Page 143 of My Dark Ever After

In fact, one night only two weeks after our confrontation with Tonio, when I was seated to the root inside her as she rode me in a sinuous, rocking rhythm like the waves rushing to shore at Livorno,she had bent to me and whispered, “I want children with you more than my next breath.”

She was still young, and we had not been together for a full year, but I knew that was in our future, filling this house with even more children to love and cherish as we did Stacci’s and Carlotta’s.

Children.

A concept I had never thought of for myself.

One that I had written in invisible ink on the inside of my heart.

Of course, my Vera could see that and offer it to me, yet another gift I would never be able to repay her for, though I would spend the rest of my life trying.

“Can I speak to you for a moment?”

I was pulled from my contemplation by John standing at the door to my office in a custom tux I had insisted on buying for him for the wedding. He had grumbled, but when Elizabeth had seen him in it and practically cooed her praise, he had actually blushed.

My imminent father-in-law and I had not magically become close over the last month and a half. Guinevere was his treasure, and I was the villain taking her away from her life in Michigan to an Italian life of crime.

But he had softened, almost imperceptibly.

I had caught him with a smile at the edges of his mouth when he watched Guinevere laugh with me, when he saw the way I treated my mother and sisters. He might have wanted to hate me, but I was the choice his daughter had made, and he respected her enough to treat me courteously.

“Certo,” I said, indicating the couch along one wall.

I took the chair across from him and waited.

The wedding would start in half an hour, and I had been relegated to my office when I had arrived this morning from Stacci’s house because I was not allowed to see the bride before the wedding.

“I understand you still haven’t decided what to do with Leo,” John said, surprising me.

We did not try to keep business discussions from John and Elizabeth, just as we did not from my family, but we mostly spoke about outfit affairs in my office. Though it was not exactly hard to discern that I did not know what to do about Leo di Conte.

He had been my best friend all my life only to betray me in order to save the life of the girl he loved. A girl who happened to be the sister of my own beloved.

I could not exactly murder him for his crimes when doing so would hurt Gemma and therefore Guinevere.

When, if I was deeply honest with myself, it would hurt me.

The problem was, I did not trust him with my business anymore, and I did not trust him in my life. He remained on the property—he and Gemma stayed in the guesthouse down the road, near Carlotta’s house, because Guinevere needed her family close—but he was not welcome in my orbit.

Nor was he particularly welcome in Guinevere’s, though she tried to be cordial for Gemma’s sake.

Even though I did not want him near, he also knew too much about my dealings for me to let him go off on his own.

“I think I have a solution,” John continued, scowling at his hands as though they had wronged him.

“I would like to hear it,” I said, leaning back comfortably in the chair so he would know he had the floor.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, then fixed his gaze on mine, dark eyes hard with resolve. “The Pietras are in disarray since you killed Gaetano. My sister’s boys are too young to take over, and there is no clear line of succession. But Gemma is a Pietra, and Leo is a seasoned mafioso with knowledge of the clan.” He did not mention that Leo’s intimate knowledge of the clan came from Tonio’s attempt to onboard the Pietras for his attempted coup. “I am willing to stay for six months to stabilize the family and teach Leo and Gemma the ropes, as it were, before I go back to Michigan.”

My brows rose of their own volition. “This is a surprise from someone who once threatened to cut out his daughter for merely visiting the country. You are now willing to stay and dirty your hands once more? Why?”

John looked out the window as if the answer was written on the windowpane.

“You don’t have children yet, but one day I imagine you’ll understand exactly why I am offering this. I’ve made no bones about the fact I did not want this life for either of my girls, but it is the life they both chose. Gemma is not happy with me and the lies I told that kept her from her heritage. All she wants is a life with Leo, and all Leo knows is this life.” He opened his hands wide. “I thought she wasdead, Raffaele. I mourned her. I organized her funeral. Second chances are so rare, and I have one. If I can help my daughters in any way, I will, even if it goes against my own grain.”

“You would have done what Leo did for Elizabeth,” I concluded, because John Stone might have anglicized his name and put on a suit to make money for other men, but he had been born Mariano Giovanni Pietra and raised as a camorrista.

Any man with a heart like ours would burn down the world for the woman he loved, consequences be damned.