Page 39 of Forgive Me, Father (Don #1)

“Today, we’re gathered to celebrate not just another year, but a remarkable life, my mother’s life. Eighty-two years. It feels almost impossible to capture that kind of time, that kind of strength, in words. But I’ll try, because if anyone deserves the effort, it’s her.”

A couple of soft laughs came from tables around us. Just then, Camilla leaned in, her floral perfume curling around me like a whispered invitation. It hit me all at once—warm, sweet, intoxicating. My pulse quickened.

She didn’t have to touch me to unravel me. Her presence alone could do it.

I just wanted to eat my runaway, and I was stuck at this luncheon.

“Mom,” my father carried on, “you’ve been the anchor of this family for as long as I can remember.

Strong, stubborn, unapologetically so, and full of a kind of quiet grace that only a few truly understand.

You’ve taught me more through your actions than words ever could: how to love without conditions, how to stand your ground, and how to show up for the people you care about, even when it’s hard. ”

Camilla’s hand trailed from my leg to the apex of my thighs and she squeezed my bulge.

I stared at her, but she just chuckled at something that was said.

Not that she understood Italian. Once more, everyone around us did as they wanted and disregarded my wishes.

I was getting tired of the disrespect being paid to my wife.

“I remember the little things—how your hands always smelled like lavender and flour, the way you hummed while cooking, the way you could silence a room with just one look. And I remember the big things, too. How you held this family together during the hardest times. How you never asked for praise, even when you deserved the world.”

I let her play with me for now. My hand cupped her hand, and I showed her how to squeeze me. Her gaze fluttered to me and I smiled. But when I looked at her, I couldn’t stop staring at the way her teeth dented softly into her lower lip.

She was a goddess.

“You are not just a mother. You’re a force of nature, a survivor, and the original backbone of this family.

“And even though I sometimes gave you reasons to worry, or to yell, let’s be honest, you never stopped believing in me. You never gave up on any of us. That belief, that love, shaped me into the man I am today. And for that, I will always be grateful.

“So here’s to you, Mom. For eighty-two extraordinary years. For the life you’ve built. For the love you’ve given. And for the fire that still burns in you, just as strong as ever.

Happy birthday. I love you.” Dad raised his glass. “To Mom.”

Everyone raised their glasses, including the two of us.

Only when the waiting staff placed our plates in front of us did her hand leave my painfully engorged cock. Today was going to be a long day in this chair.

Camilla made polite conversation with Fiona, asking about the past few months, her voice smooth but distant. She wasn’t really listening—I could see it in the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, in the faint disinterest woven through her tone.

They deserved that coolness. They’d treated her like a footnote, like she was just part of some transaction sealed with a ring. But she was so much more than that.

Eventually, they’d see it, see that she wasn’t just important. She was everything.

The food was good, but honestly, nothing compared to the fire sitting beside me.

“Alfonso, calm down,” my sister said. “Your food is not going to run away.”

I flipped her off without missing a beat and kept eating like I hadn’t seen a proper meal in days. My sister just smiled, amused but smart enough not to push further.

The rest of lunch drifted into familiar territory, family chatter, names thrown around, connections drawn and redrawn like an old family map. Thankfully, Paulo stepped in, guiding Camilla through it all so I didn’t have to play tour guide to our tangled bloodlines.

Then Roberto approached, ever the messenger.

“Alfonso,” he said, his tone clipped. “Camilla. When you’re finished, Father would like a word.”

I didn’t even look up. “Give me half an hour.” It was time to get rid of this hard-on.

“He said…”

I cut him off, my tone sharper this time. “Half an hour, Roberto.”

He lifted his hands in surrender and backed off without another word.

Camilla leaned in, her brow furrowed. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” I said quietly. “Get up.”

She didn’t ask again, just rose to her feet, concern tightening her posture.

I slipped off my jacket and draped it over my arm to hide the tent pole in my pants.

I took her hand, firm and fast, and we moved with long, purposeful strides. I didn’t stop to greet anyone. Didn’t nod. Didn’t speak. I pushed straight through the house, the weight of unspoken intent hanging heavy between us.

We climbed the stairs to the first floor in silence.

“Where are we going?” she asked, breathless but curious.

“To fix what you started,” I said, lifting my jacket just enough for her to catch a glimpse, and that wicked smile of hers returned. She thought it was hilarious.

“Laugh all you want,” I muttered in Italian, low and dark.

We reached the first powder room. I yanked the door open, pulled her inside, and shut it behind us with a sharp click of the lock.

She looked around, amused. “Oh, this is quaint. What is this?”

“A fuck room for now.”

More giggles came from her lips as I grabbed her and bent her over the basin. I lifted her dress and unzipped my pants. I moved her panties away from her opening and drove myself into her.

“Not a fucking word,” I ordered her as she stood bent over the basin, a gilded mirror in front of her face. My one hand lifted her hip higher, to take me deeper, and the other tangled up in her hair.

She took my orders extremely well as I fucked her faster.

Her slippery pussy drove me insane as my cock slammed into her.

She grunted and in the mirror, I could see the strain on her face. Her eyebrows furrowed as her lips parted.

I know she wanted to moan.

She bit down on her lip as she breathed harder through her nose.

Her hand was desperate to grab something to hold on to.

My hair fell over my eyes from all the pumping, and I was close.

I could feel it. The ache that was bubbling in my ball sack.

It was going to shoot up my shaft and release inside of her deeply.

She grunted as her pussy contracted, and my sperm pushed up my shaft. I pulled out and emptied myself on the carpet.

I kissed her neck as I zipped up my pants. “Grazie little runaway.”

“Pleasure is all mine.” She spoke out of breath, and I stepped back from her and smacked her tight fucking ass.

Her entire body winced.

“I have got to go. My father wants to see me. Will you be okay with my family?”

“Go, I will manage.”

I winked at her and stepped out, adjusting the collar of my shirt and sliding back into my jacket like armor. I felt like a new man, lighter, sharper, dangerous in the best way.

My father’s office was on the far end of the house, tucked away from the noise and laughter of the party. It took me a few minutes to reach it, each step steady, deliberate. When I arrived, I rapped twice on the heavy door with my knuckles.

“Enter,” came his voice, stern, commanding as always.

I stepped inside to find the old man seated behind his desk, his posture perfect, eyes sharp. Roberto stood by the window, hands behind his back, watching the celebration below like it offended him. My uncle lounged in the chair opposite Father, his expression unreadable.

“Father,” I greeted coolly, pulling out the second chair and sitting down.

The room was heavy with unspoken things. We all wore our marks, our family’s silent badge, just below the eye. Everyone except Roberto and Luca. My youngest brother had always chosen distance over loyalty.

“We need to talk about the attack on the docks,” my father said, skipping any pretense of small talk.

“You already know who it is,” I said flatly, brushing an invisible speck off my pant leg like the conversation bored me. “Not my fault you refuse to listen.”

“I spoke to Frederick,” my father shot back, eyes narrowing into a glare.

I scoffed. “Frederick would slit your throat with a smile if it suited him. It’s Kai Castello. We can take him down, easily.”

His hand slammed against the desk, the sound echoing off the walls like a gunshot. “We are not barbarians , Alfonso. I will not rule the Dons the way my father did. Get that fantasy out of your head.”

I bit back the words that burned on my tongue.

Then be ready to lose everything. But I didn’t say it. I might despise silence, but I know when to hold it.

The room felt colder after that, like the truth had sucked all the warmth out of the air.

My father’s gaze darkened. “This all started because of that thing you had with his sister.”

“That’s complete bullshit and you know it,” I snapped. “Kai’s going to twist whatever he can to justify making a move. This isn’t about some old grudge, it’s about power. He wants a clear path to the top, and he’s using his family name like a wrecking ball.”

My father didn’t flinch. He never did.

“I’ll speak to Frederick,” he said coolly, dismissively. “You can go.”

Just like that. Brushed off. Like I was some reckless kid speaking out of turn. Like my instincts, my experience meant nothing.

I stood, my jaw tight, blood simmering beneath the surface.

They were all fools. Blind, complacent fools.

But I swore on Nonno’s grave, I wouldn’t lose the seat at the head of the Dons because of my father’s pride. Not now. Not ever.