35. Stefania

The oasis is lit up like a stadium in the middle of the night. All the house lights are on and there are bulbs strung between the trees, ringing the block in more light. The smell of cooking food floats in the air and music blares from a DJ booth set up outside of Laura's house. I can only imagine how much she hates that.

The block is packed. I'd guess at least a hundred people, probably more, are milling around the party, moving from table to table, taking free drinks from passed trays and laughing over conversations. Freddie's flitting around in a beautiful dress, looking absolutely stunning and extravagant, her warm and glowing smile making everyone feel at home.

There are dozens of Bianco soldiers on duty, patrolling the area, but most of them are being discreet.

I hang on to Davide's arm as we move through the people. He points out important members of the Famiglia, from Capos to lieutenants to related business owners. There are several local politicians and a few members of the police union mingling with straight-up thugs and shady capitalists. Anyone important is in the oasis tonight, and everyone's celebrating the return of Alessandro.

But he's still not Don. Simon's still in that role, and he's holding court at a central table, greeting and speaking with a rotating cast of wealthy and influential Chicago powerbrokers. Meanwhile, Alessandro's stuck in a wheelchair, shaking hands and looking like he wants nothing more than to pass out and sleep.

"I hope your dad's eating," I say to Davide as we watch him laugh at a joke and grimace at his discomfort, but his father's good about covering it up and playing politician. "He looks exhausted."

"Nobody wanted this," Davide says, pulling me close to his side. "But it's important. We need to show the city that we're still strong."

"I get that. Just feels terrible, you know? He's been back from the hospital for a few hours, and he's already throwing himself to the sharks."

"That's my father." Davide leans down and kisses my neck. "You look amazing, by the way. When I fuck you later, you better leave this dress on."

"Stop it," I say, blushing like an idiot, and we get pulled into yet another conversation with yet another rich guy I've never seen before in my life.

It's overwhelming, and I can only imagine how poor Alessandro feels. But Elena and Freddie stay by his side, and even Laura manages to glare her way through the crowd a few times to check on her father. Simon seems to be holding his own, and Davide's not exactly relaxed but he's at least not trying to kill anyone, which is a big positive. I do my best to smile and nod and play the doting wife, but the whole welcome back party feels so forced and unnatural.

I'm at the bar getting a glass of champagne when Freddie appears at my elbow. "You know, dear, I don't think I've seen you sit down all night."

"And I don't think I've seen you stop talking. Doesn't your face hurt from smiling?"

She laughs and shakes her head. "I'm just naturally friendly. This stuff is easy for me. I do my best to take on as much as I can for my poor husband."

"How's he feeling? Can't be easy."

"He hates the chair, of course, but otherwise I think he's glad that he's not stuck in a bed anymore." She leans up against my shoulder. "How's your husband?"

I glance at where Davide's in conversation with Simon and several of the other Famiglia men. "Tired," I tell her. "Angry. But holding it together."

"Thanks to you." She squeezes my arm. "Now I'd love it if you'd take a little break. It feels like all you've done is worry about Davide since the shooting."

"It's hard not to." I watch Davide's face tense as all the other men laugh at something Simon said. There's only the bare flicker of a smirk on his lips, but it doesn't reach his eyes; I swear, he barely ever laughs around anyone but me. I love that I can find his heart, but I wish he could figure out a way to be more comfortable in the world.

"You're a member of this family now too, you know," Freddie says, "and I want to make sure you're being taken care of. If you need anything and Davide's too thick and self-centered to notice, you come to me, okay?"

I look at her, a little surprised. Not at the offer—Freddie would probably give me a kidney if I needed one—but at the other thing she said. I'm part of the family now.

Technically, that's true. I'm Davide's wife, which means I'm a Bianco, but it's hard to picture myself as an insider with these people. They're so tightly knit together, and I'm always on the edge of their lives, watching as they rotate around each other.

But Freddie's saying I'm much closer to the center than I realized.

And it feels good.

So fucking good, in a way that shocks me.

"Thank you," I whisper.

She laughs and hugs me. "Did you just get emotional? Darling, it's okay. We love you. I thought that was obvious. You're so good for Davide, and he absolutely adores you, so of course you're important to us."

"I just—" I swallow against the tears. This isn't the time or place for crying. "I didn't know."

"Oh, sweetie. You didn't know how he feels about you? He's head over heels. He's practically floating when you're around."

I take a deep breath and look over. Davide glances in my direction, and for the first time since he started talking to his group of mafia friends, a real smile touches his lips, and he winks at me.

I feel my chest flush and fill with pride and something else.

Freddie hugs me and hurries off to talk with some state senator. I drink down a champagne, get another, and return to my husband's side. I spend the rest of the night with him, and I start noticing the little things. Like the way he laughs when I tell a joke, genuine laughter with his entire body, or the way he keeps staring at me when he thinks I'm not looking.

I knew Davide liked me. We have really freaking good chemistry in bed, which is pretty nice, and I've been developing feelings for weeks. But now it's so obvious that he feels the same way.

When the party winds down, I find myself leaning against him, feeling sleepy. I drank a little too much, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"You were talking to my mom earlier," he says, scanning the thinned-out crowd. "How'd that go?"

"Good," I say, perking up a little. "She says you adore me."

He doesn't miss a beat. "That's because I do. Oh, look, Laura's yelling at the DJ."

And sure enough, his little sister is shouting for the DJ to, in her words, shut the fuck up with your stupid iPad bullshit and end this travesty of a party, but I'm still hung up on what he just so casually admitted.

He adores me. He genuinely adores me.

I pull his face to mine and kiss him. He seems surprised, but doesn't resist. The bastard never resists when I want my lips on his.

"What's that for?" he murmurs. "Not that I'm complaining."

"I adore you too." I kiss him again. "I really, really adore you."

"I know you do, baby." He smirks and hugs me tight. "Did you drink too much?"

"No. Yes. A little. But this is real."

"Don't worry, when you wake up tomorrow morning with a headache, I won't tease you too much. But I am going to take advantage of your intoxicated state tonight. This is your chance to opt out."

I shiver with excitement and bite his chin. "I am very much opting in."

"Good girl."

He kisses me and holds my hand as he drags me from the party only moments before Laura flips over the DJ table, signaling the end of the night.