Taking The Mantle

Chapter 2

Victoria glares at me as I approach the living room. A princess song plays from the television as the film comes to an end. Elle jumps over the back of the couch and wraps her arms around my leg.

"Zio Gio," she exclaims, "mi sei mancato."
(I missed you)

I chuckle and lift her into my arms, "I missed you too little one."

I carry her back to the couch and sit down next to Victoria. Her face is still set in a deep frown and I place Elle on my knee for protection.

"Why are you guys here?" she asks, her eyes carefully searching my face.

"How fluent is she?" I ask, gesturing to her daughter on my lap.

"Not very," Victoria admits.

"Siamo di nuovo in guerra," I tell her, "e Antonio vuole rinunciare al trono."
(We're at war again and Antonio wants to relinquish the throne)

Her face drops and she swallows audibly. She doesn't say a word, instead she stands and walks over to the bassinet. Elle taps at my watch and I unclasp it, handing it to her to keep her entertained.

"I'm sorry," I say, lifting Elle into a seat of her own, "I wouldn't have come here if it wasn't an emergency."

"I know," Victoria sighs. I stand from the couch and walk over to her.

Catarina is a tiny baby, even more so than her brother. Victoria already has more than enough on her plate between the other two, Catarina, and this monstrosity of a house. She doesn't need to go to war again; she doesn't deserve that.

The last time we were at war, Victoria experienced far too much of it. The bombing, the shootings, the time she got kidnapped. That's half the reason Luca stepped down, to take her from harms way. But it doesn't matter anymore if Luca isn't in charge, because anyone is fair game in war.

"Cosa è successo ai trattati?" she asks, looking up at me.
(What happened to the treaty?)

"Antonio," I answer simply.

She nods slowly and lifts the newborn into her arms. She rocks her back and forth but I can see it in her face. She's scared. Just like me, she's remembering what happened the last time we were at war.

"You'll be safe," I tell her, "the kids too. You know that all of our men are loyal to you."

"I know," she says quietly, "that doesn't make it any better."

"Lunchtime," Alice calls out. Elle leaps off of the couch and disappears down the hall.

I lift Enzo into my arms and smile at him. He looks just like his namesake; the same big brown eyes and a mess of brown curls as both of his uncles.

I follow Victoria into their dining room where Alice has set up lunch. I place Enzo in his high chair and he smiles at me. Out of habit more than anything, I quickly dish out the pasta before taking my seat.

"Perché non sei responsabile?" Victoria asks before taking a bite.
(Why aren't you in charge?)

"I'm not a DiSilva," I tell her simply. And that truly is what it comes down to. It doesn't matter how I could rule; I never will.

"That's cazzate," she scoffs, "ti meriti quel titolo."
(Bullshit. You deserve that title."

"This isn't a discussion for either of us to have," I tell her.

Victoria shoots me a glare from across the table. I love Victoria, I do, but she has become terrifying since having kids. I'm not sure what it is, but making her angry is not something I want to do. She even scares Antonio sometimes.

"You do know as soon as you idiotos leave my house I'm going to talk to Luca about this," she says.
(Idiots)

"I know," I shrug.

I've never seen a man more in love than Luca. He listens to everything Victoria has to say, from decorating the house to deciding terms of treaties, and he always takes it to heart. He's brutally honest with her, something I've never seen a mafia man be with his wife. But their brand of love led us to numerous successful peace treaties and a ten fold increase in profits.

"Gio," Luca's voice echoes in the whole house. I sigh and stand from the table. I kiss Enzo on the top of the head as I walk past and head back upstairs to the office.

Antonio has his head in his hands again and I sit down next to him. Luca's jaw ticks and his knuckles are white, gripping the arms of the chair.

"What's going on?" I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible. Something needs to cut the tension.

"I have a solution," Luca declares.