Page 34 of Savage Empire

“Yes,” he replies, gulping as he tries not to stutter. His hand meets mine in a firm, quick shake. “Thank you for having me in your home, sir.”

“Please, call me Dante,” I insist, dropping his hand. “All of my son’s friends do.”

“Not Colton,” Elio jokes, sitting down to my left while reaching for a croissant. “Though, with as much time as the cowboy spends here, he’s more like a son than a son’s friend.”

“His father would not be pleased to hear that,” I reply mildly, trying not to smile. The young man who has called me “Father Dante” since childhood is quite close to being family, but he does have his own Dad.

I’m not sure that Levi Wyatt would even appreciate knowing that Colton has kept his childhood nickname for me. Though it’s a reference to him once mistaking me for a priest, the man is touchy about his boys being close with our family. Hearing his heir call me father in any sense of the word would likely set the hot head off.

“Here you are, dears,” Martha says sweetly, dropping three cups of coffee onto the table. “Sit, sit,” she adds, ushering Yordan into the open seat across from me. Apollo has already taken his chair to my right, and he accepts his coffee, dropping a cube of sugar into the small cup.

“Thank you,” Yordan tells her, looking down at his dark roast.

He’s so clearly overwhelmed by this situation, whether it’s from Martha’s abrupt kindness or my presence, I’m not sure.

“Help yourself to cream or sugar,” she tells him, motioning to the spread in front of him. “I’ll just be cleaning up in the kitchen, you call me over if these boys are giving you any trouble, hmm?”

His eyes widen, shooting over toward me. He just watched a little old woman call the leader of one of the most fearsome mafiasa boy.Given what I know about his family history,he likely expects me to be enraged. But the Morettis don’t lash out at women for such minuscule things.

With men, disrespect is to be reprimanded, of course. Had one of my men called me a boy, I’d probably remove his tongue. And though women are not entirely free of punishment for any crime simply because they are women, my family has a notorious leniency for the fairer sex.

None of my sons would lay a hand on a woman for words that come from her mouth. Violent, conniving traitors that threaten our family on the other hand…there is no mercy to be spared for them—regardless of gender.

Regardless of our traditional dynamic, Martha would never be chastised for speaking to me in a casual manner. I hope to make that obvious to Yordan. Our home is just that, a home. We have to be able to relax, even while minding the power dynamics woven into our way of life.

I chuckle quietly. “We’ll be on our best behaviors.”

Yordan lets out a breath at my response, and I confirm my suspicions. Either his sister’s previous husband, or his own father, would have never tolerated what he just witnessed. It makes me wonder how many despicable things he’s had to observe over the years.

As she leaves us to it, I watch Yordan hesitantly pour a bit of cream and sugar into his coffee. He stirs the liquid so carefully,the spoon never touching the ceramic mug, like he’s terrified to make a sound.

“Damyan’s son, aren’t you?” I ask, casually taking a sip of my drink.

Apollo has already confirmed Yordan and Rayna’s origins, but from what I know, he hasn’t spoken directly to either of them about it.

Yordan freezes, looking up at me in a panic. “Technically, yes.” His eyes dart to Apollo, looking for some kind of reassurance. They seem to share a silent word, before the teen continues. “My sister raised me, mostly. I promise, I’m nothing like him.”

I nod approvingly. “You don’t need to tell me that, I can see it for myself. Damyan would have never stepped foot into my home unarmed nor would he ever be invited.”

He perks up a little, looking interested. “How do you know I’m unarmed? Apollo gave me a gun.”

“Your shirt is untucked, but it’s not loose enough to hide any printing, and your pant legs aren’t wide enough to hide an ankle holster, which you would need to buy since Apollo was carrying on his hip at the wedding,” I explain, happy to satiate his curiosity.

“You’re also not carrying a knife,” I add, nodding to his frame. “You’re not wearing a belt, your pockets are empty, save for your phone, and you’re wearing sports shoes, therefore you don’t have one attached to your boots. So, unless you’ve duct taped one to your stomach, which would likely result in you shifting from the itching…”

“Wow,” Yordan blurts, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “You got all that just from my clothes? I told Apollo I should have worn a suit.”

Elio chuckles, shooting his brother a look. “He told you.”

“Do something useful with your mouth and eat your breakfast.”

My lips twitch, curling on one side. These kids, they’ll be teasing each other like schoolyard children until they’re eighty.

“Are you happy with your housing, Yordan?” I ask, taking the attention away from my bickering sons.

“It’s great, thank you,” he agrees eagerly. “I know Apollo did this for us, but thank you for welcoming me and my sister into your territory. If you didn’t, I think I would probably be rotting in the Chicago River right now.”

“For killing Federico?”