Bastiano Romano: A Standalone Mafia Romance Novel (The Five Syndicates Book 4) by Parker S. Huntington (40)

“Everett!” Tessie shrieked.

She’d flown in yesterday, and the two had been fighting since they’d met yesterday for the first time in over five years. I’d converted one of the larger rooms into a bedroom for Everett, and she was bitter that it was nearly triple the size of her room.

“What did I do now?” Everett threw his head back and groaned. His dark hair frayed in every direction from when Tessie had tossed a pillow at his head earlier.

I let them fight it out as I read a book on the living room couch, a little amused by their antics. I’d gotten so used to the quiet in this house over the past five years that just a little bickering between the two of them made the entire penthouse feel vibrant.

Still, something felt missing. Like a thousand-piece puzzle with a missing center piece. I could still make out the picture, but it wasn’t right. I should have been happy. Elsa, as my private eye reported, worked the graveyard shift at a sanitary plant. Waylan, though I had no real grudge against him, had retreated to his ranch in silence. Ma let Tessie visit more often. Lucy and Asher finally had their honeymoon. Niccolaio and his girlfriend, Minka, had found happiness in each other, and Gio and I had been talking more often lately. Even Uncles Frankie and Eli seemed to be around more since Uncle Vince had passed away, and they realized how little time they’d been spending with the family. And Everett? He told me every day how happy he was.

And still, I missed Ariana.

I’d caved last month and looked up where she worked since she’d quit the FBI and had to force myself on a daily basis not to show up and take her away.

Tessie ran over to me from the piano. “Bastian, tell my nephew”—she’d never let Everett live down the fact that she was technically his aunt despite the small one-year age gap—“he’s a big shit head.”

I could tell her not to curse, but frankly, my brand of parenting included not giving a damn about stupid things that were bound to develop while living under my household, and Tessie was my sister, not my kid, anyway.

I dog-eared my book like a heathen and snapped it shut. “I could tell him that, but then I’d have to tell you that those pink sheets you think I just bought you are actually old white ones Luna accidentally threw in the washer with a red t-shirt.”

“You’re mean!” Tessie crossed her arms. “I liked it better when Ariana did my laundry.” She huffed out a breath. “There are too many boys here!”

Everett took a seat on the couch, using my side as a back rest. “When do I get to meet Ariana?”

I stared at the both of them, mulling over an answer.

Tessie answered for me, “When is she going to stop being mad at you?”

“I am mad at her,” I corrected.

“Well, that’s stupid.” She pushed Everett aside and took the seat between us. “Doctor Phil says, ‘There is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love.’”

Why was this my sister?

Just why?

Everett peeked around Tessie. “If there is no love without forgiveness, does that mean you can’t love, Daddy?”

Tessie turned to him. “Yes, it means he doesn’t love you.”

They started yelling at each other again, and though my hallucinations of Vincent had long since fled with sleep and food, I could imagine what he would say to me right now, words he’d said to me when I was a preteen: “If a mistake isn’t forgivable, you wouldn’t be mulling over it. Ever since you were little, you could always hold a grudge, but you know what I realized? You hold grudges because you care so much. It’s because your love runs so deep, it takes longer for the pain in it to escape.”

I swallowed the nostalgia and watched Tessie and Everett fight, telling myself to be grateful for these moments instead of the ones I knew I was missing out on without Ari. A knock sounded on the door. I swung it open for one of the security guards.

He handed me an envelope as he spoke, “A courier dropped this off a few minutes ago. He said it had been preordered months ago and scheduled for delivery today.”

I plucked it from his hands and unsealed it as he left. Vincent’s familiar handwriting met my eyes as I slid the thick card stock out.

Identity.

Four syllables.

A common word.

Easy enough to say.

But when it came to its definition, I spent most of my life unable to define it. I left the bureau knowing I needed to find myself if I ever wanted a life with Bastian. And I did. I’d spent the last two months working; browsing Netflix to figure out my likes and disliked; reading more genre fiction than I ever had before, fueling the loss of Bastian with mafia romance novels; and restaurant hopping all over the boroughs.

I had a better handle on myself. That didn’t mean I didn’t miss Bastian. It just meant that, when he was ready to forgive me, I’d understand myself better.

I huffed out a breath and squeezed the aches out of the back of my neck. Maybe fate was laughing at me because I’d struggled to find a job anywhere but here. The Dominic. The place I’d threatened to work for if Bastian refused to hire me all those months ago.

One of the servers, Carrie, raised her brows as she approached the bar. “Dominic is in a mood.” She made Devil horns with both of her hands.

I bit back my laughter, feeling carefree. I missed Bastian and Tessie every day, but I’d also been taking the time to discover myself. To take life one day at a time as I found out who I was outside of the FBI, trusting fate to bring me and Bastian back together again.

But I missed him.

God, I missed him.

I’d given him the file, slipping it under his penthouse house door when I knew he wouldn’t be home. It hadn’t been a hard choice. I knew it would help him find his happy ending, and like Vince, I had faith that Fate would bring us back together again.

I wished Fate would hurry up, though, because it’d been two months, I was falling in love with who I was outside of the bureau more and more each day, but there was always the knowledge that I’d be happier with Bastian dangling above my head.

Jupiter.

Ganymede.

I didn’t care which I was.

I just wanted to be Bastian and Ariana, two planets orbiting each other.

The Dominic’s hostess, Anna, met us at the bar, her brows drawn together as she looked at me. “You have a visitor outside. A man. A hot man.”

My heartbeat picked up, and I knew.

I just knew.

I glanced at the door but couldn’t see anything through the downpour flooding the streets. “But it’s raining.”

“I know.” She rolled her eyes and leaned her hip against an empty chair. “He’s been out there for hours. Dominic won’t let him in, and he finally let me come get you.”

A frown drew my brows together, and I tossed the tiny server’s notebook I’d been holding under the sink. I’d been working as a server instead of a bartender, but I didn’t mind.

I turned to Carrie. “Can you cover my shift?”

“Yeah, go.” She looked curious but held back from the questions I knew she wanted to ask as she waggled her brows. “A hot stranger. Please tell me the juicy story behind it. Later, though. I’ll take your shift for the night if you tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“Deal.”

I wore a stupid grin as I slid my coat on and opened the door to the uncovered patio. He sat on one of the tables, ignoring the chairs some of the staff had chained together at the canopied side to protect them from the rain. I studied his dark hair. Just how I’d remembered it. The eyes. The nose. The lips. The body. Everything looked just how I’d remembered, but it still tore the breath from my lungs.

“Hi,” I whispered.

Bastian crossed his arms, his lips curving into a smirk. “Is the service always this bad here?”

Always the asshole.

I couldn’t hold back my smile. I knew he’d come to me.

Fate.

Jupiter and Ganymede.

I didn’t know what we were, and I didn’t care as long as we were together.

I took a step toward him. “Maybe just for you. I think my boss hates you.”

His lips quirked up, even as water plastered his hair to his forehead. “I do own the restaurant that took all of his business.”

“Own?”

“I bought it from Asher.”

“Is that what you do now? Own a restaurant?”

It had been so hard for me to stay away from my phone and the internet, to not use my sleuthing skills to stalk him. I wanted to, but I also wanted to find myself, so when Bastian and I came together again, I’d be able to give him all of me.

“One of many things.”

“And the rest?”

“Do you always accost customers with such personal questions?”

“Only the hot ones.”

“In that case, hi. My name is Bastiano Romano, but you can call me Bastian.”

“Hi.” I wanted to grab his face and kiss him, but I refrained. Barely. “My name is Ariana De Luca. Are you mad at me?”

“I just met you. How can I be mad at you?” He continued as I rolled my eyes, but inside, everything tensed as I waited for his answer. “You gave me my son back. I could never be mad at you.”

Vince had found the noose to hang around Elsa. She hadn’t used a sperm donor. She’d slept with a man and had been paying him off to stay away from Everett since he’d been born.

“It wasn’t me. Vince arranged for me to get that folder after he died.”

“He was always three steps ahead, wasn’t he?”

“Try twenty-nine years.”

“One day, you’ll tell me what that means.”

I couldn’t stop staring at him.

The man who loved harder than anyone I’d ever met.

The man who opened his heart to me even though it had been trampled before.

The man who’d fallen in love with a kid who wasn’t his by blood and still sent a check every month to a woman he hated.

I took a step closer. “I’d like that.”

His predatory eyes watched me approach him, hooded, calling to me. “I cut Elsa off.”

“And Everett?”

“He’s with me. Has been for about two months now.”

“Are you happy?”

“Yes. Not as happy as I can be.” He hooked his foot around my ankle and drew me closer.

I caught myself with two palms on his chest. “I missed you, Jupiter.”

“What did you call me?”

“Jupiter.”

“I’m not Jupiter.” He shook his head. “Uncle Vince used to tell me the story of Jupiter and Ganymede. Ganymede revolves around Jupiter, hooked into its gravity, always near, always circling.”

I fought the pain building in my chest. “You’re not Jupiter?”

“No,” he said, gutting me, but then he pieced me back together, “You are.”