At least, this is what would happen in my family.
I’ll have to let them sort things out. For now, Tavi and Romeo are pleased enough with the intel Santo gave them that they’ve allowed him to live and will bring him back to the States.
So I’ll leave well enough alone.
I know what it’s like to be in love with someone you’re not allowed to love.
We spend a few blissful days eating good, fresh food. I cook most of it but feel badly his personal chef isn’t getting to do her job, so I enjoy a few meals made for me as well. But Tavi loves it when I cook for him.
And he eats more than any other human I’ve ever seen eat.
“Your mother must’ve fed you all day long when you were all teens.”
“Babe, you have no idea,” he says around a mouthful of ravioli. “No. Idea. You think it’s bad now? Ha. We had three refrigerators, two chefs, and my mother had a personal shopper.”
“Well, then,” I say, impressed.
“You think it’s an accident we own restaurants and bakeries?”
I smile around my glass of wine. “Uh, no.”
He takes another huge bite of ravioli. “Babe, we practically bought those for the wholesale food discount.”
In the evenings, we make love. Sometimes it’s sweet, and sometimes it’s rough. I like it rough, but there’s an almost healing vibe to our sweeter lovemaking sessions.
On the morning before we’re due to head home to America, I wake beside him.
“Tavi?”
His beard’s grown into thick stubble, and his eyes are still closed. He’s bare-chested and wearing boxers, one arm adorably tucked under his chin. I stroke the powerful swell of his inked bicep, lean in, and give him a gentle kiss.
“Mmm?”
He flexes his bicep for me, eyes still closed. With a giggle, I give him an obligatory squeeze.
“What happens if Romeo and Vittoria have no children?”
He shrugs. “He’ll still be Boss, but those of us with children will have more sway than we would otherwise. It’s in everyone’s best interest for us to have children.”
“Of course. And while I don’t think you need to usurp the throne or anything, I think I’d like a baby, too.”
I want to raise my children with my best friend. I like that we’ll have children the same age.
He grins, eyes still closed. “Yeah, we couldn’t usurp the throne if we wanted to, but I’m glad you have no interest. We can, however, strengthen our own small family with kids.” He opens one eye. “How many do you want?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, tracing his eyebrow. He gives me a funny look and chuckles. “Like three? Four?”
He nods. “Whatever you want, babe.”
I smile and kiss him, and he pulls the blanket back up over his arm and yawns.
“Is this you groveling?”
“Yup.”
“Might a girl get another Pronovias dress during this groveling phase? I mean, wedding dresses are only a very small part of what they make, you know.”
“Babe,” he says, his lips tipping up. “You could buy a hundred of those dresses with that card.”
“What?”
He only smiles. I am so going on the website today.
“Babe?”
I nod. “Yes?”
“You can get all the Pronovias dresses you want even when we’re out of the groveling stage.”
I grin, bend, and kiss him.
“I love you,” he says. “I love you so much.”
I sigh. I won’t get tired of hearing this. My parents never told me they loved me, because they loved themselves above all. But Ottavio Rossi loves me. We’ve chosen each other, and that’s what matters most of all.
“And I love you.”
CHAPTER 21
Tavi
We get back to America on a private flight. Santo’s stable and stationed between two armed guards. He’s quiet but isn’t brooding. He’s more… melancholy.
“We need to make sure the Regazzas stop their attack on our family, once and for all,” he says, as we take off.
As usual, Elise is holding my hand and doing her breathing. She has a small pill she’ll take to steady her nerves as well, a sedative the doctor prescribed.
“Boys?” she says, while she takes in deep breaths through her nose and releases them from her mouth. “Allow me.” She shakes her head. “I’ve had it. I won’t let my dead father destroy everything. I’ll make some phone calls. My mother doesn’t hold enough sway in our family to call any shots. She obviously was in league with Piero and his brother and one of our capos. But they weren’t anyone that had any power, Tavi. I know people who do. Here. Phone, please.”
I hand her her phone, and she makes a call. I watch as she purses her lips, and when someone answers the phone, she speaks in rapid Italian, then English, her voice tight and angry.
“Let me speak to Tony. Now.”
I feel my eyebrows hit my hairline. Santo mirrors my look of shock.
“Ascolta, amico.”
Listen up, buddy.
She goes on a tirade about mistresses and money and theft and lies and finally finishes. “My name is Elise Rossi. I am married to Ottavio Rossi, one of the most powerful made men in all of America. Your stupid-ass attack on his family ends now. I’m bringing a baby into this family, and if you think for one goddamn minute that I’ll allow you and your weak-ass shenanigans to cause one more second of stress to me or the baby or any of the members of the Rossi family, you are sadly mistaken. Oh, and Tony?”
I hear his voice on the other end of the line. “All that shit I just reminded you about? Your affair in Florence, the line of funds you intercepted from Switzerland, the way you lied to my family about it? You think I didn’t notice or I wouldn’t do anything because I was a child. Ha. Think again, buddy. You guys step one toe out of line, and it’s all coming down on you. I promise you. Got it?”
There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line as Santo and I stare at each other. I look back at her when she continues. “Ah, good. Now that we’ve got that sorted, please tell me, how’s Greta?”
Wow. My new wife can play hardball. She’s just pulled out one of the biggest blackmail trump cards I’ve ever seen.
We arrive back in America by nightfall. I’m so exhausted because of the last few days, I want to go straight back to The Castle and go to bed, but there’s a welcome party waiting for us at the airport.
Angelina, Orlando, and baby Nicolo wait for us beside the armored SUVs we often use for transport. Angelina looks white as a sheet. I give Orlando a quizzical look.
He only shakes his head.
But when Elise walks down the runway, Angelina hands Orlando the baby and walks straight to her.
“I’m sorry. Elise, I’m sorry,” she begins.
Elise sighs. “I know why you didn’t tell me,” she says. I know they’re talking about Piero. Now I understand. Angelina was sweating it out, afraid that Elise would never forgive her for not telling her.
Understandable.
“That was for Tavi to tell me,” she explains. “It’s all good now.”