Page 15 of Fragile Union

"It doesn't bother me. I'm used to being alone. I mean Da was busy with work and the kids were at school or the nanny had them. Ma, well, she was off doing whoever she liked. I'm not real comfortable around a lot of people, I'm more of an introvert." she gives me a smile, one that has my cock stirring again. "But ultimately, if we were to move, Alessio wouldn't annoy me or you, Makenna and Dante will have to call on someone else to sort their shit out." I raise my brow at her words. She doesn't care though, she merely shrugs, "I love Kenna, but since we married, you've done everything for them both, and that's not fair to you. You'd never complain because that's not you. However, you have men who need your time, and Rome, you can't keep dividing your time between the four of us."

"What you're saying is that if we move, I'll have more time for you?" I can't keep the bite out of my tone, I thought she knew this. I thought she fucking understood.

She narrows her eyes at me, but I'm not finished.

"When did you begin to think you mattered enough to me to give you that much time?"

She clenches her jaw. "You're right. You never did." Her lips twist into a scowl. "Decide what you want to do and when you have, let me know." She reaches behind her and switches off the shower.

I watch on with a clenched jaw as she grabs a towel and wraps it around her body. Her eyes void of emotion and she's not once glanced at me. Any progress we made in the past two weeks, I've just fucking killed.

Fuck.

When she walks out of the bathroom, I turn the shower back on. I can't help but wonder what this means for us now.

Twenty minutes later and she's fully dressed. "I've got to go," she tells me as I pull on my shirt. "I'll see you later."

"What time will you be home?" I have no fucking idea why the hell I'm asking her that.

She merely shrugs. "I don't know, I'm not sure how long this will last. Have dinner without me. I'm sure your brothers would love to catch up." She glances at her cell phone. "I've got to go, bye." She walks out of the door and doesn't look back.

* * *

"Tell me,"I say menacingly. Pissed the fuck off that these assholes are still being fucking childish and thinking they can get me to leave. "Why are you still playing these games? I am not a man to be trifled with. I'm not going fucking anywhere. My wife is one of you and therefore, I am family. I will protect you if you show loyalty and I have no fucking qualms in taking you out if you don't. Now, does anyone have anything to fucking say?"

The men stand taller, each time we have a meeting I see the respect start to grow, I don't have as many naysayers as I did at the beginning, I'm proving myself to them. I'm out on the streets with them, I'm not hiding behind the status of Underboss, that's just not who I am; it wasn't ingrained in me. I'm a man who needs to be in the thick of it, to be in the action.

"The next time we have a meeting and someone, any fucking one shows disrespect, it'll be the last thing you do. Do I make myself clear?" I say loud enough to be heard. I have almost thirty men working for me and the number is growing. The younger generation who wasn't sure about my predecessor are suddenly interested, they know me from my reputation alone and they want that, they want to work with a man who can kill without breaking a sweat or batting an eyelid.

Fuck. Killing doesn't affect me at all. My mom told me that it was because I'm broken, that my father's evil had seeped into me and broke me until I became a monster. Her words struck a chord with me since I was seven and she saw me with the knife and gun, bloodied, with dead men at my feet.

I never understood why she was crying, never could figure out why me killing two men who had broken into our home trying to kill her to get at my father was such a bad thing. I thought I had done the right thing, but as I grew up and I listened to the rest of the made men as they recanted their first kills and how they felt, I realized my mom was right. I'm more like my father than I care to admit.

"Boss," Jason says as I exit the warehouse. "We've got a problem," he begins.

Of fucking course we have a problem, I'm a motherfucking Italian who's the Underboss of the Irish mafia. We've always had a problem.

"Anderson's on his way to the hospital, took two to the chest from a drive by."

Fuck. Anderson is one of the loyal men, he's loyal to the family and therefore he supports me as I'm married to the great-granddaughter of the original Clann leader.

"Who?" I ask, my voice vibrating with anger.

"I have Layton checking the security feeds around the store at the time of the shooting."

"Where did it happen?"

"Granny Jones's." His teeth clenched as are his fists. Granny Jones is a restaurant owned by the Irish Mafia, it's a front to run the money through. It's in New York City and I'm curious as to why Anderson was there and not here where he was due to be. Especially as I had called a meeting.

"Who else was there? Any of the other men injured?"

He glances away and I wait, knowing he hasn't told me everything. "No boss, none of the other men were injured. Your wife was present at the time of the shooting. She wasn't shot, boss, but she was close to where the bullets were."

I don't even listen to anything else he's saying, my feet are pushing me toward my fucking car.

I've made my fucking mind up. We're moving. I have two fucking hours to drive before I can get to her. No more. Where I go, she goes. She fucking said it. We're moving and that's that.

Five

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