“Keep him away from me,” I told Dario.
“Will do.” Dario nodded to where our guests had arrived.
What a clusterfuck. If it wasn’t for all the time I spent making him fit to lead the Galluzo, I would shoot Carmine on the spot. Working with him these past months, I’d learned to be wary of him. The man thrived on mischief. Even Ange reported a few incidents that would have ended badly for us because of Carmine’s commentary. I kept him away from Natalya because my wife was fond of him. Whereas before I welcomed the ammunition Carmine gave me to use against my wife, I’d become more protective of Natalya.
It was time to send him back to Italy.
The dinner was tedious. Whatever spark Natalya gained from six straight hours of sleep had vanished. In her place was an automaton. She ate, and she responded in monotone monosyllabic words. It wasn’t exactly how I imagined this gathering would unfold. Among our guests were Chicago politicians I’d invited to show I was a family man and wasn’t simply a thug. To show that my father-in-law was a regular guy who’d become a grandfather and not the monster the Italian press had painted him to be. Vincenzo was an excellent diplomat, but I had seen how ruthless he could be, and the monster description wasn’t far off. I continued to be baffled by how someone as kind and sweet as Natalya came from such parents. Maybe that was why God hadn’t given Vincenzo sons to corrupt, and losing his inner circle had certainly diminished his legend and power.
When the men retired to the study for scotch and cigars, all I could do was brood about my wife and son and give short answers. I was glad Dario had my back. If it wasn’t for the license approvals I needed, I had nothing in common with the alderman who had a sleazy private life I’d rather ignore. But I needed him firmly in my pocket before I found a more permanent solution to the Russians.
When all was said and done and our guests were ready to leave, Natalya had disappeared, giving excuses she had a newborn to attend to.
“My wife has contacts in an excellent nanny agency,” the alderman said at the door. “Right, sweetheart?”
“I already gave the number to Natalya,” she said. “It’s usually difficult in the first months.”
“I’ll keep in touch, Moretti,” he said.
Carmine left with the alderman and they chatted on their way to their parked vehicles.
My father-in-law came up beside me. “I appreciate what you’ve done with Carmine. He seems more confident instead of hanging in the background. He’s a smart kid.”
“He’s smart all right,” I muttered. “I’m going to check on Natalya. Dario? You good?”
“I’m going home,” my consigliere said. He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Successful dinner.”
I left Vincenzo with Dario. I should have felt exhilarated by the result of the dinner. After months of trying to get the alderman on our side, we had him where we wanted him on the committee, and we could reverse months of losing money.
But what did I lose in the process?
I strode past the kitchen. My mother-in-law was supervising Martha and Nessa. When she saw me, she came up to me with a harried expression. “I am sorry about how my daughter behaved at dinner. She should hire someone other than a mute.”
“Stop right there,” I cut her off. “My wife is doing an excellent job with Elias and that’s all that matters, capisce? You damn well don’t have the right to criticize my staff. They’ve been the best support for Natalya when I was too stupid not to be around.”
“You can’t be around all the time, you’re the boss of—”
“Don’t make excuses for me.” I looked past her to see Martha and Nessa staring at me in surprise. “Do you need my mother-in-law for anything?”
Nessa was already shaking her head vigorously.
Martha was more diplomatic. “We can handle this from here, Mrs. Conte. Please take your rest.”
I stared at Elena. I wasn’t going to let her reprimand my people when I wasn’t around.
She pulled back her shoulders, lifted her chin, and clacked her heels out of the kitchen.
“Thank you,” Martha said. “I can tolerate Mrs. Conte, but I don’t want Natalya to take the brunt of her displeasure.”
Fuck, I didn’t think of that. “I’ll go to her now.”
But when I arrived at the nursery, Natalya wasn’t there. Hope rose in my chest and I strode straight into our bedroom, only to deflate when I found it empty.
I texted Tony and Rocco. “Where’s my wife?”
Rocco responded. “Attic.”
She hadn’t been up there since June. I hurried to the opposite wing of the mansion, frustrated that she might have reverted to her aversion of our bedroom. Natalya better not make this an excuse to keep my son from me. The expression on her face in the study struck a deep rooted fear in my heart. That there was no hope of coming back from this. That I’d finally lost her. Since missing our son’s birth I’d never again saw the look in her eyes the way I saw it in Paris. My chest grew tight. It was as if she’d stopped loving me.
Rocco met me at the bottom of the stairs leading to the attic. Amusement twitched the corners of his mouth.
“Something funny?” I growled.
“No, boss.”
I double-timed it up the steps. I was about to pound on the door when I remembered about Elias. I tried the knob. To my relief, it was unlocked.
Natalya was on her laptop. She gave a start and slammed the lid closed.
Elias was in a portable bassinet beside the coffee table.
“Why are you up here?” she whispered.
“I could ask the same of you,” I said. “What were you reading?”
“Baby stuff.”
It wasn’t, but I let it slide because our son woke up.
“I need to feed him,” Natalya said, unbuttoning her pajama top. And when one of her breasts was exposed, I instantly became hard. We hadn’t had sex in a month. I wasn’t sure if she was receptive anyway. After what I read about postpartum depression, I tried very hard to let her have her way. Case in point—her sleeping in the nursery. I even made an excuse that it bothered my sleep so the onus wouldn’t be on her, but on her selfish, manipulative husband.
When she picked up Elias and he latched on to a nipple, an altogether different emotion swamped me.
Intense protectiveness of my wife and child.
These past few weeks, I felt like a stranger around them. It was so much of me on the outside looking in. But in the attic, where the cozy environment was so different from the rest of the house, I felt closer.
I had the overwhelming desire for family. For just the three of us.
“You’re still here?” Natalya asked in a tone that was not welcoming at all, but I was overcome with such a possessiveness for them, it didn’t incite me to leave her.
“I take pleasure in watching you feed him.” My voice came out gruff. The strange emotion I was feeling had worked its way up my throat. “You’re beautiful, tesoro.”
She gave me a strange look before she dropped her gaze to our son.
Elias was staring at his mother, and I had the urge to hug them.
For the first time in a long time, I gave in to the urge.
The self-control I let rule my entire life crumbled.
Up here, I wasn’t the boss of the Chicago crime family.
Up here, I was merely a mortal man falling in love with his family.
My real family.
The fear of being weak rattled inside me, but I ignored it to allow me this elation I’d forsaken before.
I sat beside her. She stiffened, even shifted away from me.
“Please don’t,” I pleaded. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against my chest. Something in my voice made her relent and relax her body against mine, but she wouldn’t look at me.
I would take that for now. This opportunity to have my family in my arms and look over her shoulder while she fed our son.
I never tried to apologize again for not being there when she gave birth. Like Dario, I couldn’t say if I wouldn’t have done the same thing, so the apology would have been empty.
“You still have to explain what possessed you to make such a deal with my father,” she whispered.
“Arrogance. Ambition.”
“Is that why you set expectations? You said you will never love me. Is it because you knew we would be separated when Elias turns eight? Because surely you also know that I’m not willing to let go of my son.”
“The expectations have nothing to do with that. More of what I knew I could give,” I said. Nothing had changed. I still feared weakness, but I also wanted my family. “I care very deeply, Natalya. You and Elias are very important to me. All I ask is you allow me to show you what could be if you just let me care for you the way I want to.”
Elias finished feeding. Natalya pulled away from me, and I was hesitant to release her.
“Let me go.”
“Only if you promise we’ll talk after this.”
“We will, otherwise I’m not sure I won’t stab you in your sleep.”
Shocked by the viciousness in her voice, my arms slackened and she slipped away. The relaxed vibe in the room vanished. She stood and burped Elias, and when she set him in the bassinet, he promptly fell asleep.
“He’s such a good boy,” I commented.
She skewered me with a look. “He is, and you would have known if you’d looked in on him more.”
“You were upset with me. I didn’t want to stress you out more with my presence.”
“You mean you took the easy way out. I’m more upset with you now.” She walked to the far end of the room and stared out the window, reminding me of the night of the storm when I came up to see her. Tonight was a full moon, and it surrounded her with a glow that made me think of an avenging angel. And she was about to unleash her heavenly punishment on me.
I should go to church more often.
Maybe confess my sins to the priest for being a terrible husband. After all, I set out to manipulate my wife into loving me. I hadn’t fulfilled my vow to love and cherish her. Those vows I said with scorn. I wondered if I would ever say them with all my heart.
I walked up behind her to see the moon and the stars cast my estate in such beauty. Beauty I worked so hard to keep, but having Natalya and Elias in this room, I felt a peacefulness I hadn’t experienced before. I didn’t thrive in peace. I thrived in chaos.
“I deserve your anger.”
“You continue to disappoint me, Luca,” she said. “Every time I think I’ve seen the worst of you and think I could survive what little you give to our marriage, fate throws something else our way.”
Her words hit me hard, but instead of feeling contrite, I felt offended. I wasn’t the worst husband. I didn’t beat her. I made sure she had the best care, the best staff to help her around the house. She could spend whatever the fuck she wanted. And I’d fucked her when she wanted, although it pleased me too that she was very sexual. I should get her pregnant more often. Maybe more children would take her focus off my lack of time because apparently, my wife, despite her upbringing, didn’t understand what it meant to be the wife of a don. “Survive? I beg your pardon, tesoro, but whose cock did you ride when you’d been horny?”
Her head whipped toward me, eyes narrowing. “You throw that back at me now? You know that’s the hormones speaking.”
I smirked. “You continue to lie to yourself. It’s because you love me and I’m the only one who could draw those sexy sounds from the back of your throat.”
“We’re back to sex. Marriage is more than sex. And if that’s your reasoning, then you should be worried because having sex with you is the last thing my body wants right now.”
Fuck. I believed her because Rachel did warn me this was a possibility that after women pushed out a baby the size of a bowling ball, the last thing they wanted was to have sex again. That wouldn’t do. Sex was the one place we connected. I fought to keep my face neutral.
“I show you affection.” I threw my arm at the big-screen TV and the rows of romance books. “You have these impossible standards you set for me. I told you before I’m more villain than hero. You are my wife.”
“Am I supposed to be some Cruella de Vil character to match you?” Her eyes flashed in challenge.
“Am I cruel to you?”
“Oh my God, never mind,” she muttered something about Dalmatians.
Dammit. I intended to meet her halfway and make peace with her, not make our situation more difficult. If only she would agree to hire a nanny.
“Look,” I said quietly. “I’d like to help with Elias. I don’t need to leave for Chicago as often.”
She looked back at the baby. “You don’t seem comfortable holding him.”
“It’s because of the judgment in your eyes each time I do!” I whispered harshly.
Natalya stared at me incredulously. “Because every time you hold him, it’s like you’re holding an alien. Have you ever even held a baby before?”
“Of course, I have. I’m godfather to so many.” It didn’t take someone to head-shrink me to know the reason.
She must have read my mind because Natalya’s face turned mocking. “You couldn’t look at Elias because of the guilt weighing you down that you decided to give away our firstborn before you even married me.”
I wasn’t expecting Natalya. I was expecting a malleable mafia wife who would be content to stay at home and bear my children. I wasn’t expecting a wife who demanded more from me. Natalya demanded more than all of Emilio’s wives combined. My father never let his wives speak to him this way. My brother Junior was different, maybe because he wanted a more loving marriage than our father. But it didn’t end well for him. When his wife had a nervous breakdown, it affected his concentration. He became careless. A carelessness I blamed when he and his wife were killed in a sabotaged car. Our enemies wouldn’t have had the chance to tamper with the brakes if Junior had been more vigilant, less distracted, less caught up in his wife’s mental problems.
I intended to learn from both of their mistakes.
“We’re keeping Elias.” I inched closer to her. “I made sure of that. My arrogance caused me to miss my son’s birth and guilt had prevented me from being the father he needs.” I clasped her elbows to pull her closer. “As his father, I’ll make many mistakes, Natalya.”
“Are you apologizing before you even try?” she asked. “Your track record with me hasn’t been good. You can’t blame me for wanting to protect our son from your brand of manipulation.”
“As my heir, I intend to teach him everything, but I won’t be cruel. Just give me a chance.”
Doubt clouded her eyes, and I had no one to blame but myself.
“I’ll do better.” I kissed the top of her head. “Please.” I leaned back and locked our gazes. “He’s still a baby. Too young to understand manipulation. Maybe he’s the one manipulating us…all that late night crying?”
“Maybe. He is a Moretti.”
A hint of a smile curved her lips, and I took that as an encouraging sign.
“What chance are you exactly asking for?” she asked. “Are you going to help with the late nights?”
“As much as I can,” I promised.
“Because I don’t want you to make it a habit to send us out of the room if we are interfering with your sleep like we’re a nuisance.”
I wanted to defend myself, but I’d just have to prove it.
“I won’t. I was an asshole.”
“Okay, but this is your last chance.”
I nodded. This was the first step to getting back into my wife’s good graces and have her look at me with love again.
