Chapter 25 Sandro #2
A roar of cheers erupts, glasses raised high, voices blending in one loud, defiant declaration of unity. A live band strikes up, and the hall transforms into a celebration. For the first time in months, there’s joy in this house again.
And I let myself enjoy it.
Finding Evi near the edge of the dance floor, I can’t resist. I approach her from the side and stop before her, holding out my hand. “Dance with me, wife.”
She laughs softly. “I thought you didn’t dance.”
“I don’t,” I admit. “But I make exceptions.”
She slides her hand into mine, and I pull her close as the music swells around us. She fits perfectly against me—warm, soft, alive.
“You look incredible tonight,” I murmur. “That dress… it’s something else.”
Her cheeks flush, and she glances down shyly. “Thank you. I made it myself.”
That stops me cold. “You what?”
She nods, smiling at my surprise. “I used to sew a lot. I’ve made most of the dresses I wear, in fact. It helps me think.”
I shake my head, smiling. I don’t know how she could have possibly found time with everything she’s been juggling to get the house in order. And based on the intricacy of the shape and precise stitching, I’m confident it must have taken hours to complete. “You really are full of surprises,” I rasp.
And for the first time, I realize that, while Evi’s been my wife for nearly three months now, I know little about her interests and hobbies—who she is or what she enjoys when she’s not tasked with helping my family get our act together. I need to make a better practice of getting to know my wife.
“I hope that’s a good thing,” Evi says with a sweet smile, drawing me from my reverie.
“It’s the best thing,” I say. And I mean it.
She laughs, soft and genuine, and for a few minutes, the world fades away. It’s just her and me and the sound of the band. The scent of her perfume mingles with the faint tang of champagne and cigar smoke.
This is what home feels like.
It’s strange, realizing how much she’s gotten under my skin. I never wanted a wife. I sure as hell didn’t want love. But Evi… she slipped through the cracks in my armor without even trying.
And now, I can’t imagine this house, my life, without her.
When the song ends, Raf waves me over from across the room. I press a kiss to Evi’s hand and tell her I’ll be right back.
Raf’s alone with the rest of our brothers—Leo, Gio, and Miko standing with him in a quiet corner near the fireplace. The sight makes something twist inside me. It’s been a long time since all of us were together in this house. It feels like a lifetime ago now.
“Hell of a night,” Leo says, raising his glass.
“You did it,” Gio adds, clapping Raf on the shoulder. “You deserve this more than anyone. I just hope you know what you’re getting into. For better or worse, the weight of our legacy is yours to carry now. I know Leo and I sure as hell didn’t want it.”
Raf exhales, a small smile curving his mouth. “Let’s hope I know what I’m doing.”
We talk for a while—about the ceremony, the repairs, the rebuilding. Then the conversation turns, inevitably, to politics.
“The Irish still won’t commit,” Raf says quietly. “I’ve spoken with three of their captains this week. They say they’ll talk when the Murrays are ready to.”
“Meaning never,” Gio mutters.
“Maybe not,” Miko says. “Rumors keep stirring that the Murrays and the Tanakas aren’t getting along. With a power struggle brewing between them, we could still swing it in our favor.”
Leo frowns. “Rumors aren’t enough to count on. You know that, Miko. The Murrays are still top of the Irish chain. And they’ve already betrayed us once.”
I lean back against the wall, crossing my arms. “If their alliance cracks, though… if the Murrays start losing ground, the rest will follow.”
Raf nods. “That’s what I’m hoping for. But for now, all we can do is keep our finger on the pulse.”
It’s the same frustration we’ve been hitting for weeks.
Raf’s been chasing diplomacy. I’ve been working the pits, fighting, bleeding, building respect and reminding the Irish that we’re still here—still fighting.
But the Irish are stubborn bastards. No one wants to be first to jump ship from a sinking alliance.
“We keep watching,” Raf says finally. “And waiting. Sooner or later, that alliance will falter. And when it does—we’ll be ready.”
I nod. I believe him.
Still, part of me itches for something more concrete than rumors and handshakes. We’ve been patient long enough.
When I leave my brothers and return to the party, it’s in full swing—music, laughter, the scent of roasted meat and wine.
Evi’s no longer where I left her, and for a moment, I scan the room, my heart quickening, despite the fact that she shouldn’t be in danger.
We’ve posted more than enough men to guard the house’s perimeter to ensure the ceremony went off without a hitch.
But still, my sense of unease doesn’t settle until my eyes land on her once more.
I spot her near the back of the room, standing with her parents.
At first, I think they’re just talking. Then I see their faces.
Her father’s mouth is tight, his words appearing to come out in clipped bursts.
Her mother’s eyes dart nervously around the room.
And Evi—she’s trying to stay composed, but I know her too well by now.
Her fingers tremble where they twine in front of her.
Her eyes shine, the way they do when she’s fighting back tears.
And her slender shoulders have a distinct curve as she curls in on herself.
Something cold settles in my gut.
I move toward them, cutting through the crowd, and people step aside without hesitation as soon as their eyes find my face.
“Everything alright here?” I demand as I stop beside my wife, physically demonstrating our solidarity as a unit—even if it’s her parents we’re up against.
Evi startles a little, her head snapping toward me. Her parents fall silent instantly.
Her father clears his throat, offering a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We were just saying our goodbyes, Sandro. It’s been a long night.”
I glance between them, not buying it for a second. “That so?”
Her mother nods quickly. “You’ve both done a wonderful job. Truly. The house looks almost as beautiful as it did before the destruction.”
I don’t miss the subtle slight in that word almost, like Evi’s best efforts have somehow fallen short.
It makes my hands twitch with the desire to throw her parents out of the party on their asses.
But I doubt that’s what Evi would want. After the trouble she must have gone to in order to find her parents such a meaningful loyalty gift for Raf, I’m confident their image matters to her—for whatever reason.
“We should be going before it gets too late,” Maria says, her tone brittle.
Evi doesn’t look at me. She just murmurs, “Good night, Mama. Papa.”
They lean in to kiss her cheeks, and for a second, her father squeezes her hand, murmuring something I can’t quite catch. Whatever it is, it makes her flinch.
As they walk away, I watch them disappear into the crowd, then turn back to Evi. She’s pale. Her hands twist together, in that signature sign of nerves as her breath comes unevenly.
“Evi.” I lower my voice, stepping closer. “What was that about?”
She shakes her head quickly. “Nothing. Just… family things.”
“It didn’t look like nothing.”
Her eyes dart toward the exit, then back to me, wide and shimmering. “Please, Sandro. Not here.”
That cold, uneasy feeling in my chest deepens.
I reach for her hand. “Did they say something to you?”
She tries to smile, but it wavers. “I’ll tell you later. I promise.”
“Evi—”
But she’s already pulling away, mumbling something about needing a minute. She disappears through the open wall leading out to the terrace, leaving me standing in the middle of the golden-lit ballroom, surrounded by laughter and music that suddenly feel distant and hollow.