Chapter 7 Christmas Future

SAL

The hospital is under heavy guard for Catalina's labor. Our soldiers patrol the halls with double the security and zero access except to immediate family and Catalina's medical team on this floor.

There are snipers on the roof and a soldier with a rocket launcher to take out any unidentified helicopters.

I'm not sure how my nephew will circumvent accusations of terrorism if it gets used, but knowing Severu, he's got a plan in place.

Every single person in the hospital has been vetted, and those we couldn't verify have been moved to one of the mafia run clinics. No new patients will be taken in while Catalina is here either.

Severu is taking no chances with the safety of his wife and soon-to-be-born son.

The rest of the hospital is locked down like a military compound, but when I open the door to Catalina's suite, the air is filled with joyous expectation.

Severu is not out here with the rest of the family, but that is no surprise.

He will be at Catalina's side during the entire labor and delivery, and I doubt he will leave until he can take her and their baby home. I was the same with Ilaria when she gave birth to Salvatore.

Not that I had snipers on the roof or anything so elaborate. Nor did his father when Aria gave birth to him or Miceli. But Severu is a different man than any of us.

In some ways he is more ruthless and others more vulnerable to the emotions that he holds for his family.

Ilaria looks up and her smile, as beautiful as it was on at our wedding, is more unguarded than that day 34 years ago.

Having gone through what we did, she'll never pester our son and daughter-in-law about giving her grandchildren, but she's thrilled to become a great aunt again.

I return her smile and walk toward her as my phone rings. The ringtone indicates it's one of the capos.

I put my finger up and her eyes dim a little as I answer. "Go."

"Big Sal? It's Stefano. We've got a problem with one of our longtime clients refusing to continue paying tithe."

"Who?"

He says a name and I know why he called. The business owner is an old friend of Stefano's and the capo doesn’t want to come down heavy on him. But if I give the order, he can abdicate responsibility.

"Why are you calling me?" I demand, even though I know.

"I don't want to bother Miceli with it."

In other words, he's aware that Miceli is still pissed at him for the way Stefano treated his daughter. Candi.

Fuck, no wonder she doesn't want to use the name Kathleen. That was Stefano's mother's name.

"Why are you calling anyone? Do your f—" I stop the word that wants to come out of my mouth. "Do your job. If he wants to be exempted from our protection, then he knows what he has to do."

Move out of the building we own and that we control the rent on for the businesses housed there. Deal with the gangs and other syndicates on his own behalf and end up paying one of them a higher rate for a lot less protection. Get financing for expansion without our endorsement.

The list goes on.

Businesses pay us protection and it's not cheap, but it's not a one-way street. We give value for the tithe we expect them to skim off the top of their earnings.

"But he's been loyal so many years. Maybe we could renegotiate his terms."

Spinning on my heel, I storm out into the hall. "Did you just fucking say that to me?" I demand when I'm out of earshot of my wife.

Stefano blusters but I'm not in the mood.

The sadness Ilaria instantly hid as I turned away hits harder than it ever has. I brag she's the perfect mafia wife, but the truth is, she the perfect wife for me. Period.

No qualifiers.

Am I the perfect husband? Not so much.

But this old dog can learn new tricks.

"Come, on Big Sal," Stefano says like he's talking to an old friend. "You know Enzo always said to reward loyalty."

We've known each other for years, but friends we are not.

"Unless my brother has come back from the fucking dead and if he did, you wouldn't be his first visit, Miceli is your don, Bianchi. Do your fucking job or retire."

The man is still blustering when I hang up on him.

Turning my phone to silent so it will vibrate only, I slip it into my pocket. Any real emergency will hit Miceli first. I'm his advisor, not his underboss.

When I come back into the room, my wife, still as beautiful as the day we got married, remains seated in an armchair chatting with Aria, Bianca and Nerissa.

I'm sure the other women in the family's inner circle will show up soon enough.

Like she can feel my presence, Ilaria raises her head and her blue gaze meets mine.

There's a question in hers. Are you leaving?

I shake my head.

Her smile returns. "You made it, marito mio."

"This is her first baby. I could have come ten hours from now and still made it for the birth," I joke, but my chest is tight from Ilaria calling me her husband like that again.

She's been doing it more the past few days and whatever changed between us, I don't want to go back to living at a distance from the woman I love.

"God forbid!" Miceli exclaims fervently. "Sev's on the verge of killing someone and Catalina has only been in labor for three hours."

If only he knew, but I don't repeat my prediction. Maybe the baby will come quickly. If it doesn't, I wouldn't put it past my oldest nephew to demand Catalina have a C-section.

Severu wanted her to consider it because of her hip replacement, but her OB told her a vaginal delivery would be safe. The woman is only still breathing because it would have upset Catalina to change doctors.

I know this because my nephew has grumbled those very words several times over the last months.

"He's every bit as bad as you were," Ilaria says with a private smile just for me.

I was a pain in the ass in the delivery room. I wonder what Severu is acting like right now? If he's like me, he's demanding pain meds and ice chips for his wife.

We share a moment remembering the birth of our son. I watched Ilaria like a hawk her whole pregnancy and insisted on weekly visits with the OB from the beginning.

My nephews don't know how lucky they are that there are so many female doctors today.

Back then I had to suffer through watching another man touch my wife every appointment.

When her doctor put her on bedrest, I switched to working from the office in the penthouse to make sure she followed his instructions. I gave her our mansion on Long Island to celebrate the birth of our son.

After we adopted Nerissa, I bought Ilaria a vacation home in Martha's Vinyard. Every time we go, I have business to conduct with the Boston Cosa Nostra. The last two times I went, Ilaria didn't want to go with me, telling me that if she was going to spend time alone, she'd rather do it at home.

I didn't take the hint for a lot of reasons, but mostly because working is how I dealt with the grief of losing my brother. But I'm damn well not going to lose my wife to my own neglect.

My head is firmly out of my ass.

"Hey, pops." Salvatore lays a hand on my shoulder.

I turn and greet him with a kiss on both cheeks.

"I found that African violet you wanted to give Bianca for Christmas. It will be delivered via private jet in three days." I keep my voice low so the women don't overhear.

I learned a long time ago that my wife can keep track of her own conversation and any others within hearing distance at the same time. I've never assumed since then that the other women in my family couldn't as well.

"Thanks." Salvatore casts a familiar glance at Bianca, who is seated on the sofa with Nerissa.

Aria occupies the other armchair in the suite's outer room. Much like a hotel suite, there are two bedrooms, a full bathroom off the living area and one in the "bedroom" kitted out as a birthing room complete with ultrasound machine and whirlpool for Catalina to use during labor.

"What's that look for?" Salvatore asks.

"I would never have allowed your mother to sit in a whirlpool during labor."

My son grimaces. "Bianca keeps reminding me that this is all state of the art birthing shit, but I'm with you."

He drops his voice to a near whisper when he says shit and pride at the respect he shows the women in our family fills me. "You're a good man, son."

Salvatore's dark brows so like mine draw together. "Is something up? You're not sick and hiding it from mamma, are you?"

"Do you really think I could?" We both look over at Ilaria who turns her gaze to us with uncanny timing before lifting her own perfectly shaped brows in question.

I shake my head to tell her it's nothing, but she waits until Salvatore shakes his head too before looking away.

"Yeah, maybe not."

"She's proud of you too."

"I know. She treats me differently since Bianca came into our lives though." The tone of our son's voice makes it clear that by different, he means better.

"Your wife has helped Ilaria see both of us through different eyes." I hope my son can hear the gratitude I feel for that in my voice. "You couldn't have chosen a better woman to bring into our family."

Salvatore's eyes widen and then he looks at me with pride. "Thank you for saying that. Bianca still thinks you don't approve of her completely."

"I'm working on fixing that." And on that note, I walk over to greet the women.

First, I kiss my wife which makes her blush and I'm smiling when I turn and lean down to kiss my daughter's cheeks and then Bianca's before greeting my sister-in-law.

A month ago I would have greeted Aria first to show respect for my brother's widow, but showing love for my daughter by marriage is even more important.

The ladies clearly expect me to join my son and nephew, but I've spent all day with made men. Now, I want to spend time with my wife.

When it becomes apparent to them I'm not leaving, Bianca offers to scoot toward Nerissa so I can join them on the sofa.

I smile. "Thank you, cara, but I've got a seat already."

She looks at me in confusion that turns to shock as I lift my wife up, take her seat and then sit her sideways on my lap.

"Sal! What are you doing?" Ilaria smacks my chest with the back of her hand, but she's laughing and that blush that always turns me on gets brighter.

The way she goes still tells me she can feel what she's doing to me.

Soon, my son and nephew join us, dragging over chairs from the dining table.

Ilaria is still sitting on my lap many hours later when Severu comes out to inform us that Enzo Matteo, future godfather, is a healthy seven pounds nine ounces with the lungs of a lion.