Ana
Cassio and I walk hand and hand all the way inside. Before any sort of debrief, he takes me to the nearest bathroom and begins tending to my cut finger. He disinfects the area, adds some sort of healing cream and then covers it in a plain band-aid. He doesn’t do any of the same for his own finger, merely running it under some warm water and ignoring the small opening that remains.
“You’re still bleeding,” I point out softly.
“It’ll stop.” Cassio shrugs.
Before he can consider leaving, I take his hand. I’m not sure what comes over me when I pick up another bandage and secure it over his small bleed. He watches me intently, almost as if trying to read my mind.
“They’ll be setting up the reception tables now,” he eventually says. “Would you like a few minutes to yourself?”
“Yes,” I agree quickly. “Just to freshen up, I think.”
And to prepare myself for more human interaction.
“Call for me if you need me, okay? I’ll be right outside.”
“I will.”
Cassio looks at the door, hesitating. The back of his knuckle softly caresses the apple of my cheek. “You did so well, forza.”
“Forza,” I echo. “You called me that before. What does it mean?”
“Force,” Cassio translates, a light smile on his lips. “You, my wife, are a force to be reckoned with. I can’t wait until everyone sees for themselves.”
He leaves me to contemplate his words, too stunned to reply.
Overwhelmed and alone, I use the bathroom sink to brush some cold water on the back of my neck and sigh. My makeup is still in perfect condition, even my lips—despite the kiss that Cassio and I shared.
A good kiss.
Short and sweet, but somehow meaningful, almost passionate.
Needing to sit down, I find myself looking for a quiet corner of the house. Stumbling upon an unoccupied lounge, I forgo a chair in favor of collapsing against a wall and sliding down to the floor. The hard wood is cool to the touch, the temperature helping me ground myself.
You’re fine, I tell myself with a sigh.
You did well, Cassio told you so.
Once the internal thoughts start, they’re hard to stop.
You’re doing this for a good reason.
Cassio has been so nice; you don’t need to worry.
In the midst of my mental rambling, my eyes catch on a bright flash of metal. Stashed on the underside of the chair nearest me, an unsheathed knife pokes out. I reach for it instinctively, curious about the weapon.
It’s a standard tactical knife with a straight blade. I don’t test the tip’s sharpness, sure that any weapon in this house is properly kept. In fact, it’s so polished that I can see my reflection in the shiny blade. Jade and Matteo have mentioned that the house has stashes of self-defense material in the past, but I’ve never happened upon them before.
Perhaps I’ll start carrying a knife. Maybe even a gun.
I doubt the men who captured us two nights ago even searched me for a weapon. Cole and Killian were always in possession of some kind of defense, but not me. I never saw the appeal or had the need.
Tilting the blade between my hands, I wonder, would that night have gone differently if I had one of these up my sleeve?
The satisfying image of a bald head speared with a knife almost makes me smile. But no, a quick blow to the brain would be too kind for that man. If I could pick, I’d want him skinned alive. I think hearing his screams might heal me in ways that nothing else could.
“If you are thinking about ending your life, just know that I’ll shoot that knife out of your hand before you make my brother a widow twice over.” The deep rumble of Nico Moretti’s voice startles me out of my trance.
His cold words take a minute to process and my nose scrunches until I look at the steel blade in my hand once again. He thinks I’m contemplating offing myself. I can understand his thought process, but he couldn’t be further off base.
“I’m not going to kill myself,” I mutter numbly. Slowly extending my arm out to the side, my fingers release the hilt and I watch as it clatters against the tiled floor. “I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.”
Nico eyes me with suspicion and cocks a brow. “Why not?”
Surprised by his candor, I can’t help but snort. “If I die, Killian wakes up alone. He’s… he’s my brother. Cole is gone, Bron is gone. I should have the guts to stick around, otherwise he’ll have no one.”
It’s deadly silent for a moment.
“You and Cassio have more in common than you think.”
“Maybe,” I reply with a helpless shrug. I can’t confirm or deny, I hardly know the man who’s now my husband.
“Why the knife?” He nods to the discarded weapon. “If you weren’t going to hurt yourself, why were you staring at it like it was your salvation?”
I don’t contemplate lying, not even for a moment. “I was thinking about revenge. I want to make whoever did this to me wish they were never born.”
His mouth twitches in the barest hint of a smile. “Now you’re starting to sound like a Moretti—minus the accent, of course.”
“I can do American,” I admit, shifting into an impressive impersonation of a standard States’ accent. “I’m afraid Italian American isn’t in my repertoire. I’ll have to work on it.”
Nico tilts his head, assessing me. “Accents come in handy for you, do they? Did you learn them for some kind of strategy?”
“I was a bored child,” I tell him with a huff. “I liked to mimic people. I can do more. French, Australian, and a few others. The only thing that they were useful for was entertaining myself.”
“But you see how they could be useful now?”
“I guess. Disguising myself would be easier with a voice change… but I don’t see why I would need to do that.”
“Oh, Ana.” Nico gives me a dull look, blinking once. “You never know when you need an ace up your sleeve. I’ll let you in on a little secret to this life we live. Every single thing you’ve ever learned, every bit of information you know… that’s what makes you a weapon. A one of a kind, never to be replicated weapon.”
“I hardly think I’m a weapon.”
“All people are weapons, some of us are just more honed than others.”
I let his words digest and nod solemnly.
“Before they shot Killian, he told them that they would regret it, that we have allies who’d avenge them. It’s stupid… but part of me thought maybe he was talking about me. The men, they told Cole and Killian that I wouldn’t be dying, but maybe he thought they’d change their minds if he threatened them with me.”
I swallow, shaking my head. “They probably would have laughed at the thought. They called me a little girl.”
“Little girls with the right connections can do a lot of damage,” Nico states flatly. “They would have been foolish to laugh.”
“The bald one,” I spit his description. “He laughed a lot. Thought the whole thing was funny. Called me a whore, too. He said he didn’t have a taste for torture, but he’d make an exception for Cole because he was mouthy. I hope someone gives him a taste of torture.”
Nico tilts his head, assessing me. “Maybe someone will.”
It almost sounds like a promise.
“Come on, the reception awaits your presence. The sooner you mingle and eat cake, the sooner we can get all of these interlopers out of my house.”
Nodding at his suggestion, I get to my feet and Nico escorts me back to the party. Gone is the aisle with rows of seating—all replaced by long tables and chairs for a proper celebration. He brings me right to my new husband, not stopping to speak to anyone we pass.
Cassio is seated at the head table, and he isn’t entirely alone. In his lap sits the most adorable baby girl dawning a tiny dress the same blue shade as her mother’s. Noticing my appearance, he pulls out the chair next to him and gestures for me to take it.
“Food will be served soon, if you’re hungry.”
Smiling tightly, I dip my head in a nod. “Maybe.”
The truth is, I get hungrier every time I try to eat and fail. I might actually be able to manage a few hefty bites with how empty my stomach feels. I just hope whatever is being served isn’t too heavy.
My eyes catch Isobella as she coos and babbles at Cassio while reaching for his tie to play with. She fumbles with the black fabric, her chubby little fingers molding around it. Seconds later, she’s happily shoving it between her tiny lips and chewing in delight.
“Uncle Armani will not be pleased to see you soiling a Versace tie, piccola,” he tells her without making a move to take the cloth from her mouth.
Isobella seems to give him a gummy grin and giggles like they’re sharing some kind of inside joke.
Cassio tickles the underside of her chin and smiles back. “Yes, I agree, he will have to get over it.”
Seeing such a simple but caring act from my new husband is the most calming thing that’s occurred all evening. It’s not an orchestrated act like the wedding itself, it’s pure and natural—almost soothing to witness.
“She likes you a lot,” I comment, watching the soft exchange between uncle and niece.
I was never overly nervous about being paired with a Moretti son. Nervous to be married at all, and at such a horrible time, yes. But I was thankful my options were amongst the Moretti clan. Mostly because of all the things Jade has told me about them.
They’re incredibly loyal brothers, and from what I can tell, generally good men. Good is subjective in a world full of mafiosos, criminals, and gangsters. And still, as far as arranged husbands go, I’ve practically won the lottery.
I have no fairytale delusions about how my marriage to Cassio will go, but watching him dote on such a small, innocent, and sweet baby reminds me that I have nothing to fear from him.
He knows how to handle people with care, that much is evident. I’m afraid I’m going to need a lot of care, and soon. The chaos of the wedding has proven to be efficient in distracting me from the dark and depressing monster lurking in my mind, waiting to strike. Not to mention the small dose of mood stabilizer from the Moretti doctor.
Nothing has truly itched at the numbness I’ve been feeling, nothing besides fear and anxiety. But this small moment of peace feels like something. Something not so horrible, indeed.
“Isobella likes everyone, she has a soft heart,” Cassio replies diplomatically before letting a small smirk slip. “But I won’t deny being a favorite.”
I can’t help but admire the small girl, seeing the unbridled joy lighting up her face. “She looks just like Jade, don’t you think?”
Cassio chuckles and nods. “Yes, Dante Moretti has the strongest genes known to man. Cesar looks a bit more like Dmitri, at least. He’s got his nose.”
“Cesar may look like Dmitri but his temperament is all Matteo,” I say, surprising myself when I feel a quirk to my lips.
It’s… easy talking to Cassio. At least when it’s about his—now our—adorable niece and nephew. I suppose it makes sense. Children have always been one of my happy places. Caring for the little ones at the orphanage is the thing that makes me feel fullest.
“Cesar is going to be a terror,” he tells me with a half-dramatic sigh. “We’ve already discovered his infatuation with both pretty girls and explosives.”
My eyes widen, mouth agape. “Explosives?”
“Remo and Matteo were testing out some new Tannerite drone in the backyard last week, Dmitri let Cesar watch from the porch,” Cassio explains, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He spins the device toward me and our fingers lightly brush as I take it.
On the display there’s a picture of baby Cesar in his father’s arms, wearing large blue ear protective gear. He’s positively adorable and grinning so big.
“Isobella was asleep, but of course Cesar wouldn’t nap and Dmitri didn’t want the noise to startle him so he figured he’d show him to keep him calm. Some families introduce babies to fireworks, and some families show them an exploding pallet of cinder blocks.”
Passing the phone back, I shrug. “It’s just an advanced science lesson, no harm.”
My husband’s lips twitch in amusement. “A science lesson, that’s a clever way of thinking about it.”
A small ripple of warmth crawls up my neck at his apparent praise, but before I can reply, Jade is at my side and putting her son in my lap.
“Please watch him for a second? I have to pee so bad and Dmitri is talking with Dad,” she pleads and waits for my confirming nod before rushing off toward the house. She calls out her thanks as she disappears.
The soft weight of Cesar sitting in my lap draws my attention, and I look down to find him already grinning up at me. He’s wearing a black onesie with a tuxedo printed design and the smallest little pair of matching trousers. When he starts to squirm a bit, I help rearrange him until he’s burying his head into my chest for a snuggle.
Cassio chuckles at the boy’s enthusiastic cuddling. “I told you. Pretty girls are his new favorite thing.”
My cheeks burn, realizing that he’s just called me pretty. I’m not in denial about being appealing to look at. I’ve recognized my own beauty for years, but hearing it from Cassio so openly is shocking.
“And how did we discover this quality of yours, young man?” I inquire, playfully poking his side.
“Melani and Cleo came to visit,” Cassio answers for him. “He didn’t give a shit about meeting Leon or Emilio, but he stole their wives for hours. It’s a good thing your hair is currently off your shoulders or he’d have a fistful of it right now.”
I haven’t formally met Leon, Emilio or their wives. They don’t live in the family home with Jade, and they can’t come to visit very often. They all have important roles further away in the Moretti territory, but I’ve heard good things about them still.
I’m sure I’ll meet Leon and Emilio by the end of the day, as they both made sure to carve out time for appearances’ sake. Unfortunately, their wives both have kids to look after and couldn’t join them on such short notice.
Though, perhaps it’s for the best. I’m not sure if the threat to me is over, and I’d never want to put anyone else at risk. I already feel a bit guilty for taking so much of Dante’s generosity.
“You’re a charming young chap, aren’t you?” I ask Cesar, letting him snatch up a few of my fingers. He squeezes hard, demonstrating his grip strength and babbles while examining my hand and nails. “Strong too, have you been lifting weights, little love?”
Cassio chuckles. “More like lifting stuffed animals and trying to throw them across the room. He’s a chaos ball of destruction waiting to happen. We’re lucky he’s not old enough to start walking yet, or we’d probably lose him thirty times a day.”
“A tiny troublemaker, aren’t you?” I coo against the top of his head, breathing in his baby scent.
“Understatement,” Cassio concurs.
“I’m sorry to be taking you from them,” I apologize just loud enough for him to hear. “It must be nice being around them. They seem to adore you.” Isobella is perfectly content in his arms, after all. And even though Cesar isn’t trying to wiggle over to his uncle, he keeps sending him gummy smiles while cuddling me.
“It’s not your fault, Ana,” he replies, stern but soft. “They’ve got plenty of family around, and if I have it my way, we won’t be away for too long.”
The sound of swift revenge is terribly appealing.
“Will you want to live here again, then?” I ask timidly. “After, I mean.”
Cassio nods. “Here or close by. It’s safest, and in our family consiglieres stay by the Capo. We don’t operate our own territory like Leon does as underboss. My job is to advise and strategize with my father and Apollo, and being by their side is the best way to do it.”
He watches me process the information and offers a kind smile. “If you prefer we have our own house, we will. If you’d rather live here, we will.”
My throat bobs with a gulp. “It’s up to me?”
“As your husband, I will always take your opinion and your comfort into consideration, Ana,” he preaches the words like gospel. “Unless there is a safety risk, I’ll do my best to honor your wishes.”
Emotion wells in my chest, and I have to take a breath, holding back tears. His proclamation is so genuine and lovely, and not for the first time, I feel incredibly grateful that Cassio volunteered to marry me.
