5. Nico
Nico
“No surprise the girl was on the verge of tears throughout dinner,” Dante says, joining me in my office once Barzetti and Gia are gone.
I scowl at the scotch in my hand. I’ve made plenty of people cry. What’s one more? She had backbone during our exchanges though. She held my gaze for thirty seconds straight without flinching or glancing away. She’s not the scared little mouse I expected based on Caterina’s description.
“Maybe she was frightened of you,” I suggest.
My brother smirks, knowing better. “I was my most charming self all evening.” It’s true he was, though, while I’m known as the level headed Morelli brother, Dante is the embodiment of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
“Silvio sent her to us for some purpose.” The marriage pacts we forged two years ago to end a civil war, including my abysmal union with Margareta, haven’t changed the fact that the Capo of Las Vegas wants me dead for killing his oldest son.
My rage was ungovernable that night when I saw the woman’s broken body at the brothel. Naked and leering, Sil, Jr. had asked if I’d wanted to join in his fun. My favorite blade had soon littered the expensive rug with his blood.
And what did it get me? My precious little Cat shackled to his younger brother, out of our territory and out from under my protection, paying for my wrath with her innocence. I vowed that night I wouldn’t allow emotion to rule my actions ever again. I have to be smarter than that.
Dante shrugs. “Your children need taking care of. Considering who we are, it needs to be a woman from our world. Or you could simply marry again. As our future Capo, it will be expected. You’d have your pick of girls from the best families.”
“I already tried marriage. Did I tell you Russo suggested I could marry Margareta’s sister, Livia as a possible way to ‘maintain our bond’ at her funeral? At her funeral. And the girl’s only sixteen for fuck’s sake."
"Sick fucker."
"Yes. I told him if he liked I could make it a double funeral. He hasn’t spoken to me again, not even to ask after his grandchildren… not that I’ll ever let them near him or that family.”
“Okay, fine. A nanny. Matilde’s no assassin, Nico.”
“She could spy on me. And the children are incapable of protecting themselves.”
“Then dispose of her.” I raise my eyebrows at his terminology, and Dante chuckles. “See? You have a soft spot when it comes to girls. Amadeo may follow in your footsteps, but Lucia will rule this household someday.”
“If I have a soft spot for girls, it’s for the girls in our family, nothing more.”
“Matilde's very pretty.”
She’s gorgeous, full of fire, clutching her small suitcase like a shield as she stood up to a man like me.
“She’s too pretty," I argue, "And she’s a child.”
“She’ll be of age soon, and her curves aren’t remotely childlike.”
“Dante, I have enough evil notions in my head without stooping to chasing teenage girls.”
“You didn’t chase teenage girls even when you were a teenager,” he snorts.
“Speaking of evil notions, tell me you’ve stopped stalking the De Luca girl.”
My brother’s lips twist downward. “She’s nothing but a curiosity to me.”
“Sure.”
“How long does Father have?” he asks, ignoring my sarcasm.
“A year at most. Probably less,” I reply. In addition to the emphysema, they found lung cancer.
“Don’t expect me to cry any tears over the bastard.”
Neither of us will. He prepared us well for life in the mafia, but he was hardly Father of the Year material. “Cat will shed tears for us both,” I sigh.
“When do we tell her?” Dante asks, remorse flickering in his dark eyes. He shares my hatred of anything that causes our little sister sadness.
“Father doesn’t want it known yet, and she’s suffering enough because of me.”
“How many times do I have to remind you that Father was planning to give her to Sil, Jr. before you killed him? If he hadn’t killed the whore that night-”
“Alessio hasn’t forgotten his brother,” I retort.
“Let’s kill him in New York then.”
“It’s not impossible, but we’d have to be certain Cat was safe, and Don Vicini and his sons might take exception to such a move. With every shift of power, there’s upheaval. I want New York on my side when I step into our father’s place.”
"Afraid of a fight?"
"No, but I don't want my children to be orphans before they can even walk. Do you?"
Annoyed, Dante stands to leave. “In that case, rather than hunting for rats in your nursery, I’d be more concerned with the snakes in our garden. Ritchie Barzetti is a fool, but that brother of his…”
“Antonio, yes.” I’ll be keeping an eye on him.
One of our captains, he’s always in our father’s ear and kissing his ass.
His son is every bit as devious, and his wife, Cosima, is no better.
She was good friends with Margareta, two peas in a pod.
“The only Barzetti to attend the wedding was Ritchie,” I mention to Dante.
"I never got the impression Antonio would mourn his big brother for long. "
“Colluding with the Bratva though? That would be fucking ballsy for Antonio.”
The youngest guard from my father’s household arrives soon after, ending our discussion. “Are you here to pick up our mother, Primo?” I ask.
He bobs his head, nervously. Dante and I have that effect on several of the soldiers, and while the boy’s father was tough as nails, Primo reminds me more of a lost sheep than someone who should be marked with the three-headed wolf. “I’m to fetch Signora Morelli and the girl from Sicily.”
“Very well. I’ll let them know.”
Dante leaves as I head upstairs. My mother has been indispensable, caring for the babies whenever I couldn’t since they were born, but that will change with my father’s diagnosis.
Climbing the steps, my body reminds me how long it’s been since I’ve had a solid night’s sleep.
I could ask Mother to take the children for the night, but it feels like another failure any time I’ve caved and done so.
I can’t rest not knowing first-hand they’re safe either.
Besides, I don’t want Matilde alone with them.
Outside the nursery, I pause when I hear someone sobbing like the world is ending. It’s not my children for once. Just another child, I think, clenching my fists in frustration.
“It’s alright, sweet girl.” Through the crack in the door, I see my mother consoling Matilde. She’s been more emotional since Cat’s marriage and the babies were born. Of course, she’s soothing the nanny who’s supposed to be responsible for my infants. Fucking ludicrous.
“I’m sorry. Nothing here is like I thought, and I miss Caterina and Sofia tonight,” the girl whimpers in Italian.
“Gia lives here,” Mother offers.
“Yes, I like her. I like you.” Mother makes more comforting noises. Matilde will soon have her wrapped around her little finger playing the lost girl.
The story I was given of a foreign exchange student, capable of childcare and in need of housing, sounded terribly convenient. Too convenient for my taste, especially when she came from Silvio and she’s too beautiful for words.
“Primo is here to drive you home,” I clip, stepping into the room.
Matilde staggers out of my mother’s embrace like she’s been caught stealing, but Mother smiles warmly. “We’ll get out of your hair then. Come, Matilde, let’s get you settled, and we’ll look into getting you registered for school in the morning.”
School. Not even finished with high school when my children need a mother. I should turn her away and hire some grandmotherly sort, a soldier’s widow perhaps.
But watching Matilde hurriedly wiping her eyes and knowing I’m at least partly to blame for that causes an unexpected heaviness to settle in my chest. What the fuck? The unwanted sensation doesn’t pass until they’re gone and I hear the quiet click of the front door.
I pull out my phone to set the alarm, but as I turn to leave the nursery, a mewling little cry comes from Lucia’s crib. I close my eyes, and Amadeo answers his sister’s call with an angry howl. “So much for sleeping tonight, eh?” I murmur.
Shedding my coat, vest and weapons, I roll up my sleeves and place my knife beside the rocking chair where I’ll spend the next several hours, attempting to soothe the colicky twins.