Page 101 of Fractured Empire

The corners of Dad’s mouth crinkle, smile lines forming smoothly. They’re one of the few signs of his advanced age, the man looking unreasonable fit and young for being alive for fifty-three years and fathering ten fucking kids.

“Speaking of work, I think it’s time that you make a move and deal with Ezio and Sara. We have permission from their superiors, and if we let them get away with their crimes for much longer, we may appear weak rather than strategic.”

My immediate urge to protest is quickly clamped down by folding my lips in. My father doesn’t often get involved with my side of the business, but when he does, it’s for a good reason. He’s been doing this for his entire life, trained by his father before him, and the men who helped create this Empire that we rule. If he says that the time to deal with Cleo’s vile parents has come, then he’s probably right.

“Did you hear something new?” I ask tightly.

“Nothing we weren’t already prepared to hear. Whispers are never-ending, and they don’t fully quiet until you’ve silenced the source. People need to know what happens when you talk about the Moretti family, especially about Moretti children.”

“I know that.” My fists tighten on top of my desk, not flexing in anger at my father, but rather frustration at this entire situation. “People questioning Leo’s legitimacy makes my blood fucking boil. We never denied that he was adopted, and no one should have had an issue with it because he’s not my heir. And even if he was, that would be my decision. If I only ever adopted children and made them into Morettis, they’d still be Morettis. Our word is law, and it pissed me the fuck off that anyone dares⁠—”

Cutting myself off, I shake my head and clear my throat before anger turns into a more uncontrollable emotion.

“They’re effectively calling him a bastard. A baby born from an affair who I somehow was able to part with for three years of his fucking life. What kind of monster could do that? And to know that the rumors were created by the people who should be his fucking grandparents…it makes me fucking sick.”

“I don’t blame you for being angry.”

“And Katya,” I exclaim. “They drag the sweetest woman into this because she was brave enough to take a chance on marrying me and becoming a part of our life. She moved to a completely unfamiliar territory with no friends, no family, and no safety net. She married a man she hardly knew just to help him take care of his young kids and she did it all without protest. So to hear her name being dragged around in the mud like she’s a mistress who’s been lurking in the shadows for years. Just, fuck!”

“You haven’t told her, have you?” Dad asks, not judging, but understanding. He doesn’t even need to hear an explanation from me to understand why I haven’t filled my wife in yet. The fact that the rumors haven’t gotten back to her family and made it to her is a fucking miracle at this point.

Well, a miracle I’ve tried quite hard to make happen. Not just to keep the lies from Katya’s ears, but to keep them from spreading in general. It hasn’t taken the mafia underground society by storm yet, and part of me thinks that’s mostly thanks to people knowing better than talking shit about the Moretti family. Sometimes, no matter how juicy you think a piece of gossip could be to share, you’d rather keep it to yourself than risk being heard spreading it.

“I’m going to,” I tell him, fully meaning it. “I just wanted to have it more under control before I tell her. I don’t want her to worry about something while it’s happening. She’ll probably be sad to hear it when I finally let her know, but at least I’ll be able to tell her that it’s handled when I do. It shouldn’t keep her up at night that way, I hope.”

Dad hums, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “Well, it’s not like it needs to be finished tonight. I came here to advise you to act soon, but it doesn’t need to be now. In fact, I think you should use my being here to your advantage in a completely different way.”

I give him a questioning look and he rolls his eyes, as if it should be obvious.

“Take your wife out on a date, Son. Leave me with the kids, and go romance your woman. It’ll be good for them to see you taking her out all dressed up.”

See, meddler.

“It’s nice of you to offer, but⁠—”

“I could order, if you want,” he cuts in sternly. “Take off for an early dinner in a few hours. Go dancing or to see a movie that isn’t about cartoon characters. Do something to make you feel like an adult man for once, Leon.”

I hesitate, not wanting to take time away from his day. For all I know, he had a whole list of things to do after coming to speak with me. But honestly, everything we’ve just communicated could have been done over the phone. Which leads me to believe my father missed my children and made this trip as an excuse to see them. Or hell, maybe he missed me. He’s getting sentimental in his old age.

“You sure you won’t mind? They might pout about not being invited out.”

“They have a puppy, they’ll get over it,” Dad counters.

“You’re not wrong.”

“I never am.”

“Okay, that’s a stretch.”

He leans forward in challenge. “Is it?”

Dramatic, sentimental old man.

Despite my hesitation to accept my father’s offer at first, it quickly becomes clear that he nailed exactly what I needed to quell my moodiness from our work discussion. Just seeing the glee that lit up my wife’s face when I invited her out was enough to know that my father sometimes knows best. I couldn’t exactly get her roses to offer her with my proposal with such little time to prepare, but she was thrilled to be asked, even by her empty-handed husband.

I’d expected Leo and Bastian to pout about being left at home while Daddy and Katya went out, but they were more excited for us than anything else. Leo demanded to help Katya choose a pretty dress when she worried that she might not have an appropriate choice. A process that seemed to tickle them both pink. And with my assurance that I wouldn’t spring a formal dinner on her with no notice, she enjoyed the process rather than fretting over if she had an elegant enough dress.

I briefly debated taking her somewhere to buy her a new dress for the date before driving us to the restaurant I had in mind, but I didn’t want her to think I needed her dripping in designer gowns to take her out. Frankly, I would take her out in her pajamas if I could guarantee no one would see her aside from myself. Katya could wear a potato sack and still look like a supermodel.