I took her hand and brought it to my mouth, kissing her pulse longer than usual.
She grinned. “Più delle parole, mio marito,” she whispered in Italian. More than words, my husband. Then she started to hum while she stared at our son.
A knock came at the door. Mariposa didn’t even bother to look up. She was beyond tired and well past in love with the baby in her arms—she was deliriously high on life.
Not long after Saverio had been born, I sent our family out the door. Mariposa needed rest, and I wanted time to study his features without having to share him when one of the women got grabby hands. So I had no idea who it could be—maybe it was one of the nurses, but they usually knocked and then came in.
Keely, Cash Kelly, and Harry Boy stood on the other side of the door. Keely had gifts in her arms.
I narrowed my eyes at the two men after Keely barreled past me, going straight for Mariposa and Saverio.
Harry Boy nodded at me. “Do you mind if—” He nodded toward my wife.
Mariposa glanced up when he asked. Keely had already taken Saverio in her arms, making faces at him, but she looked up, too. All eyes were on me.
I nodded once but said nothing. He thought we were cool after I saved his sister, but he’d always be on thin ice with me. He was still in love with my wife, even after he showed some interest in my cousin, Gigi.
Cash stood at the door, not entering. “You got a minute to spare, Macchiavello?”
I turned to Mariposa. She was biting her lip, squeezing the blankets covering her legs, her eyes wary. She didn’t like that Cash was here.
“A minute,” I said to her.
She nodded once but said nothing. Keely said something to her, but she didn’t look away from me until she knew her point had been caught and taken to heart—don’t commit to anything that would take you away from us.
After shutting the door, we stood out in the hallway, my back to the wall. Cash stood next to me.
“Congratulations,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Your wife did a fine job. Your son is a big, healthy boy.”
He didn’t have a hard Irish accent, but the lilt was there.
I nodded. “You came all this way to chit chat about my family? Doubtful. Let’s discuss business.”
He sighed. “Tell me where I stand with the new King of New York. I’ve heard rumors. After Arturo and Achille were killed, no sons left to claim the throne, rumor has it that you’re the man who’s stepped into the role of king. We don’t usually run in the same circles.” He grinned. “But unforeseen circumstances, gravity, perhaps, has sucked us into this gray area at the same time.”
“You stand right where you are. I stand here. We’re neither friend nor foe. I did you one. You did me one. We’re square now. But I’m not taking over the Scarpone family. That legacy has died with the men who made it into what it was. What it was? Depends on who you ask, but if you ask me, here’s my answer. It was something I want no part of. I’ve made my own life. I’ll rule it the way I see fit. I work for one family beside my own—the Faustis. Other than that….” I shrugged.
I had my investments, my businesses, plenty for me and mine to live comfortably on for the rest of our lives.
It had been my intention to be the new King of New York, the new King Wolf, but unforeseen circumstances—my wife, my son—had changed the direction of my footsteps. And those footsteps led me back to the door where, beyond it, my kingdom waited for me to return.
Epilogue
Mariposa
10 Years Later
“Peeeeeassse. Mamma, peeeassse!”
My entire body tilted to the left, my arm being yanked, my shoulder shaking up and down. “Evelina, child, calm yourself.” I smiled at my spunky five-year old. She was our third child out of four, and our only girl. To say she was the apple of her Papa’s eyes would be a lie—she was the entire pie. And the poor thing had my nose. At least she had her Papa’s eyes.
She stopped shaking me, and I saw the thoughts move behind her sapphire eyes like honey. Her black hair made them pop against her tan skin. Her lips were full and pink, and she puckered them just right. She learned early on that it took sugar to catch butterflies, not salt.
“Mamma.” Her voice was so soft, so sweet, and she put my hand to her mouth, placing a tender kiss on my finger. “Can I peeeeeeassse see dis wing?” She lifted the hand she held, showing it to me.
She wanted to try on my wedding rings. She had gotten into a stage where she loved princesses, and if it was shiny, like something they wore, she wanted it, or to at least try it on.
I rarely took my rings off. The last time was when I made meatballs, but only so the meat wouldn’t get stuck between the facets. I put it in a special place until my hands were washed. It took ten minutes, tops, and they were back on. Sometimes I even left my wedding band on and just used a brush to scrub the ring after.
For our ninth anniversary, Capo had given me a diamond band to wear on my right hand, third finger, and I never took that one off either. Four butterflies circled around my finger, as they would forever circle around my heart. Each butterfly represented one of our children.
Evelina often asked to wear that one, but this was the first time she asked to wear my wedding rings. They were symbols I’d never get tired of.
Him. Us. Spending this life together. Living it.
“I give ’em right back.” She batted her thick lashes at me. “Pweety peeeeeeassse.”
I laughed at how sweet she was being. Miss Subtle. That was our daughter—Evelina Noemi Maria. “All right.” I sighed. “But you have to sit at the kitchen table. And you can only wear them for a second. These rings are like important clothes to mamma. I need them to feel dressed and ready for the day.”
She giggled, taking my hand and leading me to the table. I picked her up before she could climb up, and she went weee! as I sat her chunky little bottom down on the chair.
We were at the villa on the outskirts of Modica. It wasn’t a large house, but we had made it comfortable for our family. We made it into a home. The kitchen was my favorite room. We spent most of our time there.
I took both rings off and slid them on her finger. They were so big that they almost slid off, but she held them together. I kissed her hand before I stood, watching her eyes shine at how pretty they were.
“Dese are so pweety, mamma,” she breathed out. “I luv dem.” Then she hugged herself, like she couldn’t get any happier than she was in that moment.
The timer went off on the oven, and I turned for a second, remembering that I had to take the red pepper tart out. Family was coming over to have dinner in our garden for our anniversary.
“Evelina.” My voice was sharp with warning. “Sit right there and don’t move. Do you hear, Mamma? I’m just going to take the tart out of the oven.”
She nodded her head frantically, excited that I was going to let her wear the rings for a second longer. I hurriedly took out the tart, placing it on the stove, mentally calculating what else I had to do.
“What dis says?” Evelina asked.
I turned to find her staring at my engagement ring. She had taken it off and was holding it up to the light.