.”
“The angel of death, maybe,” Skip says as he rounds the corner holding a fork.
I pause, taking in the sight of him.
Because, of course Skip is wandering through my home with a fork.
“Maverick,” he says, completely serious, “where’s all the good china? I want to see the difference between fake and real silver.”
“The dining room, I suppose,” I say slowly. “Why do you have a fork?”
“Brought this from home,” he sighs, lifting it like that should explain everything. “Your chefs won’t let me in the dining room until it’s time to eat.”
“They’re wise men.”
“They’re tyrants,” he corrects. “I told them I was conducting important scientific research.”
“With a fork?” I ask.
Skip looks offended. “How else am I supposed to test the silver? By licking it?”
He pauses.
“Wait. Does that work?”
Not giving me a chance to respond, Skip lifts the fork to his mouth and drags his tongue across the tines in one long, horrifying lick.
Then he smacks his lips, nods like he’s determined something vital, and turns to walk away.
I stare after him.
“There’s something seriously wrong with that man,” Spike sighs.
“There are specialists for people like him,” I say.
“None brave enough,” Spike mutters, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, brother. We have a party to go to.”
Walking into the living area, I’m greeted by all the children from my estate, as well as the two who came over from the compound.
The sight of them stops me for half a second.
Small faces. Bright eyes. Excited whispers.
It’s chaos in its sweetest form.
“Guess what, Don?” Lucia says, smiling up at me.
Lucia lost her papa a few years back, and it took a while for her to get her light back. At thirteen, we’ve started giving her more responsibility with the younger children, and it seems to have helped. She stands a little taller now. Smiles a little easier.
I pray that continues.
“Aliens have invaded the estate,” I guess with a smile.
“Close,” she laughs. “Chef Marcello made a huge tiramisù cake for your birthday.”
“Mmm,” I hum. “My favorite.”
“I’ve also made traditional vanilla and chocolate cakes for those whose tastes aren’t quite as refined,” Marcello says as he walks into the room decked head to toe in chef whites. “I’ve come to seek help.”
“What can I do for you?” I ask.
My staff may work for me, and I pay them well for it, but I treat them as family. Because that’s what they are. Every person under this roof matters to me.
“Actually,” Marcello says, clasping his hands behind his back, “I was wondering if I could have a few taste testers join me in the kitchen. I need help deciding which frosting would be best for the cakes, and Chef Rosa is no help.”
Suddenly, the room explodes with shouts as every child raises their hand.
Some raise both.
They all jump up and down with the hope of being chosen.
Laughing, Marcello scans the room with great seriousness before pointing to Bree.
“I think one of our guests would be a wonderful choice,” Marcello says, gently patting Bree’s head. “Also, Lucia and Sabrina.”
“Yes,” Bree cheers softly.
It’s barely louder than a whisper, but I hear it.
I nod at Marcello, grateful he included her.
Apart from Asher, who is only around two, Bree is the only child living at the compound. Seeing her here, surrounded by my family, playing with the children beneath my roof, brings a warmth to my chest I am not prepared for.
This is why I built this place.
Not for power.
Not for status.
For this.
For children who can laugh without fear. For families who can breathe.
For one evening where the biggest danger in my home is Marcello giving too much frosting to a group of sugar-hungry children.
“Is Micah here?” I ask, looking around for the young man with locked-in syndrome.
“He’s actually in your security room with your men,” Spike says with a laugh. “Apparently, he wanted to see how different security is here compared to the compound.”
“Vastly, I’m afraid,” I say with a sigh. “After Los Fantasmas attacked, I increased our security protocols. It’s hard to even receive a letter without three people checking it first.”
Spike studies me for a moment, the amusement fading from his face.
“But your family is safe,” he says softly.
I glance around the room.
At the children laughing.
At Marcello leading his chosen taste testers toward the kitchen.
At the Shadow’s women relaxing and talking as if this house has always belonged to them too.
At Spike standing beside me like a brother instead of an ally.
My throat tightens, but I swallow it down.
“But my family is safe,” I agree with a nod.
And for a man like me, that has to be enough.
“I don’t wanna hear it, Sunny,” I hear Bones say. “It’s not safe. One wrong move, and you and that damn bike will be smashed under a semi-truck. You’re taking it back.”
“I most certainly am not,” Sunny says, standing as tall as she can while glaring up at her man. “I am a grown woman, and I can make decisions on my own. The bike stays.”
“Don’t think I won’t tie your ass to our bed,” Bones growls.
“Dang it, Jack, why do you have to make things so freaking difficult?”
Bones doesn’t say anything for several moments. He just stares down at her, the hard lines of his face easing as he cups her cheeks in both hands.
“Baby,” he says, his voice lower now, rougher. “The thought of you getting hurt tears me up inside. If something happened to you, I wouldn’t survive it.”
Sunny’s shoulders soften.
“But I’m being safe,” she says with a sigh. “I’m not being reckless on the thing.”
“It’s not you I don’t trust, Sunny,” he says. “People are idiots behind the wheels of their vehicles. One wrong move. One quick look away. They could miss you until it’s too late and hit you. It terrifies the hell out of me.”
“Ugh,” she groans, but there’s no real heat left in it. “Fine. I’ll send it back. But I want a four-wheeler to drive around the desert with.”
“Thank you, baby,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss her gently.
I look away to give them their moment, but my chest tightens.
There’s something almost painful about witnessing that kind of love. Not because I resent it. I don’t. I would never begrudge them the kind of devotion that makes a man tremble at the thought of losing his woman.
But my arms ache with the memory of having someone to hold.
Someone to cherish.
Someone who looked at me as if the worst parts of my life did not make me impossible to love.
Adriana’s face slips into my mind, soft and beautiful, and for a moment, I let myself see her.
Then, gently, I move her aside.
I loved my wife with everything I was. That will never change. But she’s gone, and I need to move forward. I don’t want to forget her. I never could. But I don’t want her memory to be the chain that keeps me trapped in this limbo.
She would not want that for me.
“Sir, you cannot lick the dinnerware!” someone shouts from the dining room.
I blink, dragged violently from grief straight into whatever madness Skip has created now.
“It tastes the exact same,” I hear Skip say. “Here, you try. See if you can taste a difference.”
“Sir, I must insist you leave the room.”
“Here, I licked on this side, so you can try the other,” Skip offers. “Wait, taste my fork first.”
“Eli, your man is a nut,” Abby says.
“Yeah,” Eli says, his face turning beet red. “I know he is.”
Despite his words, Eli smiles as he listens to my kitchen staff argue with Skip.
I shake my head, unable to stop the laugh that escapes.
Yes, my arms still crave someone to hold at night. My bed is still too large, and the silence of my rooms still cuts too deep when the day is done.
But for now, I’m here.
Surrounded by noise. By laughter. By chaos.
By people who have somehow become mine.
And for the time being, I’m perfectly content living life with this strange, loud, ridiculous family I call my own.