Chapter 25 MICELI

"Tell me if anyone does it again and I'll set them straight, Fi."

I don't tell the teenager that the shortened form of his name has become as close to a term of endearment as I'll ever use with my brother, the don.

"Tell your cousin how we met in Portland," I instruct Róise as I guide the car down the long driveway. Allessio and his team are in the car ahead of us and my usual security team is in the car behind us.

Once we are married, Róise will never go anywhere without two teams.

"We met at the club," Róise says shortly and then makes an obvious attempt to change the subject. "You mentioned a cat carrier. We'll have to buy one on the way to the shelter. I doubt they sell them."

"They provide cardboard carriers with a suggested donation, but we won't be using one."

"We're stopping at a pet store on the way?" Fiona asks, her tone a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

"I bought one already. It's in the trunk." Along with everything else the retired enforcer turned pet store owner that I consulted told me Róise would need.

Apparently, a cat bed is just the beginning.

"That was nice of you." Róise sounds suspicious.

What does she think? I'm going to hold the kitten supplies in ransom for a kiss?

Memories of her lips moving under mine are having a predictable effect on my libido. This woman gets to me like no other.

I want more than a kiss from my reluctant fiancée though.

Cazzo .

"I can be nice." When it benefits me.

Not needing to have a Long Island pet store cleared of customers while the security detail mans the perimeter like what will happen shortly at the shelter is definitely a benefit.

The fact the cat carrier is pink and a special order? That's just polite. It matches the cat bed.

"Okay, Rosy. Time to spill," Fiona says from the backseat.

"You're not putting the kittens in the trunk." Róise is not giving up.

She wants to avoid this conversation.

Which leads to the question why? What is she hiding? She must realize I'm not going to bring up the amazing sex at my hotel.

"We met at a club owned by the Greek mafia." Patience is not my strong suit.

It might not even be a suit in my closet.

"Nuovi Inizi is owned by the Greek mafia? Helios is connected?" The shocked whisper from the passenger seat is barely discernable.

But I hear it.

"You didn't know?" I ask.

"No."

"Miceli was that guy?" Fiona asks in clear disbelief. "Did you tell Kara and not me?"

Róise gasps and throws her hands over her face. "Did you have to tell her?"

Definitely. I definitely had to tell her cousin, especially if the knowledge is going to garner this kind of reaction.

"I was that guy," I agree.

Fiona's reply is a burst of loud laughter. "No way." More laughter and she hits the back of the seat. "You went three thousand miles…" Gasps and giggles. "And drugged your guards only to end up getting your cherry popped by the one man you were determined not to give your virginity to?"

Drugged her guards? What the actual fuck? She's more of a menace to her own safety than I thought. Not only did she give her detail the slip, but if she'd gotten in trouble, they were too incapacitated to help her.

"We'll talk about this later," I warn her.

When her innocent teenage cousin isn't listening to every word and my temper isn't so close to going nuclear.

"I can't wait," Róise mutters. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Kara doesn't know."

"She will in a minute," Fiona says.

"No, don't text her…crap!"

I'm guessing the text got sent .

"Serves you right for hiding that from me and Kara. We tell each other everything," Fiona says. "But why are you so mad about marrying the guy? According to you he's hung lik—"

"Fiona Moira Shaughnessy!" Róise's shout cuts her cousin's words off.

But there's no doubt what she was about to say. Hung like a horse. Not a bad description. I would like it better coming from Róise's mouth and not her younger cousin's though.

"I'm just saying…"

"Don't. Don't say. Don't speculate. Just…think about kittens."

"Um, yeah, kittens are exactly what I'm thinking about. I'm seventeen, not seven, Rosy."

"You're amazing and I love you, but can we please talk about something besides…besides…"

"Our sex life," I help out.

"Aargh!" That is Róise. "We don't have a sex life. We had a single night when we didn't know who the other person was."

"Eww…if you put it that way…just eww." Fiona's voice is soaked in disgust.

I smile. My job here is done.

The thought brings me up short. This is the way things used to be with me, Sev and Giulia, our sister. But that was ten years ago. None of us can indulge in that kind of byplay anymore.

Except, it looks like I can with my too young fiancée and her even younger cousin.

Managgia la miseria . Róise has been of legal age to drink for less than a week.

"Watch out, your face might freeze that way," Fiona teases me.

Me. Miceli De Luca. Genovese underboss and all around badass. Is being teased about the frown freezing on my face by a teenager.

What the hell is happening to my life?

Thirty minutes later as Róise cuddles the biggest full size cat I have ever seen, I ask myself that question again.

"That's a lot of cat. You might as well get a dog."

Róise covers the cat's ears. "Don't listen to him. He doesn't mean it. No dog could replace you."

"It has to be at least three feet long."

"She must have some Maine Coon in her mix," Róise says like that's a good thing. "Did you see how beautiful her babies are?"

Of course I have. Róise insisted on making me hold both of the kittens still left from the litter. Neither liked it any more than I did.

They must have sensed my antipathy. Or it was the scent of gun oil .

"Which of the kittens are you going to take?" I can hope that the offspring will not match the mother in size.

The kittens are curled together in a ball near Fiona's knee. She's sitting cross legged on the floor, rhythmically petting a skeletally thin full size cat.

"Rambo likes you. He's usually really skittish. He survived getting hit by the ricochet from a shooting, but he doesn't like most people and we can't get him to eat." The look the shelter worker gives the cat is filled with sadness. "It's too bad."

"Why too bad?" Róise asks sharply.

"The I.V.s the vet has to give him to get some nutrients in him won't sustain Rambo forever."

Fiona looks up frowning. "Can I try?"

"If you want, but don't be surprised if he refuses the food. It's not personal. Rambo doesn't trust anybody."

The giant fluffball Róise was holding is now following her like a dog, as she walks over to her cousin.

She has gotten some dry cat food from somewhere and she drops the nuggets into Fiona's hand. "Try with this, Fi."

The pathetic looking animal sniffs suspiciously at the food before starting to eat. He finishes everything in Fiona's hand and meows for more.

The shelter worker comes back from wherever she disappeared to.

She offers a small bowl of what looks like gruel to the teenager. "Here. See if you can get him to eat this too. It's nutrient dense and better for his stomach right now."

Of course, the cat eats the gruel. Because the quest to adopt two kittens has morphed into the two mob princesses bonding with the two least likely cats in the whole damn shelter.

Cazzo .

There is no leaving the kittens to be adopted by someone else either.

"We can't leave them without their mother." Fiona looks at me like I suggested euthanizing them.

I appeal to Róise with logic. "They would leave their mother if we took them home, just like their brothers and sisters."

"It's not the same." Róise looks at the shelter worker. "We'll do the paperwork for all four cats."

Four cats? Is she kidding?

"There's plenty of room in the mansion for them all."

Róise's words remind me that the animals will be Shaughnessy's problem, not mine. My arguments against adopting four animals go up in smoke .

"We'll give one of the kittens to Fitz. Every child should have a pet," Fiona says firmly.

"Did you?" I ask.

"Before…I had lots of pets," she replies.

Before what?

"Fiona used to bring injured or abandoned animals into the mansion all the time." Róise's tone is wistful. "It drove my grandfather right around the bend."

"Not your uncle?"

Róise shrugs. "He didn't notice much of what we girls were up to back then."

"After Aunt Charity and Uncle Derry died, mamo was our only real parent." Fiona pets the now sleeping cat in her arms. "She still is."

I'm not surprised by the sentiment, but her willingness to share it is something else. Róise looks shocked by the younger girl's words.

Apparently, this openness is not the norm for the fragile young woman.

We end up getting two of the cardboard carriers and putting both kittens in one and Fiona's shooting survivor in the other.

"And where is the other kitten going?" I ask.

" Mamo of course," both say in unison.

So, the only cat I have to worry about living with is the fluffy monster sitting to heel at Róise's feet. Does the creature realize she is feline and not canine?

On the way back to the Shaughnessy family estate, Fiona holds her cat in her lap, the top of the carrier open while she talks to him in a low voice, the words indistinguishable, the entire time.

Róise's giant mama cat is in the pink carrier and napping like the oversized princess she is.