Page 60 of Finn

“Fuck. I can’t wait until that bastard is six feet under,” she mumbles, turning toward the edge of the bed to get up.

“Have I told you how much I love your taste for violence?” I ask, admiring her perfect ass as she stands from the bed.

“What can I say? I don’t appreciate him disrupting my mornings.” She sends me a small smile before walking into the bathroom.

When my cock stirs, I look down then back to Alessia, who has just turned on the shower.

She catches my gaze in the mirror and must see something in my expression. “Don’t even think about it. If we have to meet the plane in an hour, that’s just enough time for me to shower and get ready, so get that look off your face.”

She closes the door on me. Even though my hope for a quickie has deflated, my damn dick hasn’t gotten the message.

“Sorry, buddy,” I mutter and get off the bed to get the coffee started and pack our bags.

Stepping into the cabin of the plane, there’s a large breakfast spread waiting for us. Thank God, because I am fucking starving. Neither of us has eaten since last night, and we spent the rest of the evening after the fight burning several thousand calories, I’m sure. We have just enough time to eat and enjoy a little peace and quiet before the plane lands, and Enzo and Cillian meet us at the airport.

“Take Alessia home and stay there with her. I’m going with Cillian.”

Enzo nods and puts our bags in the trunk.

“Are you coming home tonight?” Alessia asks when I walk her to her car.

“I’ll try. Cillian and I need to do some digging on Cataldi’s associates. Maybe question a few people.” I wrap her in my arms before she gets in the car. “But if I’m not going to be home before the sun comes up, I’ll make sure to call you.”

She smiles and leans up, standing on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on my lips. “Be safe.”

I shoot her a smile then deepen the kiss before leaning back. “Always am, wife.”

Chapter sixteen

Alessia

Finn did, in fact, come home last night, this time with some new cuts on his knuckles. Most of the time, when a man in this life says he’s going to “question someone,” it means he’ll be coming home with bloodied hands.

I cleaned the wounds and bandaged him up before drawing us a bath. Something I learned about my husband on our little getaway is his desire to live life and enjoy it to the fullest rather than do nothing but work. He allows himself to take time to relax, which surprises me, considering when we were first married, he was hardly home. I know he was getting things settled at the docks in those first few weeks, and it’s not like I was waiting up for him like I do now. But what he said before going to Atlantic City struck a chord with me. We need to steal moments of time to just be us and enjoy life when we can because there will always be something or someone trying to tear that time away from us.

When I was little, my father was gone more than he was home. It never bothered me, I was too young to know any different, but I saw the look in my mother’s eyes after my father was away for a couple days and the phone would ring. She never knew if it was the call that he was on his way or that he was never coming back again.

Then, when Gio died, he was gone even more. I was nineteen when it happened, and it was right after being beaten by Orlando and losing the pregnancy. I’ll never forget the wail that fell from my mother’s lips when my father told her Gio was dead. It was as though her soul was shattering right before our eyes. She lay in bed for weeks, completely inconsolable. My father was gone all of the time, leaving us to grieve on our own.

Finally, when he came home one night, she was up and waiting for him in the library. I was in the kitchen getting a glass of water when I heard her laying into him, telling him he needed to realize he had a daughter and a wife who needed him here. She’d let it slide when we were younger, but that was over. If he didn’t start coming home every night and being with his family so we could heal from our loss together, then she was leaving. I doubt she actually would have, though. She loved him too much—not to mention the church and just about everyone in our life frowns upon divorce.

When I silently crept to peek into the library, I saw my parents embracing, tears falling from both of their eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lilliana. I don’t know how to handle this. He’s our son and he’s not coming home. I-I—”

“Shh. I know. But you have a daughter who needs you and a wife who is falling apart without you. We need you here, Mario.”

I went back up to my room, feeling like I was prying on a private moment between my parents. I cried myself to sleep that night like I had done every night since Gio was killed. But when I woke the next morning, my father was still home, and he never spent another night out of the house.

Of course, that meant his men came to our home much more frequently, but by that point, I was on my way back to college. Every night when I’d call my mother to check in in the months following Gio’s death, I would hear my father’s voice in the background, and as the weeks wore on, we all eventually found a new routine.

From that night in the library forward, my father was a changed man. His priority became my mother and me, even offering me a job in one of his real estate development companies when I graduated with my MBA. Of course, it was mostly a front for moving his money around from other less-than-legal gains, but he wanted to keep me close and give me purpose. And I wanted to make him proud. I knew I was never going to be allowed to rise to the top like Gio would have, but I was a part of this family. My father made sure I knew how much he appreciated my dedication and having someone in my position whom he shared unwavering trust with. Not exactly easy to come by.

I shake myself from my thoughts and look at my husband with a glass of whiskey in one hand and his head tilted back.

“Can I help?” I ask, relaxing on the opposite side of the large bathtub as I run a comforting hand along Finn’s leg under the water.

Finn’s gaze travels to mine, and he smiles. “This shit with not knowing what Cataldi is doing or where he’s hiding is fucking with me. Being here with you and having you take care of me is helping, though.”

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