Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 26768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
But Nico, the second, loves to give Mrs. Nelly a run for her damn money.
“Yes sir,” he says and I fix his bow tie.
All the boys wear a uniform for school. Nico is eight, Matteo nearing seven and Luca five. When Emelia was ready to have kids, I didn’t slow down. I kept knocking her up the second we got the clear after each one. We are currently trying for one more and I’ve enjoyed the process just as I do every time. Though I’ll admit, the long period of time that we have not been able to get pregnant has posed to be a frustration for us both.
“Good, Matteo and Luca, you be good. Listen to Mrs. Nelly. If she reports that you did all your work without giving her trouble, I will take us to Greta’s for dinner and Manny’s Pastry for dessert.”
“Yay!” they holler in unison. We have gone to Greta’s for a long time, and it’s become a family tradition.
“Good, say goodbye to Mamma.” I turn to Emelia, and she’s smiling wide at us. Such a goddamn goddess.
“Bye Mamma!” They hug her and she gives them each a personal goodbye before standing and letting them know we will be back soon. They all act like me with a wild side, but they crumble into putty with their mother. I always assumed I would have sons that would be raised to be ruthless and while they will one day run this outfit, Emelia is teaching them how to do it with a wiseness. I will teach them ruthlessness and she will teach them intelligence. My sons will be the new generation that the Mafia needs and my stubborn, hardheaded, yet soft and kind wife will play a huge part of that.
I would have never dreamed before Emelia, that I would let my wife have a say in my world. That was my plan all throughout my young adult life, but then my arranged wife, one who I had planned to destroy, caught me by the throat and I may run the Seattle streets, but Emelia Rene, runs the man behind the throne.
Once we are in the elevator, I pull my wife into my side and inhale her scent, kissing her forehead, temple, cheek, and lips. I was in Chicago for almost a week to handle a few men, a new shipment of cocaine, and my time away from Emelia was maddening. I hate being apart from my wife. She has become a fucking appendage to me. For the first few years of our marriage, I struggled with the idea that I could lean so heavily on her, without losing the authority I had known my whole life. In the Mafia, men do not fold for women, but I fucking topple over, crawl and kiss the fucking ground my wife walks on.
Learning to let Emelia have power in the marriage did not show weakness, it only showed my ability to be a leader who saw that women have worth. They are not used for fucking and reproducing children. They are meant to lead and teach boys how to be real fucking men. No one in the Mafia is more powerful than a Mafia king’s wife.
“What do you want for breakfast?” She smiles up at me sweetly.
“I know you told the kids we would get cannolis tonight, but I am craving one right now.” She giggles.
I chuckle back. “What principessa wants, she shall get.”
The elevator opens and Giulio is standing there waiting. The other residents pass by us with their heads down and eyes focused on anything, but my wife and I. Fear is fuel to me, however Emelia has a thing about wanting to get to know the neighbors. Baking pies, showing up and having casual conversations over dinner, isn’t really my style. But I make a great effort to put on a smile when one or two people accidentally look me in the face.
One man risks it and when I give him a curt nod and half grin, he scurries and Emelia chuckles in my side, nudging me softly in the ribs.
“Even your grin is scary. Best you leave it to me, my love.”
“This one.” I give her the same one.
“Okay, it’s not creepy to me because I know you, but if I knew you were the Mafia leader and you smiled at me like that, I would run the other way.”
“Is that right?”
We step out onto the street, and I usher her in front of me. Giulio would open the door, but he stops. For me, he opens every damn door, but with Emelia, if I am present, I open her doors.
“Yes, you can be very intimidating.” I grab her then and push her against the side of the large blacked out, nearly bullet-proof Range Rover. Her breath hitches. And I grab the plush, thick skin of her hip. Leaning into her ear, I bite the lobe, and she visibly shutters against me.