Page 34 of His Son's Ex

A faint smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Fair enough.”

The study is a comfortable mix of old-world charm and modern simplicity. A large mahogany desk sits in the center, a worn, high-back leather chair behind it. My father’s chair, now passed on to me. The walls are lined with books that no one but my mother bothers to read anymore.

There’s a hidden panel behind the shelves leading to a panic room, though thankfully, we’ve never had to use it. Still, caution is forever in the forefront in my world.

I look over at a framed photograph on the mantel of my father and my two younger brothers, all three of them gone. The War of the Black Roses took so many people, my father and siblings included. It changed me, preparing me to become the man I needed to be to take over the Bellacino family when they died.

That was nearly a decade ago, but some wounds never fully heal.

Nonna follows my line of sight. “They’d be proud of you, you know. All of them.”

I grunt, not sure how to respond. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

She tilts her head. “That’s exactly what your father always said. But let’s not pretend this fiasco at the wedding can be overlooked. I understand Linda’s meddling has always been a thorn in your side, but the robbery, that was Lombardi, yes?”

My jaw tightens at the mention of Lombardi. “It was. Confirmed by the idiots who tried to pull it off. Gianni Lombardi tipped them off, probably hoping they’d humiliate us in front of half the city.”

My mother’s lips curve into a rueful smile. “He’s bolder than I thought. Or stupid.”

“I’m betting on stupid,” I say, picking up my coffee again. “But if he’s bold enough to try a stunt like that in my presence, he needs a reminder of his place. I plan to hurt him where it counts. We both know money is the lifeblood of the families.”

She nods, sipping her coffee. “And if he dare retaliates?”

I let out a low chuckle. “He’ll regret it. Retribution is the only language men like that understand.”

My mother sets her cup aside and fixes me with a look. “Good. The entire city needs to see that the Bellacinos will not be insulted. I’ve spent half my life reminding people of that. So did your father, and your brothers, may they all rest in peace.”

I picture Michael and Guiseppe, their cocky grins, their unwavering loyalty. I can still hear Michael’s laugh in my head sometimes. Then I blink, forcing myself back to the present moment.

“Our part in the War of the Black Roses wasn’t squeaky clean.”

She waves an elegant hand, the jewels on her fingers catching the sunlight. “We did terrible things, yes, but so did the Russians. It was war, Dante. I just wish…” She trails off, a flicker of regret in her eyes. “I wish it hadn’t claimed so many young lives. Perhaps if I’d convinced your father to broker peace earlier?—”

“Mother.” My tone is gentle but firm. “You cannot hold yourself responsible for everything. Some burdens are mine to carry.”

She straightens, almost bristling. “I’ve told you this before, Dante. I pulled strings in that war, too.When I saw your fatherfalter, I pushed him. Don’t carry guilt that doesn’t belong to you.”

I hold her gaze for a moment. My mother is many things—intelligent, ruthless, and fiercely protective of her family. Her involvement in the War of the Black Roses isn’t a story told in polite company. I know she orchestrated certain hits behind the scenes.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s the reason she’s so adamant about me never hesitating. She learned the cost of doubt the hard way.

I sit back, sighing heavily. “Let’s not discuss who’s to blame for the past. It cannot be changed, and we have bigger issues before us. Lombardi, for one. Let’s focus on that.”

She gives a curt nod. “Yes, you’re right. I trust your judgment. You always had a knack for knowing exactly where to strike so it hurts the most.”

“I’m aware of a list of businesses where Gianni’s invested. I’ll have my men disrupt supply chains, maybe even sabotage a few key deals. Nothing so obvious that we can be traced, but enough to sting.”

“Good,” she says, lifting her coffee again. “Do it quickly, before he has a chance to regroup.”

A comfortable silence settles in, punctuated by the tick of the ornate grandfather clock near the door. It’s an heirloom from the old country, shipped over decades ago. The rhythmic sound usually calms me, but today my thoughts are overtaken by someone who draws me like a magnet, the invasion leaving no room for calmness.

My mother sets her cup down again, eyeing me intently. “Speaking of the wedding, I noticed a young woman among the guests. Shapely blonde, I believe? She sat in the back rows initially, then disappeared for a while, reappearing later at the reception. She was there with a girlfriend.”

My heartbeat thumps in my chest. “You notice everything, don’t you?”

A slow smile touches her lips. “I do. Now, what was her name? She’s Luca’s ex-girlfriend, yes?”

I hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much. Why is my mother so curious?

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