Marrying the Mob Prince

Tony

Four Years Later

How did I get here?

Tightness clawed my throat as I folded my son’s side-snap bodysuit and packed it in a suitcase. Tristan had grown out of it. So had Massimo. Neither of my boys would ever fit in them again, and that resonated inside me with a beautiful, awful pain. Wrapping up something that was my whole world was hard.

Four years had gone by.

We’d spent the weekend at Vinn’s beach house after a frenzied afternoon of celebrating his son’s third birthday, and this was our last night. Nostalgia made me pack Tristan’s baby clothes, and now they didn’t fit on either of my boys.

The whole gang packed the house. I barely got a minute of shut-eye without Michael’s children thundering the stairs, but I liked the noise. I’d missed my dad’s big family reunions.

Our fifteen-month-old, Massimo, sat on the rug, banging the wrong end of a drumstick into the wooden toy. He was my mini-me, identical to me in every way. He offered the stick to Tristan, who shook his head. Massimo seized the edge of the couch and lifted himself. He headed toward me, grinning. This kid would crawl through a bed of nails to reach me.

I set him on my lap. “Want to read a book?”

He shook his head.

“Want num-nums?”

He shook his head, pointing at someone’s beer glass.

I shoved it way out of reach. “Kid, you scare me sometimes.”

Actually, he gave me heart attacks on a regular basis. Probably because my world would end if anything bad ever happened to him. I took his hands, and his fists closed on my fingers as he walked forward purposely. I bent over and let him run toward Vinn’s dog, a golden retriever with a saintlike patience with children.

Evie took over watching Tristan as I expended Massimo’s limitless energy on the beach. Massimo slapped my cheeks with wet sand. His face lit up in fiendish delight when I groaned.

I wiped it off as Evie softly chided him.

“Massimo, don’t do that to Daddy.”

“Swear to God, I was not this much of a pain in the ass as a baby.”

Evie chuckled softly. “Your mom says you threw tantrums all the time. Sometimes, you’d get so upset you’d vomit and pass out.”

“Good Lord. Is that what we’re in for?”

Evie shrugged.

I worried about the similarities constantly. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my life as it was in the moment, but the weight of being a parent got worse as the kids grew older. Tristan had been an easy baby. Calm as hell. Always happy. A deceptive introduction to parenthood.

Massimo was another story.

My back ached from allowing my toddler to steer me around the beach, toward rushing waves that meant certain death for him.

I picked him up and set him away.

Massimo sprinted back to the water.

“You can’t go in the ocean, buddy,” I growled as he let out an earsplitting cry. “I said no. Why are you’re so stubborn?”

I lifted him to the sky and made airplane noises, and then I let him plunge down. He squealed and pumped his fists as I did it again. When the sun made the water shimmer like orange glass, we strolled back to Vinn’s beach house.

It was packed with kids settling down for Sunday dinner. Mom and Zia Lena ladled gravy onto plates. I squeezed past them. Massimo pointed at Mom, beaming.

“Vuoi andare da la tua nonna?”

He nodded.

“Ma, can you feed him for me?”

I transferred him to Mom’s lap, and she wasted no time in coaxing my son into eating. At least he wasn’t difficult about that. I waved to my mother-in-law, who sat beside Mom. Then I passed the table and strolled into the kitchen, where Michael stood at the stove with his sister, Liana.

“That’s not how you do it!” he shouted, banging the pot with the tongs. “You need to salt the water. Then you add butter after you drain the pasta.”

Liana rolled her eyes and pinched his stomach. “You don’t need more butter, old man. Your arteries can’t take it.”

Michael’s dark scowl smoothed into delight as we locked eyes. “Anthony. Settle a bet with me.”

“What is it?”

“You add butter to the noodles before the gravy to make it stick.”

“Your brother’s right.” I patted Liana’s shoulder, grinning. “But he always thins out the sauce with too many vegetables, so it doesn’t fucking matter.”

Liana chuckled. “Shots fired.”

“That’s my wife’s recipe.” Michael waved the tongs at me. “Take it back, you dick.”

“Sorry. It’s the truth.”

“Never mind,” he smoldered, shaking his head. “I’ll beat your ass later.”

“Okay. Do you want to give me the twenty grand now? Or later when I clean you out?” I winked at him and headed out the kitchen.

We had a poker tournament running all weekend. We played every night after the kids were in bed. The fierce competition had sparked a few heated moments. Trash talk was encouraged. None of the wives liked it except for mine, because I always won. It went without saying that I was the king.

I walked the halls and stumbled on Alessio making out with Mia. She unlatched from him and hugged me. All was forgiven.

“Aren’t you going to eat with us?”

I patted her back. “In a little bit.”

I made my excuses and went outside, where dark blue blanketed the beach. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget what I’d been through. On nights like this, I grappled with guilt. I needed to get away from it all.

I sat on the beach as waves touched the sand. I couldn’t relax with the water so close to the house. I’d probably sit outside for a few hours.

“Are you all right?”

I was so absorbed in my task that the voice next to me caught me off guard.

I turned on my phone, illuminating Alessio’s face. “Better than I’ve ever been.”

“I keep waiting for you to come back to us. You’re not like how you used to be. You were the life of the party back in the day.”

I didn’t do that anymore. “This is as normal as I’ll ever get, besides cleaning you all out at cards. You owe me fifty grand, by the way.”

“Mia will divorce me if we keep this shit up.”

“If you gamble away your kids’ college tuition, I’ll give you a classic, six-for-five loan. Twenty percent a week. You can pay me every Thursday.”

“Thursdays are no good for me. What about Saturday?”

“Ah, I play golf on my yacht on Saturdays.”

We shared a laugh that echoed down the beach. When it died, Alessio made a contemplative sound.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Been meaning to talk to you for a while. For years, actually. You can’t avoid me forever, Anthony.”

Too bad.

“Is this about Mia?”

He was referring to the time when I got so high I made out with his wife. I remembered the hospital visit after he beat the shit out of me, but nothing else.

I shook my head. “I don’t even remember it, Alessio.”

Alessio waited for me to elaborate as my stomach twisted in knots. Then he sighed, long and hard.

“Do you think your dad would be happy, if he was here with us? Would he be proud of us?”

Considering I killed him, I doubt it.

“You? Sure. Not me.” I crossed my arms, my gaze flicking to the shore. “Tell you the truth, I don’t think of him.”

Alessio’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

A shadow moved in the dark, and I turned my flashlight toward the waves. A child tottered down the beach. I got up and sprinted toward him, scooping him before his bare feet touched the water. Alessio’s light landed on the kid’s face. One of Vinn’s.

I returned to the house, where a frantic Vinn tore apart the house. “I’ve got him. He was this close to the water.”

Vinn took Chris from me, looking nauseated. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“Guys, I think I’m going to skip poker night. I’m beat.”

They slapped my back and I headed into our room with the kids. Massimo bounced in Evie’s arms, fussing. He whined as I walked in the room, his arms outstretched toward me.

Evie laughed. “I love how he forgets I exist whenever you show up.”

“Vieni da papa.”

I scooped him in my arms, his dark eyes glistening as he groped my beard and pinched my nose. I’d hoped he’d be like Tristan, sweet and easy to please, but more and more I realized we were watered down versions of our parents. Tristan was her shadow. Massimo was mine.

I hiked him on my hip. “This kid worries me. He’s my mirror.”

“What the hell did you expect, honey? You’re his dad. Of course he’s going to be like you.”

“I hoped they’d take after you.”

“He’s just a baby, T.”

I shook my head, sighing. “What if he’s just as troubled? What if he goes to college and comes back with a drug addiction? What if-”

“I’m not worried. I quite like who you are and what you’ve chosen to become.”

Evie pressed her soft lips to my cheek, and I flushed like a teenage boy. With her I was the luckiest man in the world.

I dragged Evie into my arms. The salted air from the beach had played with her hair, teasing her chocolate waves. Gorgeous. She kissed the top of Massimo’s head, and my chest tightened.

Her and him.

My life.

My redemption.

For too long, I’d lived in the devil’s shadow. Now I had a reason to live. To defend. To channel my rage into something pure.

Evie tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, her soft eyes crashing into mine. “What are you thinking about?”

“How much I love you. How I almost lost you. How I nearly ruined this.”

She shushed me with a hand on my cheek.

I used to push her away. Now I pulled her closer.

“Tony, there’s no room for the past in our new lives together.”

I stroked my son’s head and cradled her belly. “Is there room for one more?”

“Already?”

“Time flies. I don’t want to waste another minute.”

She leaned on my shoulder, smiling. “I love you, Tony.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Saving me. Loving me. Giving me this life.”

A life that, for the first time, I planned to protect and cherish.