Chapter 44
Adriano Pov~
Life moved forward quickly after we returned home from Italy a few weeks ago. The kids went back to school, buried under makeup assignments and missed exams, a fate they claimed was somehow worse than facing down armed men.
They complained loudly and dramatically, but they went anyway, they always do.
Gianna was right there beside them through it all. Helping with homework at the kitchen table, calming frustrations, reminding them that surviving a mafia war didn't excuse them from responsibility. She made it look effortless, the way she always did.
My amore welcomed Clara with open arms, not cautiously or conditionally, but fully, with a kindness and a semblance of familial warmth I knew Clara hadn't felt in over twenty years. Gianna has a heart forged in gold.
Where the rest of us carried suspicion, resentment, and old wounds that never quite healed... she carried grace. She mediated the tension none of us wanted to admit we were still holding. She didn't excuse the past, but she refused to let it poison the present.
That’s why she is My Queen.
Not because I gave her the title, but because she earns it every single day. She sees the darkness in us, the rage, the violence, the Basillio curse that runs hot and merciless through our veins.
And instead of fearing it, she steadies it, warms it, and shapes it into something disciplined instead of destructive. Even that beast inside us seems to bow its head when she walks into a room, and God help any man who mistakes her kindness for weakness.
"My brother... what are we going to do about the Valentinos?" Matteo asked, glancing up from his laptop across from me.
We were knee-deep in reports from the Italian families. Contracts, disputes, territory negotiations, shipments delayed during our absence. Being gone for as long as we were had created gaps.
And in our world, gaps invited problems. There was only so much my men could handle without me. Now I was catching up on weeks of unfinished business, and the Valentino file was sitting right at the top of the pile.
I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling through my nose. "What do they want now?"
Matteo lifted a brow at me, unimpressed. "You know the Valentinos are one of our most loyal families. Maybe some grace should be extended before you bite their heads off."
He didn't have to say the rest. I've been on edge. "I know," I muttered, straightening in my chair and forcing my tone back into something resembling patience. "What did they say?"
Matteo chuckled and scrolled through the report for a moment before leaning back slightly. "They're being pressured."
My jaw tightened. "By who?"
"Small faction out of Jersey. Some idiots who think Aldo's fall means there's room for instability. They've been circling Valentino territory, testing boundaries, pushing shipments."
Of course they were. When a head was cut off, smaller snakes thought they could slither into the vacuum. "And what do the Valentinos want?" I asked.
"They're requesting reinforcement. Not because they can't handle it...they can. But they want your presence." I raised a brow. "Publicly," Matteo continued. "They want it known that you're still standing. That the hierarchy hasn't shifted."
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the report. It wasn't just about protection, it was a statement. The Valentino family wasn't asking me to fight their battle for them; they were asking me to remind everyone else who stood behind them and, more importantly, who stood at the top.
I sit back slowly. This isn't fear. This is politics. Smart politics. "They want me to make an appearance," I say.
Matteo nods. "A dinner. Public. Other families will attend, it will a great reminder." A reminder that Aldo's disgrace didn't fracture our leadership, that the Capo di Capi still stands, that loyalty is rewarded, and that weakness... is not.
I stand from my chair and walk toward the window, looking out over our New York estate. The grounds are quiet and peaceful. Children's laughter drifts faintly from the backyard.
This is what I built. This is what I protect.
“They were loyal during Italy,” Matteo adds quietly.
“They didn’t waver.” I nod once. “Then they’ll have me,” I say calmly.
“Set the dinner. Invite whoever thinks they need reassurance.” Matteo studies me carefully.
“And the Jersey faction?” A slow smile forms on my face. “Let them come.”
Matteo's grin widens. "I was hoping you'd say that."
I turn back toward him, my voice steady. "No war. Not unless they force it. But if they mistake silence for weakness..." I pause, adjusting the cuff of my sleeve. "We will remind them why that's dangerous."
Matteo closes his laptop with a satisfied click. "It never really ends, does it?" he asks. I glance once more toward the backyard, toward my children.
"No," I answer quietly. "It doesn't."
Gianna Pov~
I hoist Callie onto my hip while gripping Lia's tiny hand in mine as we make our way upstairs toward Adriano's office.
Just minutes ago, they were outside, running wild through the yard like little queens of the estate, until Callie tripped on the stone path and went down hard.
Scraped elbows. Scraped knees. Blood everywhere. Screaming like someone had declared war on her personally.
Which, of course, sent Lia into hysterics because her cousin was hurt.
It was... a whole production.
I cleaned Callie up, washing the dirt from her knees while she sniffled dramatically and declared she was "dying." Bandages were applied with extreme ceremony. Lia stood beside us crying in solidarity because, apparently, cousin loyalty includes emotional-support tears.
Now?
Now they want their fathers.
Because in this house, strong Mafia men may command territories and strike fear into grown men... but they still get summoned for scraped knees.
Callie sniffles against my shoulder as we near Adriano's office door. "Mama... it still hurts."
"I know, amore," I murmur softly, kissing her temple. "But you were very brave."
Lia squeezes my fingers tighter. "Will Uncle Adri make it better?"
I smile to myself and nod at the little girl. Oh, he will. In some dramatic way or another. I knock once before pushing the door open without waiting. "Adriano," I call gently. "Your princesses require immediate attention."
Adriano Pov~
Matteo was mid-sentence about shipment routes when my office door opened without warning.
"Adriano," my wife's voice called, calm but threaded with amusement. "Your princesses require immediate attention."
I didn’t hesitate. I looked up and saw Callie on Gianna’s hip, her lip trembling and cheeks flushed from crying, while Lia stood beside her clutching Gianna’s hand, her eyes glassy and wide. I was out of my chair immediately.
"What happened?" My voice dropped, steady and controlled.
Callie reached for me. "Daddy," she sniffled dramatically, "the ground attacked me."
Behind them, Matteo choked on a laugh. I shot him a look before taking Callie into my arms. “The ground,” I repeated slowly, examining the neat bandages on her elbows and knees like I was assessing war wounds.
"It pushed her," Lia said seriously. I crouched slightly so I was eye-level with Lia. "Did it now?" She nodded fiercely, and then her lower lip began to wobble. And I realized this wasn't just about Callie.
“Papà…” Lia whispered suddenly, turning toward Matteo, and that did it.
Matteo’s chair scraped back instantly as he stood and walked over, all teasing gone from his expression.
“What’s wrong, mia stella?” he asked gently, kneeling in front of her.
“She was bleeding,” Lia said, her voice shaking, and Matteo’s face softened completely.
He gathered her into his arms without hesitation, lifting her up and settling her against his chest. "Ah," he murmured, rocking her slightly. "That's why you're upset. Not because of the evil sidewalk."
Lia shook her head against his shoulder. Matteo kissed her hair. "Listen to me," he said softly. "You stayed with her and you held her hand. That's very brave, Lia." Her small fingers curled tighter into his shirt.
"I was scared."
"That's okay," Matteo said, brushing a tear from her cheek.
Across from him, I watched the moment unfold. Callie had stopped crying entirely, now watching Lia and Matteo with curiosity.
Matteo, ever the performer, suddenly narrowed his eyes at the window like I had moments before. "So," he said gravely, "this ground. Where is it?"
"In the yard," Lia said, pointing. Matteo stood, still holding her, and said seriously, "Adriano, we may need to shut down the entire backyard." I nodded solemnly. "I was just considering blowing it up." Gianna covered her mouth to hide her smile, and Callie gasped, "Blow it up?"
Matteo leaned toward her conspiratorially. "Only if necessary." Lia let out a tiny giggle against his chest. There it was, the laugh we were looking for.
Matteo kissed her forehead and asked softly if she wanted to go inspect the crime scene with him.
She nodded immediately, and he said, “Good, because I don’t trust your uncle’s investigation skills.
” I deadpanned, “Excuse me?” and Matteo replied smoothly that I was emotionally compromised, which made Gianna laugh outright now.
Callie tightened her grip around my neck. "Daddy, carry me too." "I always carry you," I answered. Matteo adjusted Lia higher in his arms. Two grown Mafia leaders, each holding a tiny girl like she was made of glass. Fucking whipped we were.
AJ Pov~
I don't know when it happened, the shift. One minute, I was just the oldest son, the loud one, the temperamental one, the one who threw punches first and asked questions later. Now? People looked at me differently, and I noticed it tonight.
Dad was in his office with Uncle Matteo, talking business. Serious voices. Low tones. The door was half-closed, but not completely.