Page 45 of Mafia Star

“I’m certain too.”

“About their conversation?”

“That, and I want that long life with you. I can’t pinpoint what it is about you. We haven’t known each other long, and there are tons about each other we don’t know. Like I don’t know your favorite color or band or movie. But I know that the— I don’t know — I guess —aura you put out draws me like no one ever has. I can tell you’re intelligent, hardworking, loyal, driven by duty, kind, funny, and you make me feel— right.”

She shrugs and shakes her head. She doesn’t know how to articulate it, and neither do I. Having her in my life feels as obvious as saying the sky is blue.

“Have you been arrested before?”

“Yes. More than a couple times. But I haven’t been to prison. Papa is an exceptionally talented attorney, and now Gabe works for him, too.”

I can guess what she’s thinking. That we coerce people. That we tamper with evidence. That we eliminate complications. She isn’t wrong. But she also isn’t getting off my dick, which is staying surprisingly hard considering we aren’t moving.

“What happens if you are arrested in the future?”

“If we’re together, you leave. You get as far away from me as you can. You don’t try to help, Beth. You get to my family as fast as you can. They’ll know what to do. If we aren’t together, they’ll find you and protect you.”

“What about if you get hurt? We’re together— dating, I guess. I’m not family.”

I run my hands up and down her arms. I don’t want to scare her off by moving any faster than we already are.

“I don’t know what you’re going to want in the future. But the moment my family knows we’re together, you become one of us. We don’t date casually. We don’t do flings. Until you, I swore up and down that I would never get involved with someone. It’s selfish as fuck that I am. I didn’t want to suck a woman into the hell hole that is Mafia life. But now that I know you, I can’t let go. I don’t want to. I wouldn’t let you get this close to me if I weren’t truly serious about the long life together. If I get hurt or something worse happens, my family will take care of you and make sure you know what’s happening.”

“Who’ll decide what happens if it’s life threatening or— or unreversible?”

“Piccolina, I have a health directive. Papa made sure everyone has a Power of Attorney that lists every member of the family as having rights to determine care. That way, whoever gets to the hospital first can decide. Wives always have the final say. The moment my family knows we’re together, they’ll know you have the ultimate say.”

“What? I’m not your wife.”

“No. Maybe one day you will be. But you’re the person I’m choosing to make a future with. That carries weight in my family because it’s not a decision made lightly.”

She’s silent for a moment, looking down between us. Our clothes hide where our bodies join, but I know she feels it. This is a fucking intense conversation, but a necessary one. I don’t think it would feel as emotionally connected if we weren’t physically connected.

“My parents have that Power of Attorney for me. I don’t know that they’d agree to you deciding for me without being my husband. I can amend it, and I want to. I didn’t know what was going on today. I still don’t. But you’re who I came to. You’re the one I trust my life to. You were right. I got in a cab. I could have gone anywhere. I still came to you, even though they probably knew this is where I was already headed.”

“There’s one more thing along those lines. I know you’re close to Laura through Chelle. If you absolutely cannot get to my family, go to the Kutsenkos first. Aunt Sylvia has a rule Laura adopted. Any syndicate woman— wife, mother, sister, daughter, girlfriend —can seek shelter with her. No questions asked. The woman is untouchable until her family can get her. It changes nothing among the men, but it’s a truce long enough to get the woman out of danger. I’d like to think the O’Rourkes and Diazes would respect that and offer the same sanctuary, but I just can’t be sure. Not even with your connections to them already.”

“How often does that happen?”

“Not once since Aunt Sylvia joined the family. But it’s a mandate we all obey.”

“If Salvatore is your don, then what does that make Sylvia?”

“La madrina. The Godmother. I know that sounds cliché after the movie, but it’s true. Luca is our underboss as Uncle Salvatore’s heir. But Aunt Sylvia— any of the women in my family —could run things if ever something happened to the men. Don’t doubt the strength of the women in my family. They’re far less forgiving and far more protective than any of the men could ever be.”

“You’re like protective to the nth degree. I can already tell. How could anyone be more?”

“They’re mothers.”

That makes her smile, and it’s like the heavens opened to let the sun through.

“Makes sense. But if you’ve never used the rule, why is it so important to Sylvia? You called it a mandate?”

That’s a painful subject for everyone.

“Not long after Aunt Sylvia moved here to marry Uncle Sal, her younger sister got separated from her guards in Palermo. She was on foot, and men chased her. She passed three families who could have saved her, but she knew they wouldn’t. The men assaulted and murdered her. She was visibly pregnant. Aunt Sylvia refuses to even consider that happening to another woman. God help any man who scares a syndicate woman enough to run to us.”

Aunt Sylvia may be the most elegant woman I have ever seen, but she's made of sterner stuff than most would imagine. She grew up in Sicily, and her father heads her branch there. Cosa Nostra is all she’s ever known. They raised her to one day marry an influential man, and she’s the perfect match for Uncle Salvatore. I know he trusts her with more than he probably should, but he respects her opinions. She’s an attorney trained in France, but she now handles our legal corporate ventures.

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