Page 81 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
Costello makes a low sound behind us, a rustle of tension in his muscles.
I glance back at him, and something in his stillness reminds me of my father’s temper—controlled, dangerous, never soft even when still.
"I want them to have this," I say. "Not as a performance. Not just because their last name gives them privilege."
The wind picks up. Somewhere in the trees, a dove calls out, lonely and low.
I step into the paddock finally, lifting Arietta from the saddle and spinning her until she laughs so hard she hiccups.
Alessia protests until I lift her too, quieter, clinging tighter.
When I look up, Gianna is watching us as if she is holding the image in her mind.
The peace lasts until the next afternoon, when I'm summoned by the oldest Salvatore.
I find them both in the west study.
Marco leans against the fireplace mantle, flipping through one of the ledgers I’m fairly certain is just for show.
Luca stands behind the desk, his arms crossed, the light from the stained-glass window throwing fractured color across his collar.
I shut the door behind me, taking the seat they left conspicuously vacant.
"Congratulations," Marco says without looking up. "You looked almost respectable on your wedding day."
I say nothing.
Luca’s the one who matters in this room.
He watches me, his expression unreadable.
"You’re a married man now."
"I was there. I remember."
Luca’s mouth does not twitch, but Marco snorts.
Luca continues.
"You are no longer just a Salvatore. You are husband to a Rossi. And whether either of you like it or not, that makes your daughters part of the house as well. You don't get to exist at the edge anymore. No more ghosting from clubs to contacts and pretending your name shields you from the cost of your choices. You are one of us. Fully. Now."
His voice does not rise, but I feel then strike clean anyway.
I lean back. "I never pretended."
Luca cuts me off.
"You did. You’re not going to anymore. This marriage was not just to patch your mistakes. It was a strategic decision. And you are going to make sure it pays off. Publicly. Politically. Personally. If the name Salvatore is going to continue holding what we have built, then every son of this house needs to carry his share."
Marco finally closes the book.
"Which means no more brothels. No more disappearing to Marrakesh. No more cleaning up bodies that no one ordered you to drop."
I meet Luca’s gaze.
"And what do I get in return?"
"Gianna. Your daughters. A position. A future."
