Page 82 of The Deal

“I flushed it down the toilet,” I lie smoothly.

“Damn it,” he mutters, looking disappointed. “I wanted to see it.”

“Who taught you how to say ‘damn it’?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs. “I hear Chloe say it all the time.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he replies.

“Miss Pottymouth strikes again,” I mumble as the three of us make our way back to my bedroom. I discreetly grab a hand full of her arse cheek and squeeze as I whisper into her ear. “3 am, this arse is mine.”

She glances over her shoulder and beams. “I look forward to it.”

This woman.

Chloe climbs into bed first, and I lift Giovanni up next.

Before sliding in behind him, I quickly set the alarm on my phone to 3 am, like I promised.

I still don’t have any missed calls or messages from my brother, which I’m in two minds about. What is glaringly obvious, though, is that I’ve had no word from Sophia either. Not once has she bothered to check in to see how her son is. It’s been almost two weeks. Does she even miss him?

I set my phone on the bedside table and lie down. “Good night, Son,” I murmur, leaning in to place a soft kiss on the back of his head.

“Night, Daddy. Night, Chlo.”

“Night, little man,” she replies.

I reach across him to slide my arm around Chloe’s waist, only to feel his hand already resting on her hip. The little punk is clearly encroaching on my territory.

“I wish you were my mummy,” he whispers.

Fuck.

I wish that too, kid.

Chapter 27

Alexander

For a brief moment, I forget about all the chaos and uncertainty happening outside these four walls. It’s Christmas Eve, and Chloe is in the kitchen baking cookies with my son while I’m tucked away in the bedroom wrapping presents.

It’s not something I’ve ever done in my adult life. Carmella always took care of that stuff for me, and though it’s not my idea of fun, I’m not exactly hating it. I’m looking forward to seeing Chloe’s reaction when she opens a particular gift I just wrapped for her.

These past two weeks, as stressful as they’ve been at times, have changed me. For the first time since my mother passed, I actually feel like I’m part of a family again.

I don’t want this time with Chloe and Giovanni to end, but it’s what lies ahead that scares me most. The uncertainty gets heavier with every passing day. We may be living in the calm before the storm, but it’s the storm itself that I fear. In my gut, I know we haven’t heard the last of the Mortellis.

It feels like we’re being lulled into a false sense of security, but I know better. I just hope Papa isn’t getting complacentwith their silence. The moment we let our guard down, they’ll strike, taking advantage of our weaknesses. I should reach out to him. I don’t want them to take any unnecessary chances.

“Alessandro,” he says as soon as he answers the call. “Is everything okay, Son?”

“Yes, everything is fine here. I’m just checking in … things have been quiet, so I’m a little concerned.”

“You’re worrying unnecessarily,” he says, and like I was fearing, he’s being way too complacent.

“You know as well as I do that the Mortellis don’t fuck around. You killed their leader; there’s bound to be retribution … a lot more than Rocco dumped at your front gate.”

---