Her father had gone off to bed right after an awkward dessert of hot fudge sundaes. Donnie and Uncle Mel were talking, and the women were cleaning up. Though Ari considered herself a feminist and would have laughed Julian out of the apartment if he’d ever walked away from his own dishes, she’d been raised in a home where there was women’s work and men’s work. Women could work outside the home if they wished, but they absolutely worked inside it as well. When she was home, she fell in line.
She had no idea about Donnie’s ideas on the matter; he paid people to tend to his home. Their home.
“I hope Daddy’s okay. Is he drinking again? All the time?” After her mom died, her dad had lived a few hard years, lost in grief.
“No, baby.” Anita stood straight and smoothed her hand in circles on Ari’s back. “He missed you at Christmas, and he’s been worried since Donnie got shot, but he’s been okay. Tonight was a celebration, and he just had a little too much, like all of us.”
“Okay. I won’t miss any more Christmases.”
“You’ll do what you need to do for your man now, Ari. His life leads yours. So don’t make promises. If I’ve learned anything in all my years with Mel, it’s that. In a life like ours, you don’t make promises.”
Aunt Anita had been a Mafia wife for almost all Ari’s life. Certainly as long as she remembered. But Ari remembered her as the woman who’d stepped into the space her mother had left. The woman who took her to dance class and mended her tutus, who learned everything there was to learn about the ballet so she could talk with Ari about the thing she loved, who’d learned French with her so she’d have someone to practice with. Who’d baked cookies and cupcakes for school parties and dance class bake sales, who’d sewn her costumes for Halloween and her first recitals, who’d held her when she came home from school with a bruised heart, disappointed by a boy or a friend, or just adolescence in general.
What Uncle Mel did had only touched the fringes of Ari’s life, because Aunt Anita had not been a Mafia Wife in Ari’s mind. She’d simply been a mother to a girl who’d needed one.
Ari looked over her shoulder and considered the general direction Donnie and Uncle Mel had gone. ‘Five minutes after dinner’ had turned into half an hour and more that they were sequestered in Ari’s dad’s office. They were talking serious business. Things like this, men going off to talk in dark corners, or leaving unannounced—those things she remembered. They were the things on the fringes of her life.
“He’s a good man, Auntie.”
“I know he is. Mel said he has a good rep—not just respect, but admiration. That’s good. That means he’s strong and smart. But men so high up, they’re targets. You might have security all the rest of your life now. Can you deal with that?”
“I’m already used to it. It’s been like that as long as I’ve known him. They’re just shadows to me now. My life is exactly as I want it.”
Her aunt gave her a long look. “Okay, baby.”
The floor creaked, and Ari looked behind her again. Donnie was coming up to the doorway. She smiled, and saw it reflected in his own.
“You about ready to call it a night?” he asked.
“As soon as we get the kitchen clean, yep.”
Anita took the flower-sponge from her. “I’ll finish up. You go have some quiet time, and get some rest. I’m getting you up early so we can be at Ambricio’s when they open and get their best pastries for breakfast.”
“Are you sure?”
“Go! Go!” Anita kissed her cheek. “Good night, Donnie.”
As he took Ari’s hand, he turned his smile to her aunt. “Good night, Anita. Thank you for the delicious food.”
~oOo~
Ari’s childhood bedroom was caught in the neverwhere between two lives. It had the same furnishings and linens and posters and knickknacks of the teenager who’d last lived in it, but none of the incidental necessities of the woman who’d left it behind. On first seeing it, Donnie had said it was like a ‘dollhouse room,’ and Ari thought that insightful. Decorated for a girl who was nothing more than a memory her father kept close, like a doll.
After a soft kiss and a quiet embrace, they undressed quietly, Donnie stripping to his underwear, and Ari taking his discarded t-shirt and pulling it over her bare body. She sat on her double bed, covered in a pink quilted satin spread. Donnie sat beside her and picked up her hand. “I’m going to have to do some business tomorrow afternoon.”
“Okay. I figured when you talked to Uncle Mel so long, it was more important than you expected.”
“It could be good, though. It could help.”
Donnie didn’t go into detail about the things he did, but he’d been more forthcoming about the trouble that had gotten him shot and had all the Pagano Brothers on alert all the time. A war was brewing. It sounded like the Romanos might ally with the Paganos, or provide some kind of assistance. She knew enough to know that a New York Family extending an offer of aid to a New England Family meant the war could have a huge impact.
It wasn’t her place to say any of that, and she didn’t want it to be. She wanted her life with Donnie to be a place where their separate worlds waited outside, like the men in SUVs.
She traced the new scars on his belly. “Thank you for being kind to my father tonight. I’m so sorry about what he said.”
“It’s okay. He’s worried about you. So am I.”
“I’m not. I know I’m safe with you.”
Smiling, he brushed her hair back and cupped his hand over her cheek. “I love to see the way you see me.”
“I see you the way you are.”
She turned and straddled him. He groaned and hooked his hands around her hips, and his cock swelled beneath her, pressing the fabric of his underwear into her folds.
He smiled beneath her lips as she kissed him. “What are your thoughts about fucking in your dad’s house? It’s been six weeks today, you know.”
“I know.” Six weeks ago today, he’d been shot. Six weeks was how long he was supposed to wait for strenuous physical activity, including sex. But on Christmas morning, when he’d gone down on her and given her the most amazing and unexpected gift, he’d come and hurt himself badly enough he’d needed Oxy later in the day. That was three weeks ago, but Ari worried. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
His hands eased from her hips, up under the t-shirt, and cupped her breasts. “Arianna, I’ve been ready since I woke up in the hospital and saw you sleeping beside me in that red dress. Yes, I’m ready. I feel good again. You know that. I’m strong.”
She reached down between them and pulled his cock free of his boxer briefs. “Yes, you are. Strong and beautiful and mine.”
As she slid down onto him, he groaned deeply, softly, desperately. He pulled his t-shirt up over her head and threw it aside, and he clutched her close and latched with ravenous hunger to her breast. Her body exploded with sparkling, earthy, needy pleasure.
Ari wrapped her arms around his beautiful head and made up for six weeks of lost time.
No. It was twenty years he’d lost.
~ Epilogue ~
Donnie tapped the screen, and the video played again. “Fuck.”
Today of all days, he didn’t want to be here, in Nick’s office, staring at that image on Angie’s tablet. Security footage from the international terminal at JFK. Bogdan Bondaruk, eldest son of Yuri Bondaruk and underboss of his organization, strolling out of Customs like he was about to embark on a long-planned holiday. As he cleared the customs stations, three heavy men in black converged behind him. They carried themselves as if they were armed, and Donnie was sure they were. People had been paid off handsomely, from Kiev to New York City, to get the Bondaruk prince into the States so boldly.
“A convoy of three was waiting for them,” Angie said. “Calvin has them getting a ride to Brooklyn. He’s bunking with the Zelenkos.”
Nick sat back in his chair. “This is what I wanted when we turned down the meet with the Zelenkos. No more cannon fodder. I
wanted Yuri, but Bogdan will do. Donnie, when it’s time, you’ll go in my stead. Second will face second. And we’ll see what we see.”
What they would see was the scope of the fight they faced. Bondaruk’s decision to ally with another bratva gave him strength and weight in the US he hadn’t had on his own, but it had also put his efforts on the radar of the New York Council, and now, at the urging of the Romanos, all five New York Families were in the game, aligned with the Nick and the rest of the New England Council. Ten Italian families against two Ukrainian bratvas.
The odds seemed to tip strongly in their favor, but their opponents seemed to have no code, or not one the Italians understood.
Donnie couldn’t restrain his fist from punching Nick’s desk. “Why did this have to fucking happen today?”
Nick chuckled. “It’s good, Donnie. We know where he is. We know what he’s doing. If he’s smart, he won’t make a move until he understands the land, and knows he can trust the men around him. If he’s smart, he’ll take more time to strengthen his position before he strikes. If he’s stupid, he’ll make a stupid move fast, and we’ll deal with it faster. But smart or stupid, he won’t make a move today. Today, you can know the day will go as it should.” The don checked his watch. “Unless you’re late, that is. We should get to the church.”
“Don’t wait on me,” Angie said. “I’m gonna swing over to West Egg. Billy had trouble with tourists last night, and there was some damage.”
Billy Jones had opened her Gatsby-themed nightclub two weeks before Memorial Day. Though Donnie had doubts that the name would appeal to a wide audience—he’d had to be reminded that West Egg was a reference from the book, the place where Jay Gatsby’s mansion was—the club had been an instant hit with the locals, and with the summer crowd, too. Billy had a bit more popularity than she could manage, apparently.
Quiet Cove businesses paid the Pagano Brothers for protection and insurance whether they wanted to or not, but they got what they paid for. Nick would cover damages incurred.
But Nick said, “No. You come to the church. Send a guy, but I don’t want you getting hung up in bullshit today. Today is for family.”
Angie smiled. “Understood. I’ll send Tony.”
“Good. Let’s go. We’ve got important business today.” He clapped Donnie on the back.
~oOo~
“You look like James Bond.” Bev fussed with the bow tie he’d just tied, though he knew damn well he’d tied it straight. He usually wore a straight tie with a tuxedo, but he’d tied enough bow ties in his day, without using a mirror, that he could do it in his sleep.
Donnie glanced down at his tux—a brand new one, custom made and classically styled, with satin notch lapels and black button covers on his plain white shirt. “Arianna has classic taste.”
She laughed and picked up the boutonniere. Two identical orange rosebuds. “And you don’t?”
Donnie stood still while she pinned the flower to his lapel, and let her rhetorical question go unanswered. When she was done, she smoothed her hands over his jacket, drawing them down to grasp his hands. “I’m so happy for you, Donnie. I knew she was out there waiting for you. I knew when you found her, you’d let her in.”
Donnie clutched his dear friend’s hands. “I think she found me. I think I was lost.”
“No. You weren’t lost. You just got turned around.”
A knock on the door interrupted them, but Donnie didn’t know if he could have replied to Bev, anyway. He felt a little drunk today, moving through a world that was brighter and more open than he’d known.
Bev dropped his hands and stepped back.
“Come,” Donnie said, and the door opened.
Arianna’s father stood there, in a similar classic suit. “Donnie. Can I have a minute?”
“Of course, Art. Come in.”
“I’ll check and make sure everything’s good with Ari, and I’ll see you out there.” Bev lifted up, and Donnie offered his cheek for her kiss. She patted Art’s arm before she left the room.
Donnie didn’t want to sit and crease his suit before the ceremony, but with a wave of his hand, he offered the chair in this groom’s room at Christ the King Catholic Church to Arianna’s father.
“No, thanks. I just wanted to say a few words. When I married Ari’s mom, her dad had a lot of things to say to me about how to treat his girl. Ari’s my only, so I guess I can’t call it a tradition, but I wanted to say something about her. What she means.”
Donnie didn’t speak; it was Arianna’s father’s prerogative to have words with her groom. Who they were in the world didn’t matter. Right now, the man with the power was the father.
Art cleared his throat. “I don’t have a problem with what you do. Mel’s been connected since we were kids. I used to run errands, too, back in those days, and maybe I’d’ve joined up, too, if things went a different way. But I had chances Mel didn’t. I did well in school. I got a scholarship to college. So I took another path. But what you do, what Mel does, I grew up with it, lived my whole life with it. I’ve seen the good, bad, and ugly, and I’m right with it. What I’m saying is I know the life you’re giving her. Ari’s been my whole life since the nurse set her in my arms. On that day, I promised her I’d keep her safe and make her happy. When her mamma died, I promised her again. I told her I’d make sure she was happy again, and she’d have a good life, and I wouldn’t let anything hurt her. I let her fly off on her own because home was too small for her wings, and she loves her life away. She’s happy, and that makes me happy, even though she left me behind.”
He stopped and let his head droop. Donnie waited, respecting the man’s emotion. There was nothing he could say, no denial he could make. All he could make was a promise, and when her father was finished, Donnie would renew the promise he’d made before.
After a brisk exhale, Art faced him again. “Just because I don’t see her much, don’t think it means I don’t love her like always. I’ve had her in my arms all this time, but I’m setting her in your arms now. All I ask is you keep her safe and make her happy.”
“Art, on my life, I swear I will.” Donnie extended his hand, and Arianna’s father gripped it hard.
~oOo~
Donnie stood before Father Merkel, with Nick and Angie at his side. Across the altar stood Julian, Arianna’s man of honor. Carina sauntered down the aisle, full of attitude, wearing an orange gown that made it brilliantly clear she was on her way to a wild kind of beauty to match her fierce personality. Nick would lose his mind trying to keep this girl under his wing.
As she took her place at Julian’s side, Donnie sent her a smile and a wink. She stuck her tongue out at him. Still a little girl for a while longer, then.
The music changed, and Arianna came into the sanctuary on her father’s arm. Her dress had been designed just for her by the ballet’s costume designer, and he knew she’d been excited for him to see it. It was a thing of wonder, yes. A beautiful big swirl of tulle and satin. And he didn’t care at all. Inside that dress was the woman who loved him, and she was all he could see. She glided to him, her eyes on him, sparkling with tears.
Her father put her hand in his. Set her in his arms, trusted him to keep her safe and happy.
And he would. Whatever happened, he would keep her safe.
“You are beautiful,” he murmured.
She grinned. “So are you.”
They’d decided on a totally traditional ceremony. Nothing extra, no writing of their own vows. They were married in a ceremony like millions of Catholic marriages through history. They exchanged rings—the circle of diamonds he’d shown her when he’d given her the solitaire, and a heavy, plain platinum band for him. They said the words, vowing to love, honor and cherish each other throughout their lives.
Except for the moment of their rings, Arianna’s eyes never left his. He knew, because his never left hers. She saw him. He saw her.
When it was over, and the priest gave his blessing, Donnie cupped his hands aro
und Arianna’s beautiful face, and he kissed her. In front of everyone they knew, a church full of people who loved them, he kissed his bride.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Susan Fanetti is a Midwestern native transplanted to Northern California, where she lives with her husband, youngest son, and assorted cats.
She is a proud member of the Freak Circle Press.
Susan’s website: www.susanfanetti.com
Freak Circle Press blog: www.freakcirclepress.com
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Pagano Brothers Pinterest Board: https://www.pinterest.com/laughingwarrior/the-pagano-brothers-series/
Hidden Worthiness Page 30