Page 3 of Bastard Prince
Gio turned to look at his sleeping son, his beautiful gentle boy, and knew deep in his soul that Antonio would never survive this life. He would never be the kind of man who would make hard decisions, decisions that would hurt others for the good of the Family, even if that someone deserved it.
Antonio would never be a Made Man.
But Giovanni knew that a promise to that fact wouldn’t be enough for whoever it was that sought to end his succession by harming his legacy.
And so Giovanni began to form a plan, a plan that would break his own heart but would save the life of his precious son, and that was enough for him.
Not taking his eyes off of his sleeping boy, Gio picked up his phone and began making calls.
* * * *
Hours later, arrangements had been made, and Gio was finally ready to do what he needed to do. When the doctor had returned to tell him that his beautiful Elena had not survived the surgery, Giovanni had steeled himself, setting aside his pain, his complete and total agony, to ask for this favor, which the doctor didn’t hesitate to grant.
Now they stood, in the hospital morgue, waiting for the arrival of the man who would save Antonio’s life.
There was a knock at the exterior door, which the doctor hurried to open, and Giovanni sighed with relief.
“Goran, my friend. Thank you for coming.”
“Gio, anything for you. You know this.” The two men embraced each other like the old friends they were. “I am sorry to hear about your troubles. This life we lead is dangerous, but involving children is the lowest form of cowardice.”
“I agree, and that is why I ask this of you.”
“I’m glad I was still in the city. I had planned to head back to Chicago tomorrow, but I’ll leave now. No one will know what we’ve done, Gio.”
“Thank you again.” Giovanni turned to the doctor who stood next to a gurney, where a small body was covered with a sheet. At Gio’s nod the doctor drew back the crisp white fabric, revealing Antonio, who lay there, eyes wide and body shaking.
Moving to his son, Gio helped him sit up, then cupped his face and pressed their foreheads together. “Antonio, my dear boy. I love you more than you could ever know. You are everything good in my life, and that’s why I must do this. I cannot protect you right now, and I cannot lose you like I have your mother.” He stumbled on the last word, and Antonio sobbed quietly, tears tracking down his face at the mention of his lost mother. Pulling him close, Giovanni held his son, memorizing the feel and the smell of him, before stepping back and gesturing to Goran. “This man is my friend. I have known him for many years, and you can trust him. He will take you out of the city tonight and keep you hidden until I can find who did this and make New York safe for you again, my son.”
“Papà, I don’t want to go.”
“I know, Tony. I don’t want you to go either. But I have to fix this, and I can’t do that while you are in danger. So I need you to go with Goran, and I need you to remember how much I love you. I will come for you as soon as I can. I promise.”
Antonio looked as though he wanted to protest again, but he only pressed his lips together tightly and nodded, still unable to stop his tears.
As they moved out of the morgue and into the darkened back lot of the hospital, Goran spoke quietly. “Gio, there will be another associate of mine here shortly with a body, one that will be easily mistaken for your boy.” Giovanni didn’t ask how Goran was able to access such a specific item on such short notice. With the Serbian Mafia, it was best not to know too much.
Even ex-Serbian Mafia as Goran was.
“I will have the boy with me in Chicago. Hiding in plain sight, if you will. No one will think to look for him in my household. The tensions between our organizations are too high right now. They would never suspect you and I have remained cordial after all these years.”
Unable to speak, Giovanni simply held his son’s hand as they moved toward a blacked-out SUV. “I have recently taken in another stray, as well,” Goran said, his voice full of affection as he gestured to the boy standing next to the vehicle. About seventeen years old, the boy was tall and lean, his face so serious that Gio would have thought he had lost a loved one tonight as well.
Goran clapped the boy on the shoulder and said, “My nephew, Darko. He also has some troubles, and so will be keeping Antonio and I company for the foreseeable future.”
The boy, Darko, nodded at Gio, but when his gaze landed on Antonio, his face softened. Well, as much as a face like his could soften, anyway, and he lifted his chin in greeting.
Something about the gesture must have comforted Antonio, because he blew out a breath, turned, then looked his father in the eye. “I’ll be alright, Papà. I know what has to happen, and I know why. But, please. Look after Frankie. She’ll be so sad.”
Eyes filling, Giovanni blinked back the tears. There would be time for that later. For now, he placed his hands on his son’s shoulders, squeezing tight. “I will, my son. I promise. And I want you to promise that you will continue to be you. Keep being kind and thoughtful and caring. Everything that I treasure about you. I will come for you when I can, but I will love you everyday until then.”
Antonio flung his arms around his father’s waist, and it was all Giovanni could do to breathe. Finally, it was Darko who stepped up, placing a hand on Antonio’s shoulder and drawing him back.
“Come on, kid. It’s time. We have a long drive ahead of us.”
Giovanni watched as, with a final look over his shoulder, Antonio climbed in the back of the SUV, waving out the window until he was out of sight.
Gio took a breath, then another.
