Alexis laughs bitterly. “There better not be a next time. I’m not sure how many more life-changing secrets I can take.”
I wish I could see what’s going on inside her head. I barely knew my mother, so finding out that she wasn’t the woman I grew up believing she was wouldn’t be that hard a blow. Finding out she was Felicity Huffman, on the other hand…That would tear me apart.
“Alexis.” I take her hand, drawing her across the back seat until she is nestled against me. “I’m sorry you’re upset. I’m going to do everything I can to avoid giving you any more reasons to cry, because honestly, I’m not sure I can take it.”
She looks up, cracking a small smile. “The big Mafia man can’t handle a few girl tears?”
I smile back. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she says. “Though you’ve handed me the means of your destruction, and I think that was very unwise.”
I press a kiss into the top of her head. “You were always the means of my destruction. That’s never been a secret.”
Alexis has been to my penthouse apartment in the city once before, when we had lunch there as a family and conducted our first family interview. It looks a lot different tonight. The elevator door opens to a red carpet, which leads down the hall and to the oversized double doors at the end. When we go through the doors, the grand ballroom is lit by hundreds of candles. They are stacked on every surface and hang from lanterns on the ceiling. A buttery glow illuminates the faces of our guests, who are milling around the long banquet table when we enter.
Dom and his wife Mira smile at us from across the room. He is leaning on a wooden crutch but looks well otherwise. Mira’s eyes flit over Alexis and me. She’s wearing a pinched expression, her long blonde hair pulled back to emphasize her severe cheekbones and blazing blue eyes. One of the things my men’s wives always struggle with is their husbands’ undying loyalty to me over all others. Most are more graceful about it than Mira.
I scan the rest of the crowd. Antonio is standing front and center with a foaming beer and his wife, Sheila. Elia Conti is near the buffet with his wife, Aria. Mirko and his wife Gina are talking to Silvano, who stands out as the only single person in the room. Finally, Thomas Ricci and Piero Bianchi are clustered in the back of the room with their wives, Liz and Antonella.
All eyes turn to me, and I slide my hand around Alexis’ waist as I address the group. “Welcome. Thank you for joining us tonight.” I gesture to the table. “Please take a seat.”
Once everyone has sat, I walk to the table and pull out a chair at my right-hand side for Alexis, then take my seat at the head of the table.
All of the men here have seen Alexis before, if only in passing, but it’s obvious none of the wives have. They stare at her like she’s a tropical bird, and I might chastise them for their rudeness if my ego didn’t like it so much. Alexis is a sight to behold.
I glance at Alexis to see how she is holding up under the scrutiny and although her face is neutral, there is a panicked gleam in her eye. I’m disappointed. She’s my ferocious tiger. She’s not supposed to be afraid of anything.
I clear my throat and rise to my feet, holding my glass aloft. Perhaps a speech will set her more at ease.
“I am pleased to see all of your faces gathered before me,” I begin. “It has been far too long since we have convened like this. Until recently, the city has been overrun with enemies and rife with violence, and it is only due to the brave efforts of the men here that our operation maintains its strength in the face of such adversity. But today is a celebration of the women amongst us.” I glance down at Alexis. “The women who bandage our wounds, who dare us to push our boundaries, and whose endless devotion feeds us and makes us strong enough to fight against what can sometimes feel like impossible odds.
“Until I met Alexis, I never understood the value of a partnership. I thought I already had everything I needed, but I was wrong. She is my strength. My rock. She gives me something to fight for when it feels like all hope is lost. She is my queen.” I lift my glass a little higher. “To our queen.”
There is a chorus of “To our queen,” and everyone drinks.
I look at Alexis as I sip my champagne, and she has ironed the anxiety out of her features. She surveys the table coolly, almost as though she is bored, and gives me a small smile when our eyes meet.
I nod to the server waiting at the door, and the second I sit down, the room is flooded with delicious smells as the serving staff brings in the first course.
The night begins.
Alexis tips her head back, exposing the long, beautiful column of her throat. Her laugh flutters through the air, the sound of it intoxicating. When her eyes meet Mira’s across the table again, they are full of mirth.
“Is there any sight as wretched as that of a man in pain?” she jokes.
Mira just finished recounting how she spent the past couple of weeks looking after a moaning and groaning Dom, who couldn’t even bring himself to reach for the remote for the first few days.
Mira chuckles and rubs Dom’s arm. “They are so delicate at times.”
Dom bristles. “No more delicate than you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Alexis says, sipping her faux champagne primly. “A woman spends her whole life in pain. She gets used to it. More than that, she gets used to having to keep that pain to herself because our pain is taken for granted by society.”
“We’re also much less likely to be taken seriously by a doctor,” Mira pipes up. “Women in pain are told all the time that there is nothing wrong with them.”
Alexis smiles at her new friend. “And then they just have to get on with it.”
I think about when Alexis was kidnapped by Andrew Walsh. She went days without food, without being allowed to sleep, with the threat of her death hanging over her head every second. When I freed her, I expected a broken rag doll of a woman. But she was fine. Battered and bruised, but not broken. She could barely walk, but she only cared about getting Harry to safety.
And she’s right—I’ve taken her innate strength for granted ever since. I dropped a world-shattering secret on her right before a dinner where she needed to be at her strongest, and I didn’t think twice about it because I knew she could take it.
Guilt sits heavy in my stomach. As it turns out, I’m an asshole.
Mira and Alexis keep chatting, drawing in the opinions and voices of the wives who are close enough to contribute. I’m proud to see Alexis dominate the table, and I sit back and let her. This is her night.
When the last of the dessert plates have been cleared, we retire to the parlor while the staff sweeps the tables away to make room for a dance floor. The men sit and sip whiskey by the fireplace and suspiciously eye the group of women that have gathered around Alexis. Normally on these occasions, the wives hang around their husbands all night like shadows, so seeing them giggling in a corner together is unusual.
“I don’t know how I feel about this,” says Mirko. He is scowling, but then again, he always is.
Antonio grins. “I like it. Sheila is always complaining that she doesn’t have enough female friends. It’s nice to see her so happy.”