TOM TUGGED on the sleeves of his suit jacket, and shifted on the chair for the fifth time. This whole meeting shouldn’t be a big deal—he had been waiting for what seemed like forever and a day for this moment.
He was beyond ready.
Yet, he fidgeted.
“Stop bouncing around like that,” his father said to him, adding a severe look to make his point. It only worked for a second, and then he was back to fidgeting all over again. “Why are you so nervous, Tommaso?”
“Don’t really know,” he admitted.
“Give him a break,” Damian said from the other side of the table while he looked at the screen of his phone. “I think it’s normal, all things considered. Joe damn near paced a hole in the floor when he had to talk to Lucian. Didn’t seem to matter how many times I told him Lucian actually liked his dumb ass. There he was, pacing back and forth for a good hour or more.”
“Yeah, cut him some slack,” Theo agreed. “It’s not like any of us understands how this feels for him. We never had to ask for this kind of thing way back when. I imagine it’s enough to make him want to puke.”
“All right,” Tom said, “if we’re going to start talking about our feelings and walking down memory fucking lane, I am out.”
The other men at the table ignored him completely. Not that he was surprised when they continued on with their conversation like he hadn’t even said anything at all.
“We only didn’t have to ask because they were all dead,” his father said.
“Lucky you, Tommas,” Damian replied. “Mine was arranged, so my choice was do it, or die.”
“You say that like you don’t love my sister to death,” Theo said, smirking.
“No, I love Lily. We were the lucky ones in that way.”
“No, Alessa and I were the lucky ones back then.” Adriano flashed a smile from the far end of the table. Tom was convinced his uncle’s only reason for coming to the meeting was to watch him squirm. “And you know what, now that I think of it, Theo kind of asked. Not my dad, I mean. He was dead. Me, though. He asked me.”
“Did I?” Theo asked.
“More told than asked, but I respected it just the same.”
Tommas looked to Tom, and shrugged. “My apologies, son. Apparently, you can be nervous. What the fuck do I know?”
Tom stared up at the ceiling and wished it would swallow him whole. He didn’t think that was asking for very much, considering. Right?
“It’ll be over before you know it,” his uncle said.
“And easier than you’re making it out to be,” his father added.
“Please, shut up,” Tom muttered.
Chuckles echoed back from the men surrounding him at the table. Really, Tom didn’t mind their jokes even if he did pretend otherwise. There were the men whose feet he had grown up under. These were the men who had guided him through every milestone in his life, and put him on the proper paths when he had lost his way.
He supposed, in a way, it made sense for them to be here for this milestone, too.
People passed by the front windows of the restaurant, distracting Tom for the moment. The men at the table went back to chatting with his father, but he wasn’t paying them much attention. He was too lost inside his own head to care.
It took his father touching his shoulder to finally break Tom from the daze. Tommas gave him a knowing smile.
“He won’t refuse you,” his father said. “You know that, right?”
“Do I?”
“What reason would he have to refuse you, Tommaso?”
“The same reason any father with a daughter might refuse, Dad.”
Tommas shook his head. “He knows you’re a good man. You’re worrying for nothing, son. He likes you.”
Tom laughed dryly. “So?”
“He has probably known this was coming for a while now.”
“Aren’t all fathers the same?”
“How so?” Tommas asked.
“They find their daughters hard to let go.”
“You’re overthinking this, son.”
“She was always his, Dad.”
“Not when she became yours, Tommaso.”
“New restaurant?” Calisto asked.
Tommas nodded. “It is, actually.”
The Donati boss shook hands with Tom’s father. Tommas waved at the open chairs waiting at the table for Calisto and the men he had brought along with him to sit. Behind the man, his underboss and consigliere waited for the greetings to finish.
Cross, still relatively new to being his father’s underboss, nodded to Tom. Wolf Puzza—Calisto’s consigliere—kept his attention on the meeting bosses.
“Sit, Cal,” Tommas said with another wave.
Once everyone was seated at the table again, Calisto’s gaze turned on Tom. “There’s a very young Capo at the table today. Any particular reason for that?”
Tom’s father laughed under his breath before replying, “The title is a matter of semantics for Tommaso, now. I’ve learned that my son doesn’t quite fit the position. He does his best work for me elsewhere.”
Calisto’s gaze drifted toward Cross with a knowing nod. “Yes, they do have a way of surprising us like that. Don’t they?”
“Seems so.” Tommas waved a hand, and added, “Besides, Tommaso has agreed to begin shadowing Damian. One of the reasons he’s sitting in on this meeting between our syndicates today.”
“Already mentoring with your underboss,” Calisto said, his tone offering nothing as to how he felt about that.
“Do you think he’s too young for it?”
Calisto gestured to his own son. “I think some men are simply a better fit for the position, regardless of their age.”
“Me, too,” Tommas agreed. “Business, then?”
A single nod passed between the bosses; business was the first tall order of the day. At least one hurdle for the meeting was over. Tom could once again thank God for small miracles. Had Calisto been uncomfortable with Tom’s presence at the meeting, he would have had every right to ask Tommas to make his son leave.
It was a test of sorts from Tommas. As far as Tom knew, his father was testing the waters with other syndicates regarding a far younger underboss readying to have a say in the Chicago Outfit. Mafia politics were what they were. Sure, Tom hated them most of the time, but they were still needed at the end of the day.
Tom stayed quiet—like he had been directed to by his father—as the business connections between the Donati Cosa Nostra and Chicago Outfit were discussed. All standard, usual things that continued to keep the peace between their respective organizations. Some upcoming deals that involved money for both families. More politics, but Tom found like this, he didn’t mind them so much.
He didn’t need to prove his worth.
He already had.
Before long, the meeting was coming to an end, and the Donati men stood to leave. After all, it was never a good thing for two organizations to gather together in the same place for too long. Feds took notice, and nobody wanted their picture on yet another corkboard in some suit’s office.
All over again, with a single look from his father, Tom’s nerves kicked into overdrive.
Now or never.
“I don’t think there’s anything else, is there?” Calisto asked.
“Tommaso has something to ask, I believe,” Tommas said, looking to Tom.
All eyes turned on him.
Tom’s mouth went dry.
Fuck.
“Well, what is it?” Calisto asked.
Tom spoke even though it felt like his heart was thumping hard enough in his throat to make him puke. “Camilla.”
“What about my daughter?”
He was acutely aware of all the other men staring at him in that moment. None of them were strangers to him except for the Donati underboss, yet it still felt like it. He was beginning to think he should have done this in a more private setting.
“Tommaso,” Calisto pressed, “what about Cam?”
Just spit it the fuck out, man.
Tom did just that. “I want to ask Camilla to marry me, and I would really like your blessing to do it.”
There, he said it. Now, it was out in the open. No taking it back. His nerves started to ebb a bit. Not a whole lot, though. He still hadn’t gotten a reply from Calisto, after all.
The silence stretched on while Calisto and Tom continued their staring contest. Someone cleared their throat, and Calisto finally glanced down at the table, breaking the tension.
“You don’t need to ask me for that, Tommaso,” he said.
“But I wanted to,” Tom replied.
“What I said remains the same.”
“Cal,” Tom’s father said, “all he’s asking for is—”
“I know what he’s asking for,” Calisto interjected as his sharp gaze cut to Tommas. “He doesn’t need to ask for it at all.”
“Because you won’t give him your blessing, or …?”
Calisto looked back to Tom once more. “Tom thinks I don’t know about a lot of things. He thinks I don’t know about what he did to a man inside the office of a club when said man insulted my daughter. He didn’t even think about defending her—if it was wrong, or not his place—he just did it. At that time, Tom barely knew Camilla at all. He still did it, though. And, while some might be angry with him for killing a man, and not coming to me with the information, he did what he was told by my son. Something else I appreciate for too many reasons than I care to name at the moment.”
Tom looked to Cross, questioning silently. He had been unaware that his friend chose to share that information with Calisto. Cross only shrugged.
“He thinks I don’t know,” Calisto said, glancing back to Tom’s father, “how Camilla can be, and how difficult and wonderful she is. He thinks I don’t how he waited her out because despite her restless heart, she was worth it.”
Calisto shrugged, adding, “I wish she still danced as much as she did when she was little, and that she still needed me as much as she used to. I wish she would travel more, see the world, and let life figure out the rest for her as she goes. Maybe I would have chosen a million different paths for my daughter, but these are the ones she has chosen for herself. He is the one she has chosen.
“So yes,” Calisto murmured with a smile. “He thinks I don’t know about a lot of things, but I do. I know. Tommaso does not need to ask for something from me that he already has.”
Tom cleared his throat, but stayed quiet.
“What was it that I told you when you first approached me about Camilla, Tom?” Calisto asked.
He didn’t even have to think about it. Not really.
“You don’t make those kinds of choices for Cam because you love her.”
Calisto ticked a finger in Tom’s direction. “Exactly that. Don’t ask me for something you already have. Although even if I did want you to ask me, you should already know, I think you have very much earned my blessing.”
“Where are we going?” Camilla asked.
“For a drive,” Tom replied.
“I didn’t come to Chicago for the weekend to spend a whole day driving around, Tom.”
He shot her a look. “Be nice, Cam.”
She grinned right back. “I think you like me better when I’m kind of nasty, though.”
“Depends on the kind of nasty, babe.”
He squeezed her thigh high under her skirt. She laughed, but didn’t bat his hand away.
“Are you planning on doing something between my thighs, or …?”
Tom winked. “Later, yeah.”
“Boo, you suck.”
“You’re distracting, and I need to keep both of us alive at the moment.”
“Mmhmm.”
She moved Tom’s hand even higher under her skirt, eliciting a thick groan from him when damp cotton met his fingertips.
“Killing me here,” he told her.
Camilla pushed his hand away with one of her teasing little laughs. “You better make it up to me later.”
“You know it.”
“So I seriously can’t do anything to convince you to tell me where we’re going?”
The suggestive tone in her words couldn’t be missed. Sweet Jesus, this woman was something else.
“You’re pure filth, Camilla.”
She smiled wickedly. “I know.”
“Stop trying to bribe me with sex. It won’t work.”
She sighed. “You could at least indulge me to make the time pass by faster.”
“Do I look fucking stupid to you? I know exactly where indulging you leads us.”
Camilla didn’t even deny it.
“Plus,” he added quickly, “we’re almost there.”
“Oh?”
“Yep. So shut your pretty mouth, and behave for ten more minutes.”
Her pout damn near had him yanking the car over to the side of the road. He could have given her something to really pout about then. He bet his girl would still like it, and beg for a hell of a lot more.
Tom chose not to tell any of that to Camilla because he knew exactly where that would lead them to, as well. She would take it as a challenge, and before he knew it … sex it would be. Maybe the two of them were just predictable in that way, but he still loved it.
Still, he had shit planned for them today. He intended to get it all done regardless of how good a roadside fuck—or even road-head—sounded.
“You just … sit there.”
Camilla rolled her eyes. “And behave.”
“And that.”
“I’ll remember you told me that later.”
“You are due for a hard fuck and a nice red ass.”
Camilla preened. “Promise to put your silk ties to good use, too, and I’m in.”
Yep.
Pure filth.
Tom hadn’t lied. They arrived at their destination in a little under ten minutes. The brand new gated Melrose Park community was just beginning to be filled with newly built homes. Expensive, beautiful two- and three-level homes on sprawling acreages. Tucked away in Melrose Park, the community was removed from the bustle and noise, but still close enough that it wasn’t a long trip for work or otherwise.
There were still several lots in the community for purchase, as far as Tom knew, but they were getting picked up fast. All in all, the community would hold thirty homes on a grandeur scale. One of the many benefits of having money.
Camilla perked up in the passenger seat of Tom’s Mercedes. She peered out of the window as they passed one home with humongous marble stairs leading to an even grander entrance of a three-level home.
“Where are we?” Camilla asked.
“Cornerstone Park,” Tom said. “An up and coming gated community inside Melrose. Anyone making less than a couple of million a year is not a good fit.”
“Meaning they can’t afford it?”
“Yeah.”
“Are we visiting someone, or something?”
“Or something,” he replied.
Camilla shot him a look, but Tom only winked in response. They continued driving until Tom came to the very last lot in the community. One that toted the rawest acreage at a total of four.
Tom pulled the car over. “Do you want to go for a walk with me?”
“To do what, Tom?”
“Look around, I guess.”
“At what, trees?”
He laughed. “City brat.”
“Hey, I did grow up in Newport, thanks.”
“My bad.”
“Mmhmm. And don’t forget it.”
Tom chuckled, and turned off the engine. “Get out of the damn car, Cam.”
He exited the vehicle, and rested his arms on the roof while Camilla peered around once she too was out of the car. She bent down to pick up a couple of wildflowers growing just beyond the newly poured sidewalk.
Tom used her momentary distraction to grab an item out of the back of the car. He palmed the large blue tube, and shifted it from one hand to the other as he rounded the car.
Camilla glanced over her shoulder at him, and spied the item. “Is that … blueprints?”
“Maybe. Care to look inside for me?”
Tom offered the two foot long tube to her. Camilla cocked a single brow high as she plucked the tube from his outstretched hand. She cracked the seal open on the one end, and tipped the tube over to pull out the brand new set of blueprints that had been safely stored inside. Keeping one curious eye on him, she quickly unraveled the blueprints.
He waited, silent and still, as Camilla looked over the document. Plans for a three-level monster of a home. One with marble pillars supporting an overly large entrance, over-sized rooms made for royalty, and a grandiose foyer with not one, but two spiraling staircases leading to the upper levels of the home. Ten bedrooms. Twelve bathrooms. A six-door garage, and an indoor pool.
“Wow,” Camilla said. “This looks amazing, Tom.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, for sure. I love it. When did you have these done up?”
“A couple of months ago.”
After he spoke with her father at that business meeting, he grabbed up the last lot when his father brought the new community to his attention. He had put a rush on the building plans.
Tom wanted to show Camilla something tangible about their future, and that he wanted one with her.
Camilla turned around so that her back was facing Tom. She glanced between the spread out blueprints in her hands, and the raw land up ahead.
“Did you pick a spot for the house, yet?” she asked.
Tom strolled forward, and pulled another item from his inner jacket pocket. Keeping the small box hidden from Camilla’s view as he joined her side, he gestured to the far side of the lot where a small stake was sticking up. It had been painted bright orange so it was easy to see.
“Over there, actually.”
“Why there?”
“Because then our bedroom windows will face the rising sun in the morning. I know you like morning light when you’re getting ready for the day, and whatnot.”
Camilla turned to him with a question burning in her brown eyes, but Tom was already kneeling to the ground. Her gaze darted fast between his grin, and the black velvet box he had popped open. Resting in the middle of his palm, the box held his mother’s engagement ring. The three carat princess cut diamond rested on a crown of smaller diamonds on top of a white gold band.
“I know things are crazy sometimes, and we’re busy a lot,” Tom said.
Camilla sucked in a shaky breath. “A little bit, yeah.”
“But I think you also know that changes nothing for me and you. Whether it’s now, or ten years from now, I’m going to want the same thing for us.”
“We always find a way, don’t we?”
“We do.”
Camila waved a single hand over her face. “Don’t you dare make me cry, Tommaso.”
“Not your style, huh?”
“Nope.”
Except her eyes were welling with unshed tears, and she was damn close to letting them start falling down her cheeks.
“Marry me, Camilla. Be my wife. Give me forever.”
“You didn’t even have to pose it as a question. You already knew, Tom.”
“Indulge me, Cam.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she whispered.
His lips were on hers before she had even finished her sentence. He made sure to quickly wipe the few tears that had escaped from her eyes away because like she said … crying just wasn’t her style. Even if they were happy tears.
He could have done some grand show, or made a bigger speech out of the whole thing, but that wasn’t his style. His love for Camilla wasn’t for others to indulge their need for a happy ending, and this had been a long time coming.
Love didn’t like to wait.
Their love had taught him that.
Six months later …
“It’s a shame we couldn’t have had the wedding in Chicago.”
“Ma,” Tom said, giving his mother a side-long look to quiet her.
Tommas chuckled as he passed his wife by in the church’s private room. “Don’t start with that old whine again today, Ella. It’s the bride’s day, and you know it. You will have your own brides to throw the biggest weddings for in Chicago someday.”
Abriella clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes upward. “I was just saying. Then maybe more of our family could have been here for Tommaso.”
“And then where would that have left Camilla’s family?” his father asked.
“Well …”
“Exactly,” Tommas said when his wife couldn’t come up with a suitable answer. “This is the young woman’s last day living in New York—her last day of being able to wake up, and know her family is just a short drive away in any direction. I think bending to her one wish of having the wedding here is not such a big deal at the end of the day.”
Tom’s mother sighed, but still smiled. “No, I guess not.”
“You’re tying that wrong, Tommaso.”
He grumbled under his breath at his father’s correction. Tommas pretended like his son hadn’t said a word as he came over to fix the knot on Tom’s tie.
“It’s not wrong,” Tom said, “just crooked.”
His father glanced at him curiously as he worked the light gray silk into a perfect, straight knot. “You know how to tie one of these.”
He did.
He was just …
Fumbling.
Jittery.
Stumbling.
Stuttering.
“Ah,” his father said like he could read Tom’s mind. “You know, on the morning I married your mother …” Tommas trailed off, and placed his hands to his son’s shoulders. “I put my shoes on the wrong feet twice. I also suddenly forgot how to tie my laces. Damian saved the day for me, and never spoke about it again.”
“You never told me about that,” Abriella said from the other side of the room.
Tommas never looked away from his son. “Abriella was the one thing I was most sure of in my life, and there I was on our wedding day … fumbling like an idiot because of my nerves.”
Tom laughed, and some of the edginess bled away. His father patted his cheek, and gave him a nod.
“I’m proud of you, son.”
“Are you?” he asked.
“Of course. How could I not be?” Tommas chuckled, saying quickly, “Oh, sure, you made some things difficult for me these past couple of years, but you taught me important things, too. About being a good boss, and a good father. I love you, my boy. My blood, huh?”
Tom nodded. “Yeah, Dad.”
Tommas let him go, and checked his watch. “Shit, Ella. We’ve got thirty minutes to make sure the girls are finished getting ready, and take our places.”
“Oh, calm down. Not everything is a rush, Tommy.” Abriella stopped at Tom’s side to cup his jaw in her hand, and kiss his cheek. “I love you, Tommaso. You did well with her. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course, Ma.”
Abriella winked, and patted his cheek harder than his father had. “And don’t you forget it.”
How could he?
Tom’s whole life had been spent watching his parents together, and loving. An exceptionally strong man, and an equally strong woman who lived their love honestly, and openly. It had been them who taught him that the tough, difficult women were the ones most worth loving. They made life fun.
“Come on, Ella,” his father said, waving at the now opened door.
“You’re so impatient,” Abriella muttered as she left her son’s side.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“And why didn’t you tell me about our wedding day? Don’t think I forgot just because five minutes passed, either.”
“Oh, my God, Ella,” his father groaned as the two headed into the hallway. “You don’t need to know everything.”
“Yes, I do, Tommy! Every little last thing.”
“You’re ridiculous. I hope you know that.”
“Yes, and who made me this way?”
Tom shook his head, and walked over to close the door. It drowned out the bickering of his parents. Still, their pseudo argument comforted Tom, and reminded him of years gone by. It also helped to settle the last of his nerves.
He was back in front of the mirror to tuck in the matching pocket square, and straighten the cufflinks on his sleeves. It wouldn’t be long before someone came to get him to help settle his over-excited sisters before they had to make their appearance down the aisle. Even though that’s where his parents had been headed to deal with the girls, Sara and Rebeka likely wouldn’t calm down until it was Tom talking to them, and explaining one more time why this day was so important for him.
A knock on the private room door took his attention away from the mirror momentarily. Seemed like he wasn’t going to get any time alone, apparently.
“Just a minute,” he called out.
Tom’s gaze went back to the mirror. Whoever it was behind the door didn’t want to wait, as they just opened it right up and slipped inside.
He froze as the most beautiful woman wearing the most amazing dress slid into the room. Camilla shot him a grin as she closed and locked the door behind her. His gaze traveled down over the ivory-colored, lace mermaid-style gown she wore.
It was the very first time he was seeing the dress she had picked for their day. It fit her like a glove—hugged every single one of her curves perfectly, and made his mouth dry at the sight. Capped sleeves, a modest bodice, and a very low-cut back.
She had lost the mermaid hair about a month ago, and went to a brown shade that she swore was as close to her natural color as she could remember. The wild, messy curls had been swept up in a high up-do for their day.
He wondered how long the brown would last.
Her makeup had been done up in that same edgy way, too, with crystals along the cut line of her brow, and dark kohl on her eyes. Today, though, she wore a lighter color lipstick.
Tom turned away from the mirror as he finally gained enough bearings to talk again. “What are you doing in here, Cam?”
She shrugged as she strolled across the room. “I finally got to sneak away from August for five minutes. She’s a fucking tyrant.”
“She’s your Maid of Honor. It’s her job to keep you, and everyone else, in line and on time today.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got maybe ten minutes before she figures out where I went. So, let’s make this quick, Tom.”
“Quick—what?”
She grabbed for him, and pulled him in for a kiss. The kind of kiss that made his dick hard, and a groan fighting its way out of his chest. It left no room for question about what she wanted. Hell, he could taste the promise of sex on his tongue.
“You didn’t think I was going to wait forever to see you in your tux, and then wait until tonight to get you the fuck out of it, did you?”
Tom laughed. “I’m not surprised, no. You look …”
Camilla blinked up at him. “What, Tom?”
“So beautiful, babe.”
Her smile bloomed wide and sinful. “Don’t ruin my makeup, and make it quick but good, okay?”
“I’ll take that challenge.”
They were five minutes late for their wedding.
Her makeup was fine and they were still out of breath when they took their places. Laughter rumbled through the pews when someone said they were found together in an upstairs room.
It was worth it.