Page 6 of Till Death Do Us Part

Dario inhaled. “Mia, you’re only twenty-nine. You’re childless.”

“I’ve been to every doctor. It was Rocco, not me.” As soon as the words left my lips, I regretted saying them, especially to the man who now controlled my future. “Dario, please don’t marry me off to some soldier. I’ve done as Father wanted. For ten years.” My volume rose. “Ten years. I’ve paid the price of my heritage. Let me live.”

He looked around my living room with judgment in his gaze. This townhouse was nothing close to the grandeur of his apartment or even Dante’s. Our living arrangements were meant to reflect Rocco’s standing. In other words, we lived as soldiers did. Our status was only elevated by association.

“After the funeral, you will move back into the mansion with Mom.”

The mansion up in the Ozarks and away from Kansas City. That was also away from my friends and family.

“I can live on my own.”

Dante shook his head. “Not in this shitty place.”

“You’re still a Luciano.” Dario said. “You deserve better. And as a single woman, you need to be protected. The mansion is best.”

Protected.

That was code for controlled.

Dario lifted his hand, silencing any attempt at a response. “Tell me, sister, do you support me as capo?”

It was a trick question. If I said yes, I was subjecting myself to Dario’s rule. If I said no, I was committing myself to go the way of Rocco and Father. Dario was basically asking if I wanted to live. I suspected I wasn’t the only member of the famiglia to be asked this question.

I nodded and stood straighter. “Capo dei Capi.” I bowed my head before looking up at his accepting gaze.

I’d choose life.

And after my mourning period, I would finally get to live.

Five monthslater~

Steppingonto my balcony in the cool winter air, I wrapped my robe tightly around me. The cement chilled my bare feet, making my flesh pebble with goose bumps. In the silence of the early morning, I took in the view. Each day was better than the last. Winter was about to give way to spring. Redbud trees were bringing a hint of color to the leafless gray ones. In another month, in every direction, flowering trees would be popping with blooms, blanketing the mountains in a rainbow of hues. This was my fifth month living with my mother. To be honest, her home was large enough to go days without seeing one another. However, her wish was that we spend each evening dining together.

It wasn’t too much to ask, and I appreciated that after the first few weeks, she’d lessened her requirements for formal attire. There was no reason to dress up. As two women in mourning, our visitors were few. Dario’s guards made sure of that.

We also weren’t privy to all the famiglia news, yet I had my secret source: Giorgia. Antonio, her husband, swore his loyalty to Dario and the famiglia. He would have done the same to Father and Tommaso if they had prevailed. That didn’t mean that Giorgia’s husband was a threat to Dario’s new organization.

In my opinion it meant that like many of the other soldiers, he lacked the fortitude to rule. The soldiers were dangerous and deadly while also followers and subordinates. They didn’t have the brutal leadership qualities Father and Dario shared. If I were to be honest with myself, Rocco had also been without those qualities. When it came to the famiglia, Rocco learned from his father. Tommaso was ruthless to the world. Yet in the privacy of my father’s company, he never failed to grovel. Father liked that about him and others.

Dario didn’t.

Tommaso saved his own life with his pledge of loyalty, yet he couldn’t retain his status. Dante was now Dario’s confidant—his consigliere. I had to give my brothers credit—both of them. Through Giorgia’s updates, it sounded as if the alliance with the Roríguez cartel was working. Not only did the Luciano famiglia have more quantity and quality product, but the allegiance also gave our famiglia the resources to slow the bratva’s efforts to infiltrate our territory.

My mourning would be over in another month, the acceptable amount of time for a childless widow. As the capo’s wife, Mother’s would last longer—an entire year of wearing black.

That was the extent of her bereavement—a black wardrobe.

In the privacy of her home, we’d worked to move on with our lives. The sad reality was that neither of us were exactly brokenhearted. We were also sheltered in the middle of nowhere. That didn’t mean I didn’t have plans.

I did.

I’d looked into attending college. Yes, I was older than many of the freshman students, yet my plans weren’t for socialization but for education. Dario’s wife had a degree. There was no reason to deny me one.

Mom’s biggest ire was that Father’s whore, as Mom referred to Alesia, was still living in Father’s luxury Kansas City apartment with the protection of the famiglia. She even had the audacity to attend Father’s funeral, wearing black.

Despite Mom’s rants, Dario refused to budge on his decision. He’d given Alesia his word, and he wasn’t going to falter. After a life of submission to her husband, Mom faced the reality that she was now under her son’s rule.

Wearing my robe, I made my way down to the dining room. Breakfast didn’t have mandatory attendance like dinner. Nevertheless, I was growing accustomed to a bit of conversation with my morning coffee.

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