Breathless & Bloodstained (The Chicago War #4) (43 page)

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Better to spend my
time watching you than waste it sleeping,” Tommas said, his tone a deep timber
that woke Abriella up even more.

It was Monday.
That always meant a ton of running around, Tommas being gone from the house
until late in the evening as the boss of the Outfit, and every other little
thing that somehow managed to always pop up last minute. Their life was hectic
and busy. Abriella had breakfast to cook, school drop-off to make, soccer
practice for their ten-year-old son, Tommaso, and then supper. In between, she
had an almost one-year-old to chase after, a house to manage, and people to
entertain because they never stopped showing up.

Last minute.

It might as well
have been the story of their lives.

“You’re too smooth
for your own good, Tommy,” Abriella told him.

Tommas flashed a
sinful smirk. “I’m aware. Do you think we have time for a second round before—”

A quiet knock on
the bedroom door interrupted Tommas’ question. Abriella giggled at the sight of
her husband’s crestfallen frown. He might as well have had ‘cock-blocked’
stamped on his forehead.

That was life with
kids.

God knew Tommas
loved his kids. He was a fantastic father. Hands-on, loving, caring, and
attentive. His attention was sometimes spread thin between
la famiglia
and his own family, but he never made Abriella and the kids feel like they were
anything less than the most important thing in his life.

Abriella suspected
that Tommas’ good-naturedness, his big heart, and his love for his family
stemmed from the fact that his family had been so poisonous to him growing up.
His father had been a drunk, as had his mother. Abuse and neglect had run
rampant through his life. He’d been left to care for his younger twin sisters,
and he never had much of a childhood.

He was making damn
sure that his kids had a beautiful one. Abriella was more than grateful.

“Mom, Dad?” came a
quiet, muffled voice outside the door. “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Tommas
grumbled.

Abriella smacked
her husband with the back of her hand. “Just a second, Tommaso.”

She quickly pulled
on her husband’s dress shirt that had been slung over the bedpost and tugged on
her panties. Tommas was left with his boxers and unbuttoned pants as Abriella
pulled the door open to find her ten-year-old son rubbing at his eyes with one
hand and holding his baby sister in the other.

“Sara woke up?”
Abriella asked, reaching for the baby girl. “I didn’t hear her crying.”

“I didn’t hear
her, either,” Tommas said.

Tommaso handed
Sara off. “She wasn’t. She was chewing on her bear. I got her out.”

Abriella tousled
her boy’s hair and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, sweet boy.”

“
Ah
, Ma,”
Tommaso mumbled, waving her off. “Don’t.”

At ten, it seemed
like Abriella’s son was already starting to push her away in small actions. The
boy probably didn’t even realize it, but it broke Abriella’s heart. Tommaso had
always been something akin to a momma’s boy. He had spent every waking moment
of the first three years of his life under Abriella’s feet.

Then he turned
four.

Tommas began
taking his son out with him in the daytime. Abriella never said a word about
it, but she watched her son go from a momma’s boy to his father’s understudy
faster than she wanted to admit. Tommaso walked like his father, he liked his
hair a little longer like his father did, and he even shared the same striking
gray-blue eyes.

Twins.

“Go use the
bathroom and get ready for breakfast,” Abriella told her son.

Tommaso went off
without needing to be told again. With her son gone, Abriella turned her
attention to her almost one-year-old daughter. Sara Ella Rossi was a beautiful,
spoiled creature. Her mother was partly to blame, but her father had caused
just as much by feeding to the child’s every whim. She was a princess through
and through.

After Tommaso was
born, Abriella had put off having another child. Tommas begged her every day
from the time their son turned one, until Abriella finally gave in nine years
later for a second baby. Maybe people had thought that they waited too long
between their children, and that the siblings wouldn’t be close, but Tommaso
was the perfect big brother. Sara adored her TomTom.

“You’re up early,”
Abriella said, grinning at her daughter’s wide smile.

“Mamama,” the baby
babbled.

“Pretty Sara.”
Abriella fixed the baby’s wayward curls. “And no chewing on your bear, baby
girl.”

“Dada’s girl,”
Tommas said, coming up from behind Abriella.

Sara squealed loud
enough to crack the windows. The baby flung her arms out the moment her father
was in view. Tommas took his daughter into his arms but not before he placed a
fast, searing kiss to Abriella’s lips.

“Ready for another
day?” he asked his wife.

Sara placed
slobbery kiss after kiss to her father’s scruffy cheek.

Abriella laughed.

Their life was
messy.

Crazy.

Sometimes dangerous.

But it never
lacked in fun.

Smiling, Abriella
said, “So ready.”

“Sit, sit,” Tommas
shouted.

The laughing, loud
voices quieted as people started to fill into the large dining area. Abriella’s
husband had a strange way about him when it came to the people and families of
the Outfit. Typically, Tommas was quiet and more observant of those around him.
He didn’t often join in discussions, but rather, stood off in the corner of the
room and watched them happen.

For a boss, he was
an unlikely one at first glance

But he was a damn
good one when you took another look.

When he did speak,
he commanded. He demanded attention. He forced respect. People liked him, and
when his presence was fully invested into a party, dinner, or conversation, he
was admired.

“Go, Cory,”
Evelina said as she patted her ten-year-old nephew on the back, urging him
toward the table. “Go find your mother.”

Cory Rossi gave
his aunt a brilliant smile. “Get me an extra piece of cake.”

“For my favorite
nephew? Of course.”

Abriella laughed
as Evelina saddled up beside her against the wall. Little Sara stood at her
mother’s feet, hanging on to the ends of Abriella’s dress for dear life like
her mother might leave her sights.

“God, does Lily
know how badly you spoil that kid?” Abriella asked.

Evelina shrugged.
“Yep.”

“What about
Joseph?”

“Even worse. Theo
gets the claim to fame for that one, however.”

Abriella shook her
head. Both of her nephews from Lily and Damian’s side of the family were good
boys—great, even. They were a hell of a lot like their father, quiet and
unassuming, but they were also very much like their mother, too, with their
outgoing personalities when the time was warranted and their sweet natures.

“And what about
you?” Abriella asked.

Evelina cocked a
brow. “Huh?”

“You, Eve. Aren’t
you and Theo going to … you know what I mean?”

“Not really.”

“You’ve been
married for a decade. No kids.”

Evelina’s smile
didn’t falter. “We have what matters, Ella. Each other. Good family. Health. Happiness.
We spoil the hell out of everyone else’s kids and then send them back home to
you when they’re hopped up on chocolate and ready to crash.”

“Thanks.”

“Seriously,
though, this is what makes us happy,” Evelina said quietly. “We’re not like
everyone else. We’re not looking for the white picket fence, the two-point-five
kids, and the dog. This is our kind of happily ever after, and it’s perfect for
us.”

Abriella was
pleased that her old friend had found her happiness in a man like Theo DeLuca.
Passing the people a glance as they began to take their seats, Abriella found
Theo chatting with Tommas at the head of the table. As Tommas’ front boss, Theo
was never too far away. He’d gone from a Capo to one of the highest people in
the Outfit without ever breaking a stride. Tommas simply said he trusted the
man—Abriella had faith in her husband that he would pick the right men to stand
with him and protect him.

“Alessa is ready
to pop,” Evelina said, rubbing her hands together.

Abriella found her
sister in the crowd. Alessa wrangled her two daughters into seats at the table
while holding onto her eight-month swell at the same time.

“Another niece for
you to spoil, huh?”

Evelina nodded.
“You know it.”

“Hard to believe
that Adriano had three girls. Are they done?”

“According to my
brother, they absolutely are.”

“He’s a good dad,”
Abriella said. “Those girls have him wrapped around their pinkies, and he loves
it.”

“He is, and he
does. Are you still going to the opera show with us all tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.
Go grab a plate before the kids eat us out of house and home,” Abriella told
her friend.

“Going,” Evelina
said with a laugh.

Abriella watched
her friend go, and took note of Evelina’s brother coming to his wife’s rescue.
Adriano Conti helped Alessa sit their youngest five-year-old daughter into a
chair beside her eleven-year-old sister. Then, the man shot his wife a tired
grin and stood to speak with the man who had come up behind him: Damian Rossi.

The two men’s
conversation was had quietly, and by the looks of it, no one around them took
note of it happening. Guessing by the serious expressions the two men wore, the
conversation was not a light one, and it probably had something to do with
Adriano’s position as a Capo, and Damian’s higher one as the Outfit’s
underboss.

Abriella had to
say, she liked this better.

Business was not
everyone else’s
business
. It should be had quietly, and without the
concern of others’ sticking their noses where it didn’t belong. Less issues
were had between the families when everyone worked together to keep things
peaceful and respectful, especially Outfit business.

It certainly
helped that everyone now seemed to have someone else in another family. At one
time, these people were all separated by their bloodlines and their misplaced
loyalties, leaving no family deathless. Reckless actions pushed them even
further apart. The Chicago War left no one scarless. Each soul burned by the
bloodshed came out of the fire a little breathless, but far smarter and more
loyal than before.

Honor kept them
honest.

Family was
everything.

It was hard to
kill your blood, after all. Lily, a once DeLuca, married a Rossi. Theo DeLuca married
a Conti. Adriano Conti married a Trentini. And Abriella married a Rossi. Their
families were so interwoven with their children and friendships that fighting
would only mean killing themselves in the end.

“Not that I’m
complaining,” Tommas whispered into Abriella’s ear.

She hadn’t even
heard her husband come up beside her until he was speaking. A shiver raced down
her spine as his lips ghosted over her ear.

“What’s that?”

“Not that I’m
complaining, Ella, because you look damn good standing in a room full of
people. Beautiful people draw attention, and we both know how much you shine,
baby. But you’re supposed to be saying grace for me. We’re starving. You’re
keeping us waiting.”

Abriella smiled,
and turned her head just enough to press a quick kiss to Tommas’ mouth. She
could feel at least twenty pairs of eyes watching their private, close
exchange. She didn’t mind showing the closeness she shared with her husband off
for others to see. It was a good reminder that as much as some had tried to
shame her and Tommas, and for every
whore
that was whispered behind her
back by the older generation of Outfit people, Tommas and Abriella still
survived.