Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“Jesus. You’re one kid off a dad bod,” I said with a smirk.
He flipped me off. “I can still kick your ass. Want a demonstration?”
I grinned. “Can’t. I’m holding the baby.”
Dante barrelled into the room like a tornado of toddler chaos, all wild black curls and Una’s eyes staring back at me. The kid was only three, and I swear to God, he had the devil in him.
“Gio.” He looked so damn happy to see me, though I knew what he was after. He stopped beside my chair, and I plucked the bag of candy from my pocket, handing it off like it was a damn shakedown. Just like that, he bolted for the door.
Nero caught him by the back of his shirt. “Not before breakfast, Dante.”
I laughed as my friend glared at me. “You’re a dick.”
“Dick!” Dante announced, and I threw my head back on a laugh.
Nero wrestled Dante into a high chair, forcibly bending his legs when he acted like he had rigor mortis. The whole scene was so weird and yet so normal that for a minute, I was bitterly jealous. Nero was a mafia boss married to a Russian assassin, but they had a slice of bliss here, something away from blood, money, and power. Something more important. This was what he took a step back for, and it was so worth it.
I pictured this with Emilia, imagined her with my child. For a second, I wanted it so fucking badly that it was almost painful. Then I blinked, and reality resumed. I had problems to deal with, shit to focus on.
“Come on. Bring my princess.” Nero grabbed two coffees while Margot put a bowl of oatmeal in front of Dante that I was sure they’d both be wearing soon enough.
We went into the living room, and I took in the cream furniture and crystal chandelier. He hadn’t changed the place much since he had taken it from his father, and I didn’t understand why. Not like he was close with Cesare. He’d killed the man and taken his place, for fuck’s sake.
Nero placed the drinks down before taking Tatyana from me. I actually missed her small weight in my arms. Nero cocked a brow at me as he placed her on his shoulder.
“Are you…” he narrowed his eyes, “broody?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He laughed and picked up his coffee. “Well, according to The Times, you’re engaged now.”
“That was just for appearances.”
“With the girl that you agreed to marry in exchange for an Outfit alliance? That was just for appearances…”
He took a seat in the armchair, and I dropped onto the couch.
“It’s… She’s…” Fuck, how was I going to explain my deal with Emilia?
“She ran. You don’t want to force her, but they also tried to kill her, so you aren’t sending her on her merry way.” He took a sip of coffee while rubbing over Tatyana’s back, his hand spanning her entire body. “You’re predictable as fuck, Gio.”
“And Jackson and Tommy gossip like old women.”
“Tommy gossips with Una.”
“And Una gossips with you.”
“The Kiss of Death does not gossip.” He snorted. “She passes on useful information.”
I traced one finger over a shaft of sunlight on the arm of the chair, not wanting to look at him while I spoke about Emilia. It felt too…weak, maybe. “You aren’t going to tell me that I’m being stupid and I should send her back or bathe in her blood.”
He shrugged one large shoulder, Tatyana bobbing with the movement. “Tommy said she’d be good for you. You could do with a little good.” It was almost…nice for Nero. If only that little good actually wanted me, though.
“You didn’t come to talk about your future wife, though. What brings you here, aside from the obvious?” He reclined back in his seat, and even in this casual state, with a baby on his chest, Nero radiated power.
“I came to warn you. We caught some mob kid with a stolen shipment. Jackson did his thing. Killed him.”
He lifted a brow. “Did he find the rat?”
“No.”
His slow release of breath seemed to ratchet the tension in the room. I knew he was pissed because if there were two things Nero valued most, it was loyalty and fear, and the fact that anyone would be brave enough to betray him infuriated him.
“Turns out the kid was Shane O’Hara. Patrick’s nephew.”
The smile that crept over Nero’s lips tinged on insanity. Mad fucker. “Paddy’s gonna be pissed.”
“Yeah, he’s going to want retribution.”
Nero cracked his neck to the side. “Good. Let’s get this shit done. Call Jackson. We’ll go wipe out the mob tonight.” He pushed to his feet, and I followed, standing in front of him.
“You know that’ll fuck us over in the long run. We have a good thing going with Rafe and Chicago. We’re untouchable in New York because we keep the dirty shit there.” Years; I had worked for years to get all the pieces lined up on the board. No one liked attention, and taking out the entire mob…that drew the kind of attention that had blowback. “We start a blood bath and that bubble of protection disappears.”