Page 2 of Mafia Boss's Fake Wife

Except for now, when she’s bouncing their son in her lap, her laughter is clear and brazen in the winter air.

Seeing everyone together is… good. It’s everything I’ve hoped for. Everything I’ve worked for in the past decade.

It’s so different from the De Luca get-togethers when I was a kid. Those felt… hard. Edgy in a way that I don’t care to repeat. I’m the oldest sibling, so I remember how tense our family used to be.

How quickly it all fell apart when my grandfather and uncles were sent to jail.

I knew, the second my father told me that I would become the head of the family, that I wouldn’t do anything to risk my siblings.

Ever.

In fact, I would dedicate my life to making them happy. The world that we operate in has so little joy, I swore then that I would never take that joy away from my siblings.

I would cultivate it instead.

I told myself that it would all be worth it. That seeing them be happy would be enough, and that I could just fucking suck it up and soak in their joy. That it would be enough for me.

There is joy. It's echoed around me in the joyful shrieks of children and the low hum of conversation. I see it when Sal gives Gia a kiss on the forehead, or when Dino's eyes soften, ever so slightly, when he watches Marisol dance with the girls.

There's plenty of joy.

It just doesn't reach me.

I’m… somewhere else. Distant.

The joy that they feel?

I get none of it.

"If your face gets any more sour, you're going to spoil the wine," Elio mutters behind me.

I roll my eyes. "Fuck off."

"You're lucky Caterina didn't catch you swearing in front of the children," he chides.

I roll my eyes again at that, but move slightly so that I'm following Elio back into the kitchen and in from the cold. My little sister, Elio’s wife, is the epitome of kindness. Until, of course, you do something to upset her.

Then, she can raise hell with the best of them, and I have no doubt that Caterina would give me the worst of it if she found out I did, in fact, swear in front of the children.

Inside, I give his apron a meaningful look. "You should wear this to the next business meeting with the Russians. I think it would really put them in their place."

"Fuck you," he says, but there's no fire in the words. Instead, my friend's eyes twinkle with a kind of satisfaction that makes my chest hurt. "You're just jealous that you did not receive such a gift."

"Well I wouldn't, now would I?" I say under my breath.

Elio glances down at where the words "Best Dad Ever" are printed on the canvas. It's a masculine enough looking thing, but the bedazzled words have Caterina and Luna's trademark flair.

Elio's face softens. "I would wear it in front of them with pride,my friend."

The fucking bitterness expands, until it feels like it's pulsing at the edges of my chest. I don't respond to Elio, instead opting to refill my cup.

"Marco," Elio says.

I turn.

His head is tilted sideways, and he studies me. "What?" he asks.

"What do you mean, what?"

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