14. Simon

Imeet up with Davide and Stefania at their house. Emily needed some time to acclimate at the house without me hovering around her, and so I forced myself to leave her alone for a few minutes. Stef lets me in, looking like she can barely contain her excitement, and escorts me across the enormous open floor plan to the kitchen area where Davide's putting together a cheese tray.

My dark, brooding brother, with his burn scars and his emotional distress, cutting fucking brie. It's amazing how things change.

"Elena told us," Stefania admits, bubbling over. "I can't believe you really did it. Holy crap, your dad's going to be so mad." She seems gleeful at the prospect.

I glare at her, try to take a slice of cheddar, and get my hand slapped away by my younger brother. "It's not about making him angry. It's about making sure the Famiglia's in good hands."

"In your hands, you mean," Davide says in his low, soft baritone.

I make a rude gesture in his direction.

"My husband here means to say congratulations." Stefania elbows him.

"No, I don't." Davide narrows his eyes at me. "Does this girl know you just threw her to the wolves?"

I pace back and forth, because the thought had occurred to me, but now that this marriage is a reality, I'm beginning to see how it might be somewhat difficult on poor Emily.

My family isn't normal. That's an understatement—my family is several layers of fucked up. There's a long history of trauma, violence, pain, suffering, wealth, and sin that stretches back generations. We're powerful—more powerful than Emily realizes, although I think seeing the oasis gave her a clue—and now she's married to the heir that stands to inherit the entire organization.

It's only for five years—but those will be hard years.

"She's going to be fine," I say and gesture at Stefania. "She was fine."

"Uh, actually, I was far from fucking fine," Stefania says, giving her husband a look. "But I also came from a family like this one, remember?" When she notices the look on my face, she waves her hands in the air. "I mean, no, it'll be fine, my situation is totally different from your wife's?—"

Davide pats his wife's arm. "Good job. Well done." He gives me a look and shakes his head. "You do know Dad's going to see this as a provocation, right?"

"It's meant to be one." I glare at my sibling and regret coming over here already. "But it's also meant to prove that I have my shit together."

"And marrying some random-ass girl that has nothing to do with the Famiglia is meant to do that?" Davide's eyebrows raise. "Didn't you stop to think that Dad might've wanted to create a good match for you?"

I did stop to think about that, but I decided to take the matters into my own hands. I start pacing again and cross my arms against his accusation. "Dad thinks I'm not settled enough. He thinks I'm not mature enough."

"This is really mature," Davide comments, going back to slicing.

"Okay, enough," Stefania says and punches her husband. "We get it, you're against this idea. Personally, I think it'll work. I mean, we all know Alessandro's been struggling lately, and if he sees that Simon's taking the whole Don thing seriously—" She leaves the rest in the air, and nobody finishes her sentence.

But we're all thinking it. We've been thinking it. Maybe he'll see himself for what he is—old, tired, in pain, frustrated and angry all the damn time—and maybe he'll step down on his own. We all want that to happen, even if we don't agree on how to convince him.

"I'm going to break the news to him later tonight," I say softly as Davide finishes with the tray and finally lets me get something to eat. "I want you all there with me."

"We'll be happy to be your buffer," Stefania says. "Right, Davide?"

"We'll be there," he agrees, and even if we have our moments, I trust my brother with my life.

There's a knock at the door. I pause and glance back, and Stefania walks past me to answer it. Matty's standing on the stoop, one of the main oasis guards, and he looks straight in at me.

"The Don wants to talk to you," he says when I come over. Then he hesitates and cringes. "He's pretty pissed."

I share a look with Stefania. She shakes her head, eyes wide, trying to say that she didn't tell him. My hands curl into fists, and I look over my shoulder. Davide also seems mystified.

But I can't think of another reason why my father would be angry, except that he somehow found out about Emily before I had a chance to tell him.

Which is bad. I want to break it to him on my terms so he understands that my motivations are all about the Famiglia, and that I'm serious about making this work.

Instead, my father, the unstable Don, knows, and my entire plan might be fucked before it even begins.