Calisto
Calisto had only stepped out of the SUV when the front door of the large Donati home was thrown wide open. He circled the front of the vehicle, his son in his arms. It wasn’t safe to drive while carrying an infant, to be sure, but he hadn’t exactly had a choice.
Snuggled against his father’s chest, seemingly unbothered by the cool wind whipping through the air thanks to his thick blanket, Cross slept. A tiny, pink thumb was stuck firmly in his mouth, while his other fisted his blue blanket and kept it close to his face.
The softest cry—aching and relieved at the same time—carried over the large front lawn as Calisto came up to the walkway. He glanced up, finding Emma waiting in the entryway of the home. Wolf stood beside her, a hand on her shoulder as if to keep her in place.
Calisto didn’t want to make a scene—he was sure there were people watching from their homes, given the time, and the fact that his SUV was anything but quiet. Also, he was a Donati, and everybody knew who lived in the Donati home. It wasn’t like they were afforded a great deal of privacy.
Even still, he sped up his walk, knowing how worried Emma must have been as she waited for days to have her son back—his son.
Calisto held the baby boy a little tighter, brought him higher where he could smell the familiar scent of his child, and ran his palm over Cross’s tiny head. He didn’t even stir.
Emma’s arms were already reaching for the baby boy the moment Calisto’s foot hit the bottom step. “Can I—oh, let me have him, please?”
He didn’t really want to let Cross go, but he’d been holding him for a while. So without argument, he let Emma take their son into her embrace. He shielded her from the view of whoever might be watching as she lifted her son high enough to snuggle him, kiss him, and breathe his little life in. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she couldn’t seem to catch a breath.
Calisto knew that feeling all too well.
“He’s all right,” Calisto found himself saying.
He wasn’t sure why.
Emma met his gaze, her tears still falling. “You’re sure?”
“He didn’t even have a dirty diaper, Emmy.”
She nodded, but still held Cross closer to her chest like someone might reach out and snatch him from her again. The bluish, black bruise beginning to form under her right eye, and the one coloring up her left cheek, reminded him of exactly why that was.
The girl was willing to take a beating to try and protect her child.
Calisto loved her even more for it. But he would make damn sure that she didn’t ever have to experience that again. Certainly not by his hands, or anyone else’s, if he could help it.
“We should go inside,” Calisto suggested, “and get him out of this cold air.”
Emma agreed, but surprised him when she reached out a hand, waiting for him to take it. Calisto hesitated, but only because he was scared. All of his feelings for Emma, the things they had done, and the strange relationship they’d shared, would never be acceptable to people in their lifestyle. He was terrified that their actions would lead them down a path neither of them wanted to go.
Still, he took her hand.
He would figure something out.
For right then, at that moment, she just wanted to hold him.
So he gave that to her.
Once they were inside the house, and the door was closed, Calisto went about removing his suit jacket and kicking off his shoes. All the while, he felt Emma’s eyes on him as she murmured sweetly to the sleeping baby in her arms.
“I’ll go make some coffee,” Wolf said.
Calisto nodded at the Capo, grateful. “That sounds … like it’s exactly what I need.”
“I bet, boss.”
Boss.
There wasn’t even a question there.
Wolf didn’t even bother to ask about Affonso, it was like he just knew.
“Why don’t you get the little one settled in?” Wolf asked. “I’ll be ready to chat business when you are.”
Calisto understood Wolf’s thinly-veiled words. Affonso was gone, and it would be best to make sure it was known to the rest of the men in their family as soon as possible. Even if the story Calisto planned on telling was nothing more than a bunch of lies.
He still had to protect himself, his son, and Emma. It was selfish, in a way, but Calisto figured after everything, they deserved to be happy.
The second Wolf had disappeared down the hallway, Emma turned on Calisto.
“Does he …?” she trailed off, questioning.
“He knows enough,” Calisto said. “I trust him.”
She hugged Cross’s swaddled form closer. “Thank you.”
Unable to stop himself any longer, Calisto crossed the small space between them. His fingers found the spot under her chin, and he tipped her head up so that he could claim her mouth. The kiss started out slow and soft, gentle swipes of their lips moving soundlessly together. And then he felt more tears slide down her cheeks, he wiped them away as fast as he could, and kissed her a little harder until she was gasping for a breath.
“Do not ever thank me for protecting what I love,” he murmured.
Emma blinked, wetness coating her lashes. She let out a shaky sigh, her hand coming up to stroke his jaw. “I love you, Cal.”
That was the one and only thing that was important to Calisto.
Anything else was small.
Emma and their son were everything.
Everything that mattered.
Calisto leaned in the doorway of the nursery, watching as Emma leaned over the crib, and trailed her fingers through the dark tufts of Cross’s hair. The baby had woken up shortly after they arrived, demanding to be fed and changed.
God, Calisto swore his son smiled when he saw his mother.
Like he’d been waiting for her.
Nothing felt better than that.
Now, however, Cross was tucked into his crib, safe and sound. He was fed, changed, and Emma even gave the baby a bath. There was nothing more that needed done for him, as he was content to sleep at least until he woke up hungry again, but Emma couldn’t seem to leave his side.
“Emmy?” Calisto asked.
Emma didn’t turn around. “Yeah?”
“He’s fine, amore.”
“I know.”
“Let him sleep.”
Emma cupped the baby’s chubby cheek and swept her thumb across his skin. “He is sleeping.”
“Emma, the baby cameras are on him, the house is locked up tight, and I have people outside the door.”
She let out a heavy breath, never once turning away from the baby.
“He’s safe,” Calisto promised.
He suspected that was the majority of her issue. She was probably terrified that if she turned around, someone was going to come and take her son away from her again.
“No one is coming for him, Emmy,” Calisto said softly.
Her shoulders dropped. “I tried so hard to keep him safe from Affonso, you know? And then he just … ripped him away from me like it all meant nothing. I felt so useless—useless for Cross.”
“You are far from useless. You did what you could, sweetheart. And I am more thankful than you know for what you’ve done this last year.”
Emma nodded once, but he could tell by the expression of her profile that she wasn’t entirely convinced.
“You saved him and me, Emmy,” Calisto added after a moment. “You do realize that, don’t you? By doing what you had to do, no matter the cost, you saved us.”
“I only loved you both,” she replied quietly, and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “That was all, Calisto. Even when it killed me inside, I loved you both.”
“I’m sorry it was so difficult, but it won’t be like that now.”
Emma didn’t respond, but he knew she heard him just by the way her gaze softened as she stroked Cross’s cheek again. The sleeping baby boy seemed fully content where he was, and so did his mother. Calisto didn’t want to pull Emma away from his son if that’s where she really wanted to be right then. Deep in his heart, he could feel a tugging sensation that demanded he be closer to Cross, too, but for the moment, he simply wanted to clear his head for the days to come.
He would have a lifetime with his son.
Emma had felt like hers had been prematurely ripped away before he stopped it.
“Emmy?”
“Yeah, Cal?”
“When you’re feeling ready to leave him be, Wolf will stand outside his door until he wakes up. I’ve already asked him to stay a while. He agreed.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“He’s safe, I promise.”
“Right now he is.”
“Forever, Emmy.”
God, Calisto hoped Emma believed it.
The water wasn’t hot enough for Calisto’s needs. He turned the cold water knob down a little more, feeling that fresh sting of scalding water hit his back and shoulders. It made him hiss at first, but it felt damn good, too. He wanted to wash away the day—the shit he had done. He didn’t regret it, and he never would, but he still felt as if he were in the mindset of then and not the now.
That was a problem.
So he turned the water hotter, and washed the blood from his hands. He prayed under the spray, his lips moving silently, and his hands pressed against the shower tiles.
There was one second—one weak, passing thought—when he almost wished that things could have been different. That maybe his life could have been different, and his paths could have been easier ones to travel. He only thought of that for the simple reason that he hated to see someone he loved suffer.
Someone like Emma.
Someone like his mother.
Someone like Father Day.
Or even his son.
Those were burdens he wore like a noose tightening around his throat. In one way or another, Calisto always ended up causing someone he loved to suffer in some way. Each time his mother looked at him, she had to have seen Affonso staring back, her attacker reflected in her own son’s eyes. And then with Emma, he had been too stupid, too weak, and too selfish to let her go when he knew he should.
Somewhere inside, he was scared that he might end up doing the same thing to his son someday. He’d never given much thought to children, but he hadn’t not thought about them, either. Now he had a child of his own, one that needed him to love him, keep him safe, and give him all the things he needed to be a good human being.
That was something Calisto could thank his mother for doing where he was concerned. Had she left his raising mostly up to Affonso, there was no telling how he would have turned out.
Terribly, likely.
Worse than he was. And as it was, Calisto already felt like a monster.
Did love justify suffering?
Would it ever justify pain?
Calisto wasn’t sure that fixing mistakes and giving futures that would have been otherwise lonely and obsolete was enough to make up for the suffering.
But he had chosen this path—it was the right one for him. Emma, his son, and his famiglia … how could it be wrong?
As someone had once told him, he would find his way back to the right path eventually, but it would be a journey to get there.
Calisto sincerely hoped the worst of it was over.
“I’m sorry.”
The soft statement took Calisto by surprise as he turned fast on his heel to find Emma standing in the doorway of the spare bedroom. She hugged her middle tightly, and kept her gaze on the floor.
“You know I hate that, don’t you?” he asked.
Emma glanced up at him. “Hate what?”
“When you do that—act like you can’t look at me, or that I won’t want to see you for whatever reason. It’s almost like every man in your life has made it his job to make you feel some kind of worthless about yourself, and I fucking hate that.”
“I didn’t realize that’s how you see it.”
Calisto shrugged, and dropped the cotton T-shirt to the chair. He was going to get dressed for bed after his shower, but Emma had interrupted his process. He didn’t mind.
“There’s a lot of different sides to you, Emmy. And every time I look at you, I see a different one. There’s the housewife who never wears anything too bright, and her makeup and hair is always perfect. There’s the young woman who is still just stumbling into adulthood, and can sometimes be a little selfish and a brat. There’s the mob boss’s daughter, and the wife of a Don. I’ve seen the woman who’s taken a slap to the face, and the one who’s turned her cheek to awfulness.”
Calisto took a deep breath and continued, “I’ve seen the mother you wanted to be, the heartbroken mother who lost her babies, and the mother you are now. I’ve seen you as a friend, a wife, a daughter, a woman, and a lover. Sometimes it’s hard for me to pick the one I like the most. I love the Emma that wears red lipstick and smirks when she flips life off. I like the Emma that doesn’t care if her dresses are above her knees and if her heels are high enough to make me take another look. I love you, and you don’t need to be anybody else.”
Emma wet her lips, still keeping her arms locked around her middle like she was holding herself together. “You always say the right things.”
“I say honest things. They might not always be comfortable words, sometimes I’m too blunt, I know, but they are truthful. I will always give you the truth, Emma.”
“I’m still sorry,” she said, adding quickly, “for earlier, Cal. I know you were just trying to help and reassure me that Cross was fine if I left him, but I felt like such a fuck up. So I didn’t want to leave him again even for a second.”
“You’re not—that boy loves you, huh?”
“He better. I spent hours pushing him out.”
Calisto laughed hard and loud, needing the amusement to cleanse his soul. The hot shower and praying just hadn’t been enough to make him feel better, but Emma had done it with one single sentence.
It wasn’t even the first time this woman had done that. Calisto was not the laughing type, but he could distinctly remember—and he was so grateful that he could remember them—times when her blunt crassness that seemed so out of character had stopped his over-thinking mind and forced him into a better, joyful place.
“Thank you,” Calisto said as he calmed.
Emma grinned, her arms falling to her sides. “For what?”
“Being you, dolcezza. Nothing more.”
“I love you, Cal.”
Silently, he held out a hand to her, drawing her closer until he could hug her tight, and hide her face into his chest. Closer was better. With Emma, closer would always be better. In his embrace, she trembled, but he just held her tighter.
It was over—all of the nightmares that kept her awake at night.
She could be loved the way she should have been from the start.
He could do that for her.
Calisto cupped her cheeks, wiped away the tear streaks, and kissed away her frown until a beautiful smile bloomed. “I love you, Emmy.”
He had never spoken truer words.
He probably never would again.
Five months later …
“Well, boss, what of it?” Wolf asked.
Calisto gave his right-hand man a small smile, but his attention was on the baby boy in his lap. “Everything is perfectly fine, man.”
“Fine as in you have it handled, or fine as in you will handle it?”
Honestly, Calisto wasn’t sure.
It was a big step.
One he’d worked his people and men into slowly.
Emma, that was.
And whatever relationship he wanted to have with her.
Calisto’s only goal was to make sure his lover was safe from judgment and shame after the story circulated of her husband running off with his only word of doing so being the divorce papers he left behind. Emma needed someone to care for her, her son, and her home. He was the one to do that, and while it looked innocent enough, that didn’t stop people from talking.
He couldn’t have that.
And so, he’d worked into it all with care. Never staying the night, always being appropriate and respectful in front of others, and never allowing even the slightest hint of affection to be shown toward Emma from him when they were in public.
Then, those things had started to change. He stayed the night, he took her out, and he allowed people to talk.
To an extent.
Now, Calisto had a choice to make—a big one.
“I have a few months,” Calisto said.
“The Commission is a stickler for rules.”
Calisto blew out a quiet breath, knowing Wolf was right. The Commission—a group of North American crime syndicates that made up a ruling table of bosses—would be meeting soon, and it would be Calisto’s first time attending. To be considered for a seat at the table as Affonso had once been, he needed to do one simple thing.
Have a wife.
He only wanted Emma, but Calisto wondered …
Was it too soon?
Would it cause a problem?
Did he even care if it did?
“Wake up,” Calisto murmured against Emma’s neck.
She mumbled something unintelligible, giggling into her pillow when his fingers tickled up her side under the covers. She was naked—all soft, warm skin under his fingertips.
Christ.
He loved her like that first thing in the morning.
“Where is—”
“Cross is still sleeping—heavily, I might add.”
Emma sunk further into the bed, sighing happily when Calisto’s hand sneaked in between her thighs to stroke her bare sex.
Hot.
Wet.
Tight.
Her pussy took two of his fingers in knuckle deep without protest, and her long, hard moan muffled into the pillow. Calisto couldn’t have her doing that—hiding her face and sounds. He liked them too damn much to let her keep them from him.
“No, no,” Calisto said, chuckling. “I want to see your face while I’m fucking you with my fingers, Emmy. Roll over.”
He didn’t have to tell her again. She obeyed his request, tipping her head back on the pillow so her hair was out of the way and he had the best view of the pleasure washing over her features. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, and his name fell from her mouth as he curled his fingers on every thrust, hitting that one spot that was sure to make her wetter than ever, and shaking all over by the time he was done.
“Are you going to come?” he asked.
“God, yeah.”
“Will you ride me then?”
Emma laughed a breathless, sweet tune. “All morning, Calisto.”
Or … at least until their son woke up.
“Then come, because I really want you riding me right now,” he demanded.
Another brutal thrust of his fingers, and then his thumb sliding up to press into her throbbing little clit, and Emma was flying high. There were many things Calisto loved in his life—watching Emma pant and cry her way through an orgasm first thing in the morning was high on that list.
“There we are,” he whispered.
Calisto didn’t even give Emma the chance to recover, or finish riding out the waves of her bliss. He pulled her up from the sheets without warning, and right on top of his own body. Hovering above him, she trembled and breathed deep, her hands circling around the hard, thick base of his cock to steady his length as she lowered down.
Oh, yes.
Wet.
Hot.
Tight.
She fit him like a fucking glove. So perfect.
Every little flex of her inner muscles hugging his dick made him want to pull her down on him the rest of the way until he was buried balls deep into her pussy and couldn’t think of anything else.
Silently, Emma pulled Calisto’s hand up toward her mouth, the one he’d used to fuck her with. As she started a slow, grinding rhythm on top of him, she sucked his fingers clean of her come.
Wet, red lips.
Sly smile.
Messy, wavy hair.
Silky skin.
All he could do was watch her, watch him.
His breaths came out in staccato beat, matching every push of her pubic bone against his groin. She never really lifted off his body, just moved their bodies together fast and hard, her legs tightening around his waist. The delicate line of her shoulders swayed with her movements, and her hair tumbled down over her chest, covering her breasts. With the blanket pooled around their waists, all he could really do was watch her, and feel it all.
It was a slow burn.
Sort of like they had been.
Through the haze of his lust, he said, “I’m going to marry you, Emmy.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Of course you are—all you have to do is ask, Cal.”
He asked.
After she’d fucked him dry, licked him clean, and did it all over again.
He asked.
They had always been a little dirty like that, anyway.
He loved that the best, too.
Two Months Later …
Calisto knocked on the door marked with a large, white satin bow, and took a single step back. He shifted the weight of Cross on his hip, letting the nine-month-old toddler chew on the very tip of his tie. He figured it didn’t matter much if Cross wrinkled it, considering it would be hidden by his jacket for most of the day, and underneath his vest.
He was more a dress shirt, tie, and slacks kind of man. He liked his leather shoes, sure, and cuff links weren’t half bad, either.
But for the most part, he didn’t do the three piece suit thing.
Today, Calisto did.
Today was important, though.
“Baaa, maaaa, gaaa, baaa, daaa,” Cross babbled, grinning a mostly toothless smile. He had a few teeth, all in the front, but his back ones were being stubborn. “Daa, daa, daaaa.”
Calisto glanced down the hallway, noting a few guests waiting to be let into the main floor of the venue so they could find a seat and sit down. Some looked his way at the loud babbling of his son.
As much as it pained Calisto to do it, he corrected Cross for the benefit of other ears that might be listening. “Zio, little man.”
“Daaa.”
Calisto sighed. “Yeah.”
It was harder on him than he thought, but it was for his son’s best interests, and Emma’s, that they keep all that had happened a secret. And so, what people knew were the details they stuck to, and didn’t allow anyone to dig any further into
Cross had a father—Affonso Donati—the bastard who had run off, abandoned his Cosa Nostra family, left his young wife with signed divorce papers, and a young baby and two step-daughters to look after. He had done so without a word to anyone, and Calisto was left cleaning up the mess.
Or, that’s how the story went.
It allowed Cross the ability to grow up without being looked at as the product of an affair, as a literal betrayal in the flesh. He would never be looked down upon because of how he had been brought into the world. He would be loved and adored all the same, with a mother and step-father, who was also his uncle to the outside world, that would raise him together, as he deserved.
And Emma … Emma would never be called a whore, or mocked because of mistakes they had made together. She would never be shamed for birthing a child that belonged to a man who wasn’t her husband.
She would still be respected as Calisto’s wife.
Because he was marrying her.
Today.
It was such an important day.
Balancing Cross on his hip once more, Calisto knocked again on the door, wondering why no one was answering. That time, he heard the heels click across the floor, and a smile instantly began to grow on his face even before she swung it open to reveal who was interrupting her time.
Emma’s eyes flew wide at the sight of Calisto and Cross waiting for her. The fitted, lace mermaid style wedding gown she wore was a blush cream and tight to every one of her curves. Calisto couldn’t stop his wandering gaze if he tried.
“You’re not supposed to be here!” she whispered.
Calisto’s gaze snapped back up to hers, and his grin deepened into a smirk. “Weren’t we in bed together last night?”
Emma reached out and smacked a hand over his mouth, quieting him instantly. He laughed under her sweet smelling palm, and kissed her skin. With a small smile, and happy eyes, she let him go, reaching for her son. Cross’s arms were already wide and wanting his mother.
“Maaa, maaa,” the baby babbled.
“Someone was being demanding about wanting to see you,” Calisto said. “He gets antsy when you’re gone for too long.”
“You couldn’t send him over with someone else? You have a room across the church to stay in.”
Maybe so.
But …
“Maybe someone else was getting antsy, too,” Calisto said quietly.
He was always like that with her now, and with Cross, too. The longer he was away from one or the other, the worse his attitude and restlessness became. He loved them far too much to be away from them. They were his place—his one good, safe, and happy place made just for him.
Emma pursed her painted red lips, leaned forward, and pressed a hard kiss to his mouth. She murmured against his lips, “I love you, but I will see you at the end, Calisto.”
His throat tightened.
She had no one to walk her down the aisle this time.
But she was free to choose, and she was choosing him.
Sometimes, even the bad guys won.
“At the end, Calisto,” Emma repeated. “I will find you there, I promise.”
He kissed her again, lingering for as long as he could.
“At the end, Emmy.”