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“Dante, at the risk of sounding like a fucking scratched record, you know the stakes. If that woman isn’t returned to Boston tonight, we’re looking at a war. And without De Luca, our strength is halved. We are in no position to face the Irish and the fuckers they’re probably joining forces with, in a full-out war. So for the last fucking time, return Red Wine to the Irish and fucking kiss and make up with De Luca,” Nico commands, his voice rising with each word.
“I can’t. I’m in love with her, Nico.” It feels incredible to be able to say it out loud.
I see Nico’s eyes go soft for a second, then his face hardens again.
“She’s your half-sister, fratellino.”
I point to myself. “Do I look like I give a shit?”
“She might give a shit.” Nico counters.
“Or not.”
Nico only shakes his head. “You’re fucked up way beyond redemption, you know that?”
“No argument there.”
“Anyway, you still need to let her go, fratellino. Only for a few weeks. I swear I'll bring her back here myself once we smooth De Luca’s ruffled feathers and once the dust of your betrayal has settled.”
I’m not sure which one of us is more stubborn. I’d say Nico because I’m sure deep down, he’s always known this would happen, but he chose to ignore it. “Nico, I couldn’t let her go even if I wanted to.”
Nico drags his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated now. “Why the hell not, Dante?”
“Because she’s carrying my child.”
Nico goes still for a long moment, his face frozen in shock. I’m beginning to think he didn’t hear me when he suddenly roars, “Fuuuuck! You always have to be a fucking inconvenient pain in the fucking ass, don’t you, Dante? This is a fucking unsurvivable war. You know that?”
I chuckle. “Calm down and look at the bright side. At least we get to die with honor. Nothing beats going down as human shields for the women we love.”
“Seriously?” Nico thunders, his eyes flashing. “You still have the guts to talk out the side of your neck after pulling this shitstorm?”
I shrug, my nonchalance a deliberate provocation. I watch him, silently begging him to erupt. I want to hit something. I need it. We both do after last night.
I almost sigh in relief when, in a flash, Nico leaps off his seat and rounds the desk. He grabs me by the collar and slams me into the nearest wall, his face mere inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin. “I swear to God, I’ll kill you with my bare hands before this is over.”
“You can fucking try,” I growl.
Just then, the door flies open. Father strides into the conference room, his footsteps echoing on the polished floor. He takes in the situation, his sharp gaze lingering on Nico’s hands bunched in my shirt, and my defiant smirk.
“Why am I not shocked?” Father shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Nico immediately releases me, but not without a parting fist to my face. Already anticipating the move, I duck, the rush of air from my quick movements ruffling my hair. I return swinging, sending my own fist into his hard jaw. It lands with a satisfying impact on my knuckle. Nico staggers back, his eyes wide with surprise, anger, and a grudging respect. He used to have much faster reflexes than me.
“You’ve gone a bit soft, fratello,” I taunt, rubbing the salt in. “I suggest less cuddling, more training.”
Father deftly steps between us and pushes Nico away before he tackles me to the ground. While Nico and I tower over him, the strength in Father’s muscly frame is unmistakable.
“Enough, both of you,” he barks, pushing against our chests to send us further apart. “We have more pressing matters to attend to. Such as a family breakfast.”
The mention of breakfast captures our attention because we have never ever had breakfast together as a family and I don’t eat before noon.
Father faces me, “Dante. Your Irish woman has been extracted from where you thought you were hiding her. She’s in the kitchen with your mother and Sophie as we speak.”
My heart skips a beat as protectiveness rises in my chest. “She’s where right now?”
“They’re making her breakfast.” Father tosses his head in the direction of the kitchen, the light catching the silver in his hair. The implication is clear: Sophie and Mother are pumping Addy for information.
I clench my fists. For fuck’s sake, the woman is still reeling from last night’s close shave. I was hoping we could talk more and lose ourselves in each other for one more day before unleashing my family on her.
