Chapter Six

CAIRO

THE REHEARSAL DINNER

Letting this shit play out isn’t what I want to do, but it’s necessary.

I stroll into the restaurant; my bodyguards close behind. The ceiling is lined with strings of red and green Christmas lights, and decorative ornaments dangle overhead. Two massive Christmas trees stand tall—one by the entrance and another by the candy-cane-striped bar.

The ma?tre d’ stops me. “Your name, sir?”

“Baccaro.”

The older man’s jaw drops at the name, his pale face flashing with alarm. I pat his shoulder, moving past him without giving him the chance to say anything further.

I purposefully arrive early so I can sit across from my wife. Carlos, my father-in-law, has also arrived early and sits to my left at the head of the table, nursing a Scotch. He's still upset with me for marrying his daughter without his permission.

“Crush, place my order with the chef. I’ll take a Scotch too.”

“Right away, boss.”

The rest of the wedding party starts to trickle in and take their seats at the long table covered with a crisp white tablecloth. Fancy glass vases hold flickering artificial candles down the center of the table. Lee Lee sits next to Baylor and covers her mouth in shock when she sees me there. My lovely wife, however, keeps her gaze averted, refusing to look in my direction.

Silas strides confidently towards the table, flanked by his bodyguards. He's dressed in a sharp gray tuxedo with black satin lapels, his short brown hair slicked back. He's not particularly good-looking, but his position as a mafia boss earns him plenty of attention from women. Standing at around six feet tall, he flashes a sly smile when he spots Baylor sitting at the table. My fist clenches on my thigh as I watch.

As he pulls out a chair next to my wife, his eyes land on me.

"Baccaro, what are you doing here?" he asks.

I ignore his question.

"I never knew you had an interest in Baylor," I say casually.

He smirks, letting his eyes roam over her body. “Look at her. Who wouldn’t?”

My jaw tightens, teeth grinding hard enough to snap.

"Why do you care about my relationship with Baylor?" he asks, annoyance evident in his sinister gray eyes.

The conversations around the table fall silent.

“I’ve known Baylor all my life. Guess you could say I’m her protector,”

I reply, catching the way my wife’s lips part slightly in surprise. I know she can feel the intensity of my gaze, my love, even from across the table.

Servers arrive, setting down cocktails and appetizers, and the chatter gradually resumes. I raise a finger, calling over a server, and order three of the finest bottles of champagne.

Silas's mother shoots daggers at me from her seat at the head of the table to my right. Clearly, she wouldn’t mind seeing me dead.

"Let's celebrate this joyous occasion first, and then we can discuss business," I say to Silas. "Do you know what it's about?"

He drapes an arm across the back of Baylor's chair. "No," he replies innocently.

"You chose Delaware City instead of Middleton; just curious why," I press.

He leans back, flashing a wider grin. “Worried I might take over your territory next?”

he teases. Crush places a glass of Scotch in front of me, and I thank him before taking a sip.

I hold Silas's gaze, my expression calm and unfazed. "Not at all," I reply.

“I have friends in high places. Like New Jersey. You know Dillon Magarelli, right?”

His eyes darken. “Yes, I know who the fuck he is.”

Clapping erupts to my right. “Looks like we’re about to party,”

Nico says as he saunters toward the table.

The server returns and hands me one of the bottles of champagne. I stand up, holding the bottle in one hand. "Nico, you came just in time for the celebration. Grab a champagne glass."

After filling his glass, he moves to the other end of the table.

Silas’s lips form a tight line.

“Relax, Silas. We’re here to celebrate,”

I say as I pop the cork on a second bottle.

Applause echoes around the restaurant.

I raise my glass high. “Here’s to lifelong unions on Christmas Eve.”

A smile takes my lips.

Silas finally relaxes and strikes up a conversation with Baylor while we eat.

He leans in and inhales her scent.

My hand clenches around my steak knife, then I set it down, reaching for the blade in my ankle pocket holster.

Baylor inches backward. She looks timid and scared. One thing about Baylor, her sweet innocent look is a decoy. If she wants to slit his throat, she will.

He whispers something else and places a hand on her thigh. I’ll definitely cut off his hand.

But then Baylor lashes out and smacks him across the face with the back of her hand.

“You fucking bitch,”

he sneers.

I drive my knife into the wooden table with a sharp crack. Gasps ripple through the room.

“Silas, take back whatever you just said to deserve that slap,” I growl.

“If I want to kiss my fiancée or make her choke on my dick, I will,”

he retorts, gripping Baylor's face roughly and forcing his lips onto hers.

Before I know it, I’ve yanked my knife out and launched myself onto the table. Plates clatter, glass shatters, and screams echo around me.

With determination in my movements, I reach for Silas's neck with one hand. We fall to the ground, grappling with each other. I can feel my men moving into action, forcing Silas's men to stand down without even needing to look.

“You disrespected her. And for that you will pay,”

I snarl through clenched teeth.

Silas lands a punch on my jaw, and my head rocks back. I grab his wrist, pressing it to the ground, and drive the blade through. His scream fills the room.

“Get her out of here,”

I bark at my men.

Silas holds his bleeding stump, glaring at me with hatred.

“You can return to Ellendale. But don't ever think about trying to take a piece of our territories again. The Sandros and the Baccaros built these territories together. They are not to be divided. If you can't walk away, I can kill you now.”

“Got it. Don’t come for…your stupid…territories,”

he grunts.

“I'll take that as a sign that you want to live another day.”

I remove his guns from their holsters and toss them aside.

“And just so we're clear, if you ever try to come back and take our territories, I'll cut off your lips.”

I lean in closer, making sure he understands one more thing. “Baylor is mine.”

Forty-five minutes later, I arrived at "Santa's Workshop." Christmas music hums in the background as I descend the stairs into the basement. Screams echo as I reach the bottom step.

“I fucking hate you,”

Tiana yells.

Baylor stands over her, decked out in her “killing”

gear: a bouffant cap, gloves, a long black leather butcher’s apron, and boots.

"Same." Her dark laughter fills the room.

"Bay, don't take all night. I need you upstairs in our bed riding my dick."

She glances over her shoulder. “I promise I won’t be long.”

She winks.

Tiana thrashes in the zip ties bound to the wooden chair placed on top of a sheet of plastic. "How could you let her do this to me?"

I shrug. “I warned you, Tiana. Told you to take the money and go. But you wanted a man who wasn’t yours to take. What you didn’t know is Baylor and I are married. Four years now. And on Christmas Eve, we’ll recite our vows in front of our family and friends.”

Baylor smirks, “I can’t wait, Mr. Baccaro.”

“Me either, Mrs. Baccaro.”

“My father’s the police chief. He’ll hunt you down,”

Tiana spits, her voice full of venom.

I chuckle. “Sounds like a threat geared toward both of us.”

Baylor slams a knife into Tiana’s shoulder, her eyes gleaming. “We’d love to see him try. Cairo and I haven’t killed together in a long time. It’ll be fun.”

I smirk. "Indeed, it will be, baby."

Since I'm not dressed in my usual killing attire, I head back upstairs. It felt good to let Silas Agosta think he could escape death. I had to make it appear as though I wouldn't kill him. He's nicely wrapped up in the basement of our other house. I can't wait to slice off his lips.

I release a breath. No more hiding. Finally, I'll be able to go wherever I want with my wife by my side.

Epilogue

BAYLOR

CHRISTMAS EVE

With my arm looped around my father’s, I take slow steps down the aisle of the church, making my way towards the altar. Our intimate group of friends and family smile at me as I walk past them.

My heart is pounding in my chest. This moment feels surreal, like a dream come true.

The embroidered white wedding gown hugs my body, perfectly tailored for a mafia queen. The seamstress had to let it out twice, but it fit just right now.

Everything is about to change. I am about to become Donna of the Baccaro mafia family. Lifting a hand, I wave at the mafia wives. Their radiant brown skin makes me feel warm inside knowing they are like me. Powerful and deadly. The mafia wives love to get together and embrace each other. I only had my best friend.

Now Sierra Magarelli, the head donna of the New Jersey mafia, insisted I join them at the chamber. I don’t know what it is, but it sounds like we’ll have a blast.

Cairo walks down to meet me, taking my hand. My father gives him a stern look as they shake hands.

"Take care of my daughter, Cairo," Dad grunts.

"I will, Carlos."

He helps me up the steps to the altar, and I hand my bouquet to Lee Lee, my best friend and bridesmaid.

Facing Cairo, I smile so wide it almost hurts. I can’t believe I’m marrying him—again. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved, and I can finally imagine a future where we’re no longer in hiding. I look forward to having picnics in the park. And standing in our front yard kissing.

The officiant’s voice brings me back to the moment. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Before Cairo leans in, I reach into my dress and pull out a small picture, pressing it into his hand.

“What’s this?”

He looks at me quizzically.

"It's an ultrasound of our baby," I explained with tears in my eyes.

“Our little one will be here in six months.”

His eyes widened. "We're having a baby," he whispers.

Turning to our guests, he shouts, "We're having a baby!"

Everyone cheers and claps.

Cairo tucks the ultrasound into his navy-blue inner tuxedo pocket and cups my face in his hands. "You're the only woman I've ever loved. I've been obsessed with you since we were kids. And I still am." He smiles at me.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Baccaro," he says.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Baccaro," I reply.

And then his lips meet mine in a passionate and intoxicating kiss.

I look forward to spending the rest of my life with Cairo Baccaro.

THE END