34. Simon

Iget approximately twelve blissful hours with my wife. We spend most of them in bed.

Staying with Emily wasn't a hard decision. I was afraid she might be freaked out by the way I feel about her, but it seems to have had the opposite effect. She throws herself at me with a reckless enthusiasm that gets me hard and keeps me hard until we're both sweaty little messes.

I cook for her in the morning. She drinks coffee and sits near the bay window overlooking the garden, the sunlight in her hair, a smile on her lips, the steam from hot coffee drifting up around her face. I bend down and kiss her, aware that I've never been this content before in my life, even though things have never been this precarious before.

I told her a half-truth back at her father's place. I'm going to keep pushing forward and I'm not going to give up on convincing my dad to finally step down, but I don't have a clear plan. Not yet, at least.

And I don't have time to come up with one before there's a knock at my door.

I find my old man standing on my porch. He's using his arm crutches with two of his personal bodyguards standing behind him. That sets me on edge—we never bring our guards anywhere in the oasis, not when we have so much security around all the time, and it's not like we're in any danger visiting our own damn family.

"I heard she's in there." Dad makes a face and peers past me. I step in his way. "Well? Is the girl back?"

"If by the girl you mean my wife, yes, Emily's home after visiting her father." I don't move to invite him in. I don't like the way he's looking at me with pure loathing in his eyes, and I wonder if he's so far gone that there's no chance he'll ever be able to see what he's becoming.

My father was never like this. He was warm and loving and inviting. I grew up idolizing him, but that gunshot wound ruined what was left of the father I grew up with, leaving a shadow in his place.

"You really do like hurting yourself, don't you, boy?" He snorts and shakes his head. "I should go see if Angelo wants to marry the Santoro girl instead. Maybe he has sense."

"He has enough sense to know it's an insane idea." Desperation bubbles down my spine. "Dad, what are you thinking? Luciano tried to kill you. He betrayed us. He kidnapped Davide?—"

"You don't know a damn thing about Luciano Santoro," Dad snaps at me, showing his teeth.

I soften my tone. "You're right. You won't tell anyone what really happened back then. Why are you so fucking intent on making peace with that man when we should be tearing up the city to take him out?"

Dad takes a long breath, his jaw working. He's angry, but he's not losing his cool. Instead, he turns sideways, looking out at the oasis and glancing back at me, like he's taking in his kingdom and measuring me against it.

"I understand you don't approve of my decisions, but I am the Don, and you don't have to like what I say. War right now will only bring heat onto our family. There's an election coming up and the politicians are pressuring the police to keep the crime rate down which means they're pressuring us to stop killing each other. But even when this election is over, the Chicago PD and city hall will both keep on breathing down our necks because the old world is dying. They don't respect us like they used to. We can't start shooting with impunity, even if that's exactly what I want to do. It's a new world, and I'm adapting to it, the way I always have."

Dad turns back to face me. He's leaning on his crutches, almost slumping on them. I want to ask him to sit, but I don't think he will. "It's time for you to choose. Marry the Santoro girl and I'll step back to an advisory position. Or stay with your current wife and lose any chance at becoming the Don."

It's not a difficult decision. Only I don't know what's going to happen from here. I feel my life splitting in half—on the one side is the path I always imagined, from birth to Don to death, and on the other is this new reality, one in which my father is actively against me. I don't know how I ended up here.

I was the rule follower. I was the good son. He bred me from birth to take over as the leader of the Famiglia, and I've done nothing but obey his orders since then. Until that bullet ripped him into shreds, and now somehow, I find myself at odds with the man I've served and looked up to my whole life.

It kills me. It breaks my fucking heart. But I won't bend for him, and I won't give up Emily.

"I'm sorry, Dad, but I'm already married."

Dad's lip curls back. He clears his throat and spits on my porch before turning his back on me. "Next time, just declare war outright instead of slithering around like a snake in the grass." He limps down the steps and shrugs off one of the guards when he tries to help.

I watch my father go. I don't move as he shuffles back toward his house, moving slowly, clearly still in pain.

"I'm sorry." Emily's voice drifts from behind me. I half turn back inside. She's standing in the hall, biting her lip, looking more beautiful than I deserve. "That must've been hard. If you want?—"

"Don't do that," I say before she can say it. "I made my choice."

She comes to me and leans into my chest. I kiss her, cupping her ass with one hand, smiling at the warmth of her. It's strange how my life is so bleak right now, but having her here makes it all okay.

Rock bottom with Emily is better than achieving all my damn wildest dreams. That's probably not healthy, but it's how I feel.

I kiss her, and I'm about to drag her upstairs, when my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. It's my mom.

I answer right away. "Is everything okay?" Normally, she'd just come over if she wanted to talk.

She's whispering now though. "I'm just warning you, your father is talking about trying to evict you. I'm talking him down?—"

"He can't do that." I stare outside at the oasis, the only home I've ever known, and feel my body go cold.

My father's trying to evict me.

I knew things might reach this point, but I had hoped I'd get more time to show Dad that I have his best interests at heart.

Instead, he's escalating, and I haven't secured my power base yet.

Mom sounds uncertain and scared when she says, "I'm working on him, okay? Just hang tight, and lock your doors."