Chapter 83

Greed for yourself.

Greed caused hatred, and greed was the ink of a rotting heart.

Franco Zanetti was splattered black by it, therefore decaying his own line. His legacy.

I would break that cycle, creating a legacy he would never be able to lay his eyes on.

I offered Alessandra a stir of a smile, knowing I would end it with us. The future Lombardi line wouldn't suffer at the hands of such wasted air and space of earth. There would be a time when our children would only be descendants of Mafia royalty, and their only lessons would be the cruelty of our underworld and nothing more.

We would be alive to guide and teach the ways of our life.

Because this life of ours was nothing more than a game of chess.

Calculating. Ruthless.

Some pieces fell and some were taken out. But, in the end, it was all a corrupted game. A game where the king and the peasants were ruled by one queen.

Dinner stretched into long and uncomfortable minutes, bursting taste buds that filled our mouths with rich foods, and surface conversations that no one carried further. Minutes passed by of Dante's gaze fixed on his one failure-Davina.

She hadn't cast one look. Not one care. I hid my smile, watching as the little raven-haired girl crumbled with time but remained aloof on the exterior.

But I could see it, and so could Vadim. His right hand hadn't appeared above the table at all. Surely, a heated weight he had placed on her thigh. While Davina wouldn't so much dare a gaze before her, Vadim had.

Dante and Vadim were playing a secret war, surprising not only me but Alessandra too as Dante sat peacefully in his chair.

Alessandra's attention bounced from one head to the other, calm and yet careful to the rising tension as we chewed through our loss of appetite and silence because if we continued to take small bites, the less we had to speak.

I had nothing to say, and instead of playing with my food anymore, I sipped the glass Thalia had refilled. I swirled my tongue into the bitter flavor of my favorite aged bourbon.

The last course had been served, and all plates were smeared with uneaten cherry-chocolate cake. I cut my cake once with my spoon, but it never entered my mouth.

I had never been a fan of sweets.

Until her.

The lone cherry tempted my gaze, and I plucked it from the swirling syrup it lay on. I popped it into my mouth, and with the leftover liquor taste, a faint taste of Alessandra lingered in my mouth. But I was missing something.

Her skin.

Her mouth.

Her lips.

So it couldn't compare to the suffocating pleasure she brought along with that addictive taste.

Alessandra's eyes fled to mine after she found the cherry she wanted to steal from my plate missing. Her eyes narrowed to my mouth as I played with the seed with my tongue.

Her throat jumped with realization. Her lips curled on the corner, and her fingers danced closer to the hand that nurtured my bourbon.

I followed the dance of her fingertips around the rim. I watched them pick the glass from my grasp and her lips connected to the brim mine once were. Now both of our lips left an imprint on the glass as she brought the drink back to the table, in front of her and away from my reach.

That little menace.

Our tug of war was interrupted as Aldo broke the silence.

"Still planning the wedding outside?"

At that same moment, thunder crashed, shaking the house and clattering the windows and flower bases into a prance.

Alessandra turned to her brother, who sat on her left with a shrug.

"If the rain stops long enough for the ceremony."

"I'm sure you have a backup plan. I can't imagine you wing-ing such a special day."

Alessandra pushed her hair off her shoulders, quietly contemplating her next words.

If only he knew how little Alessandra had done for our union. How little she cared about the details. How much she tried to hide the looming day.

If it hadn't been for my questions, it would've all been a vision from Mrs. Carmine and Thalia.

Alessandra's fingertips twitched on her shoulder as her elbow rested on the table. She had no idea what to say or what the plan would be, and she grew insecure under the eyes that latched on to her.

Aldo's eyes sparked, and so did his brother's. A smile spread across both of their faces as they watched her tongue-tied.

"It's okay, Alessandra. It isn't a secret for them." I saved her from scrutiny. "If the sky doesn't clear, we will move to the church, then leave for the reception." And I added for her, "I met the priest after we spoke today, so it shouldn't be a problem. You don't have to stress over the rain."

Alessandra's hair swung with tinkling wide eyes. Her teeth trapped her bottom lip, but she couldn't hide her smile. "Thank you," it said.

"An outside wedding in humid air and Miami's heat. Sounds like torture under a full suit," Dante said in the back.

"I couldn't help but assure you of your discomfort, Fratello. Really, all I thought of was you on my day." Sarcasm was thick on her tongue.

"Don't mind him." Aldo cut his brother a look that Elio and I caught, and we shared a look of our own. "We are happy to help tomorrow with any preparations if needed."

"Thank you," Alessandra and I echoed together.

At some point, the animosity changed from bitter to a sharp tang of mutual agreement. The conversations passed on from the weather to even fucking cheese and wines that paired best with them. The dinner was a mockery of two families trying. Trying so desperately to behave and balance our inner monsters as we stooped down to twit discussions. All for the name of peace.

We would never like each other, of that we all agreed.

By the time we were all done with the ridicule of unsaid emotions and true thoughts, I craved nicotine.

Vadim and Davina were both eager to leave. As I stood to excuse myself outside, they slipped away from the boiling chaos. They said their goodbyes without too much fuss, and I walked outside the back door with Aldo on one side and Elio trailing us close behind.

The rain poured and cascaded off the hanging shelter of the roof we stood under. The smell of wet grass mixed with muck and the thunder hid any words we uttered into the storm.

From where I stood, I could see the bulb that lit over the deep corner of my property. Leonardo's house was far and yet close to my reach. The lone light that hung next to the front porch reminded me that inside that house, life still flickered. And on the opposite side, I could see Alessandra through the window talking to Dante while Nate stood nearby. He would nod here and there to her as if she was asking for his point and needing his speech to mingle with hers.

"It seems I've misplaced my light," Aldo muttered with a hanging cigarette between his lips, tapping his hand over his pants pocket and reaching back to his suit coat.

I fished for my metal lighter and ran my thumb over the engraved Lombardi crest before offering it to him.

The gears worked under his thumb, and fire bloomed. He handed it back, and I lit my own rolled tobacco, watching how the first long inhale ate away the tip. I closed my eyes briefly, and as I exhaled.

"Will your father cause trouble tomorrow?"

Dark eyes and a dark heart replied, "No."

"You sound too sure when it is not your own actions that I am questioning."

His index finger and thumb pinched the end of the bud, and he blew out to the side before turning to face me. As he replied, I noticed the small scar hidden beneath his short beard by the corner of his jaw.

"You are right. But I know he can't. That should count for something."

Something. I huffed.

"Now tell me, Aldo, I know where I stand with your father. Will that be the same with you as a boss?"

Elio kept quiet behind me. His hips swayed at a snail's pace with crossed arms as he listened to every word and promise two families would share.

I hadn't taken another hit. The amber burned brightly while I waited for Aldo to speak. Because his next words would change the course and shift the future.

"Alessandra is allowed to feel the way she does about me. She can craft and believe me to be someone who didn't care for her and continues not to. The truth is, I never had much power to change her fate. Her duty." He looked inside, watching her as he continued, "Don't get me wrong, you are no better man than Giuliani or me. But I knew she at least had a chance of not suffering the old ways of a mafioso."

"What do you mean?"

"You were the greater evil in my eyes. Closer to her age than any boss. A cold-hearted bastard that would at least control his iron hand even if her mouth often sought one." He chuckled. "By me looking out for her future, I saw the possibility and power we could both have by this arrangement. What two syndicates could be if united. Funny, all I had to do was think about her."

"You mean, while you were cleaning up after your brother." I didn't let him off easily. To stand as if he didn't offer his sister to save both of their titles.

Aldo shrugged. "Yes, and no. I saw it a bit differently."

I waited for him to continue.

"New York would've come after your brother. An eye for an eye. Then kill what was meant to stay dead, his woman. No loose ends. And we would've gone to war, Lombardi. While my sister faced Los Angeles, by duty." Aldo took a long drag. "And in the end, I would've gained nothing by losing her. Sure, cleaning after Dante gave me an alternative, but at least I chose it with more than myself in mind."

Aldo was more thoughtful than I'd perceived. And while his reasoning made sense, it didn't take away the immorality of his actions. But who was I to judge?

He could paint in different colors and distort it how he wished. Either way, I had Alessandra now. The how no longer mattered to me.

"What makes you think I control my iron hands?"

"Because while we are both cruel, Massimo, our dicks don't twitch at the sight of pain on a woman." He paused. "Well, at least not ours."

Elio's sharp intake of air and soft chuckle blew near my ear, and Aldo snapped his eyes to mine.

"And by the looks of it, I was right."

While Aldo was right, I didn't agree. It was unnecessary.

"How long before your time comes?" My question was bold, disrespectful even. But Franco wasn't here, and something told me Aldo wouldn't share our conversation.

"Soon."

That night, Alessandra was flustered about us sharing a bed. The tradition of bringing bad luck into our marriage by sleeping with me the night before weighed heavily on her.

Hadn't she seen we were the bad luck?

That our way of life had deemed us doomed from birth?

It was comical to see her so riled over such nonsense while we lived day by day with death's laughter on our front step.