Page 8 of Reign of Commotion

“My wife has a soft heart.She’s too good, too kind, and too forgiving.She’ll greet you with open arms,” Alessio says.“Let me be perfectly clear.You fuck this up, and I’ll end you.The only reason I let this happen is because you saved Julian.He means something to me.I don’t say that about many people, but he’s proven himself time and time again.Julian believes in you.Don’t screw this up.”He turns to face the front, telling me that our conversation is over.

* * *

Julian

When the plane lands, Alessio and Niccolo get into one vehicle and are whisked off immediately.My parents are waiting for us, but it takes me longer to get down the steps of the plane.Milana has an arm around my waist to give extra support, and two other soldiers are waiting at the base of the plane to gather our things.

Fausto sees Milana and me and hurries to give us a hand.He meets us halfway up the steps.“I got him.You go in front of us,” Fausto says.Then he gives her a warm grin.“By the way, I’m the smarter, more handsome, younger brother.”Milana returns his smile.

“Stop flirting with my fiancée, asshole,” I tease.“Smarter.Don’t make me fucking laugh.It hurts like fuck to laugh.”

“I wish I had been with you.I wanted a piece of them,” Fausto grumbles.“I should have been there.”

“Niccolo made them pay.I hear it was a bloodbath, and Niccolo came back covered in spilled Russian blood.It was Milana who got word to us where they were hiding,” Julian tells him.

”Right on!It’s good you’re on our side,” Fausto jokes.

When we get to the bottom, I can see my father struggling to keep my mother in the car.It’s a battle he loses as Mom barrels out of the back seat and comes racing toward us.Mom doesn’t look her age, and although she’s nearing sixty, she still has a youthful appearance.Mom has shoulder-length dark hair and dark brown eyes.That’s where I get mine.She’s tall, but compared to the men in the family, petite and curvy and dresses to impress.She’s wearing designer jeans and a crisp white shirt, her chunky necklace and bracelet jingling as she runs in her platform heels.

I may have Mom’s coloring, but I have my father’s physical structure.Dad still works out hard and is as sharp as they come.His hair and eyes are lighter, but I got my height and bone structure from his side of the family.Dad waits by the car and watches his wife race to us, raising his eyes to the heavens.He acts like it bugs him, and Dad isn’t much for public displays of affection, but I know he loves my mother.It wasn’t an instant love connection.They were matched by their parents, but through the years, they’ve become inseparable.They raised three boys and a girl and together and built a good life.When my older brother, Joe Jr., was killed, our family was devastated.My father carried on, but was broken on the inside.My mother went into a deep depression, and I think it was Dad’s love that brought her back to us.

Mom approaches me first, cupping my cheeks with her hands.“My boy, what have they done to you?”She smooths a hand over the healing cuts on my face.

“I’m fine, Ma,” I say gently.I reach out and take Milana’s hand.“This is Milana.”I haven’t spoken to my mother directly about how Milana came to become my fiancée, but I’m sure Dad’s told her.

I can feel Milana’s hand trembling in mine as my mother turns to face her.“Hello, Mrs.Fontana.It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Milana says, her voice shaky.

Mom takes the hand Milana is holding out and holds it gently.“My husband tells me that if it weren’t for your bravery, my Julian would not have come home to me.Thank you, my girl.”Milana sucks in a breath, choking back tears.“This must all be very overwhelming for you.Come,” my mother says as she guides Milana to the car.“Let’s get you settled at home, and we can get to know each other.”

“That went well,” Fausto says.“Dad told Mom and me everything.I don’t give a shit what her father did.All I care about is what happens moving forward.”

“Thanks.I hope Dad feels the same.”I sigh, meeting my father’s gaze, which gives away nothing.It’s always been a mystery to me how Dad can keep the same aloof expression on his face during the most aggravating times.He seemed to understand when I explained what went down with Milana and why I offered marriage, but I’m sure he had different plans for me.I just hope he’s not too disappointed in my decision.

I finally make it to the car.“Dad.”I look into his face.He pulls me in for a tight, manly embrace, being careful not to crush me, and I hear his low, deep voice by my ear.

“Good to have you home, son,” he says.

* * *

Two days later…

As I wait for Milana to come downstairs, I reflect on the last couple of days.Milana has settled into the guest room, and the first thing Mom did was take her shopping along with Valentina.Mom knows what’s expected of an underboss’s wife, and dressing and acting the part is essential.When they came back from a day of extensive retail therapy, Mom looked over-the-moon happy, while Milana looked miserable.

Dad insists on having me picked up every day and brought to his place until I’m fully recovered.Therefore, when I saw Milana looking so disheartened, I pulled her aside.

“What’s wrong?”I asked her.I’ve never been one to beat around the bush.I just don’t have time for it.

It seems that Milana has the same idea.She expressed her apprehension immediately.“I don’t have the money to pay for all this.Your mom shouldn’t be buying my clothes.And tomorrow, she wants to go wedding dress shopping.How am I going to pay her back?I can’t get a job.I know you won’t let me, and she won’t let me clean the house to work it off, because I asked.She was horrified, by the way, when I did ask.”

“That’s it?You’re worried about who’s paying for what?”I asked incredulously.

“It’s a big deal,” she insisted.

“I’ll pay for the clothes and anything else you need.You can clean my house starting the day we’re married.And you’re right, you can’t get a job.I’m not in a position where I can afford to have a man standing by your side while you work.Once you get settled, if you want to volunteer somewhere a couple of days a week, I’ll make arrangements,” I told her.

“I–I can go out?”

“You’re not a prisoner.You’ll be my wife.I expect you to act and behave accordingly.That doesn’t mean I won’t be watching, and I’ve already stressed what will happen if you cross me.Just don’t make me regret my decision.”

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