Chapter 10

It feels good to see the oasis strung up with fairy lights instead of riddled with bullet holes.

The scars from the attack are still there, but Mom and I worked hard to get everything set up and covered over in time for the guests to arrive. Tables and chairs are set up all along the block and a live band is playing quiet acoustic covers of pop songs while waiters pass food and drinks to the milling guests. We basically whipped this together in a few days since Brody didn’t give me much time to prepare. Even though it’s not exactly perfect, I feel better than I have in a really long time.

Everyone’s here. Mom and Dad are both glad-handing the various lieutenants and Capos alongside Davide and Simon. Laura even forced herself to join the festivities, although she did corner me early in the night to tell me that she’d rather die than spend the whole evening socializing. I gave her a pass and told her that I love her. I got a very kind grunt in return.

Brody’s mingling somewhere. I haven’t seen much of him—he’s been busy shaking hands and accepting congratulations from the members of his organization he invited. I did get introduced to his extended family though. There was Seamus, the second oldest brother, followed by Molly and Declan, then Nolan and Caitlin, and finally their mother, Orla, who gave me a warm hug and a kiss and made me promise I’ll be kind to her son.

“I have to admit, the Bianco family knows how to throw down,” Stefania says and makes sure I have a fresh glass of prosecco in hand. It’s nice and cold and feels good going down on a warm summer evening. The sun’s beginning to set and the staff bring out more lights to keep everything going.

“Makes it easy when we have a perfect venue like this.” I gesture at the otherwise empty block. Lurking at the edges are armed men, twice as many as there used to be. “And everyone that got invited basically had to come whether they wanted to or not.”

“That’s fair. I mean, the Don did order it.” Stefania grins and waves to her brother Saul, who’s still in from Philly for another couple days. He’s been working with our soldiers and our Capos, training them in mafia fighting and how to win a war without getting everyone arrested.

“Only one thing’s bothering me,” I say, leaning up against Stefania’s shoulder. “That pesky husband of mine.”

“I noticed you two haven’t exactly been deep in conversation this evening.”

“He’s a little too busy for me.” I raise my eyebrows and nod toward where he’s sitting at a table of other mafia men, half of them Bianco and half of them Quinn, and the whole group laughs at something he said.

“It always amazes me how fast they gravitate to each other.” Stefania sighs and motions for Simon’s wife, Emily, to come join us. She’s a little spitfire and I love her. “We were just talking about how the guys love their sausage parties.”

“It’s kind of sad, right?” Emily gives me a big hug. “Congrats, by the way, or maybe I’m sorry?”

I laugh and squeeze her shoulder. “Both are appropriate.”

“Then I’m sorry but congrats.” She squints over at Brody’s table. “He’s good-looking though. That’s nice, right?”

“Is he?” I pretend to tap my lip like I’m considering. “I don’t know. He’s too tall and muscular for me.”

“Oh, yeah, good point, it’s totally gross how he’s in extremely good shape and has great hair.” Emily nods, keeping a straight face. “I’d be disgusted too.”

“The wedding night is going to be hard,” Stefania says with a sigh then perks up. “Get it? Hard?”

Emily and I groan, and Stefania cackles at her own bad joke. We talk about what it’s like to be married, or mostly they do. Both of them had nontraditional starts to their relationships, but somehow it managed to work out, and now Emily and Simon are totally head-over-heels for each other and expecting a baby, while Stefania and Davide make the perfect team together. Who knows when she’ll get knocked up though. Sometimes I wonder if she ever will. And honestly? Good for freaking her. There’s enough pressure on women in the mafia to start pumping out kids immediately, and I’m proud of her for holding off to follow her dreams.

The band starts playing louder, more up-tempo music, and as night falls in earnest, some of the guests hit the dance floor. Everyone’s been drinking and everyone’s stuffed with good food, even though more keeps getting passed around constantly, and I’m in a happy little haze. I keep looking over at Brody with a strange jealousy fluttering in my chest, and I wish he’d come over and spend some time with me, but I understand what this is.

The party isn’t for us. It’s for our guests to show their loyalty to our organizations. That’s why there aren’t any members of the general public here: this gathering is strictly mafia, both Quinn and Bianco, and there’s a lot of ring-kissing and dick-measuring going on, which is pretty typical of these gatherings.

Still, there’s a part of me that feels melancholy. I never really thought I’d have the big church wedding with flower petals and a fluffy white dress, but I pictured something a little fancier than an outdoor block party in front of my own house while wearing a nice little gray cocktail dress. I look good, and I enjoy the appreciative glances I catch from some of the soldiers that look my way, but still. It’s just not quite right.

As I start on my fourth drink of the evening, there’s a commotion at the far end of the oasis. I watch as more soldiers walk over to deal with it, and I can’t help but follow to see what’s going on. I catch a glimpse of Mom sitting at a table with Dad, both of them looking unhappy as they crane their necks to see through the crush.

Flashing blue and red lights bounce off the buildings. My stomach sinks as I approach and find three police cruisers parked at the edge of the block, not quite inside the oasis, but very close. Soldiers block their way, not openly brandishing guns, but they might as well, and the cops look pretty pissed. Matty’s arguing with them and gesturing back at the party.

“What’s going on?” I ask once I reach the inner circle.

One of the officers looks in my direction. “We got some calls from the neighbors about the noise. This is an unsanctioned block party, ma’am, and we need to shut it down.”

That sets Matty off again. He tells the cops to fuck off in no uncertain terms, which only escalates things, and I have to push my way between them before it turns into an outright brawl.

This has never happened before. These cops have to know who we are. There’s an unspoken agreement in this city that the oasis runs by its own rules and laws, and we rarely ever cause problems. Mostly because everyone that lives near our home is an ally of the Bianco Famiglia and we treat them extremely well.

“Nobody around here would ever lodge a noise complaint, officer,” I tell the man in charge. He’s an older man with gray hair, wearing a uniform that hugs his gut and his thick shoulders. “It’s just a wedding⁠—”

“I don’t give a shit what you think you’re doing,” he snaps at me and steps closer. “You need to shut this down right now.”

About six different men get in the cop’s face, driving him back as shouting erupts. I look around frantically until I spot Simon coming over. I wave him down and his men let him through, but when he questions the cops, he gets the same bullshit response.

“You’ve got five minutes to make that band stop playing or we’re calling in backup and closing this whole parade down.” The officer backs away toward his cars and doesn’t seem to give a shit what Simon has to say.

My brother is livid. He’s practically glowing with rage. “Somebody’s fucking with us,” he says softly, his teeth clenched together. “And we all know who it is.”

A murmur runs through the gathered men. Santoro. Like the whisper of waves over stones. Santoro. The boogeyman. And maybe they’re right, maybe Santoro did call this in just to mess with us, but I don’t know. This feels more personal.

Finally, Brody pushes his way through the crowd. He takes my arm and steers me away from the gathering, pulling me free and sitting me down on a nearby stoop. “Let me handle it,” he says.

“Those cops out there aren’t going to care what you have to say.”

He grunts in response and takes out his phone. “I’m not going to talk to them.” He makes a call and wanders away just far enough that I can’t hear what he’s saying.

But his face tells me everything. He’s as angry as my brother, but he’s holding it all inside. Simon and Brody are similar, except Simon is more expressive, which is honestly a minor miracle. Brody hides his emotions, he keeps them shoved down deep inside like he’s some kind of walking robot. I might not even know he has any feelings at all except I’ve seen the passion and right now there’s a hint of murder in his eyes.

“Give it five minutes,” he says, sitting down next to me. His thigh presses against mine. “They’ll be gone.”

“Who was that?”

“Just a guy.” He glances at me, not smiling. “This is why you married me, remember? For my contacts in the force.”

I smile slightly and lean closer to him. “I thought I was marrying you for your good looks.”

“That too. But mostly my contacts.” He puts an arm around my shoulder and hugs me close. I’m surprised, but I don’t mind. The night’s been getting cool and he’s big and warm, and I like the way he smells, spicy and musky with a hint of sandalwood and mint.

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you tonight.” I make a face. “I can’t decide if that’s a bad thing.”

“We’ve been busy. You know how it goes. Everyone wants a piece of the Don.” He’s staring off toward the cops and there’s a strange undercurrent to that comment, a little bitterness I haven’t heard before now.

“Is that hard?” I ask, following my gut on this. “All the people that want things from you?”

“Sometimes,” he admits and his voice is very quiet. “But that’s my job. It’s how my father was, and it’s how I’ll be.”

His father, the Don before him. I know better than most people how complicated fathers can be. “Were you close with your dad?”

“As close as I could have been. He wasn’t a warm man, but he wasn’t a hard one either. There wasn’t a lot of love and kindness, but he took care of his people.”

“That must’ve been hard when you were little.”

He shakes his head. “I got used to it.”

I want to ask for more, but I get the feeling he doesn’t want to go on, and I’m usually pretty good at reading people. I let the subject drop. “Looks like something’s happening.”

The cops are on their radios listening to someone very intently. Even from this distance, I watch as the big lead officer’s face goes pale and he has a very stressed-looking conversation with his fellows. Once that’s done, they don’t even bother saying anything to Simon and his men, they just get back into their cruisers, turn off their lights, and drive off.

“I had a feeling that was going to happen,” Brody says and slowly climbs to his feet. I’m tempted to ask him to stay and talk a little longer. For the first time since we met, I feel like I’m getting somewhere with him and I’m actually enjoying his company.

“I guess it’s time to mingle some more,” I say, and he squints off toward where Simon’s having an animated conversation with Davide. They’re probably making battle plans already, even though Davide’s not fully healed and definitely not ready to get in more trouble.

“You’re probably right.” But instead of walking off, Brody turns to me, his head tilted. “You look good tonight.”

I’m not sure what to make of the compliment. My cheeks warm up and I smile at him. “Thanks. You do too.”

“I meant to give you this earlier, but I got distracted.” He crouches down in front of me and takes out a small ring box. “As requested.”

I laugh, and didn’t really expect this, but I let him slip the simple diamond onto my ring finger. It’s slightly too big and will need to be resized, but I like the style. Simple and elegant.

“You did good, Brody Quinn.”

“You like it?”

“I really do.” I wiggle my fingers at him. “What do you think? How’s it feel to have your ring on my finger?”

He stands and gives me a long, inscrutable look. I honestly can’t tell if he’s happy or if he’s about to ask for it back. In the end, he only flexes his back and stretches his arms and turns to walk off.

I watch him go, my strange new husband, not sure what in the world he wants.