Page 82 of Bastard Prince
But the moment had come, and I was out of time.
“So I’m going to give you a choice, uncle, and in the end, it’s up to you how this goes.” I gave the revolver one last wipe and then I set it in the middle of the table. Outside, the distant sound of sirens began to wail, and I stepped back from the table and headed toward the door. “That gun has one shot in it. You can use it to kill me, but then Enzo here will just kill you and you’ll be no better off. The second option is you let us go and face the music. After all, it will be a toss up as to who reaches you first, the Commission or the FBI.”
Silvio eyed the revolver, swallowing hard.
“Or,” I said, dragging the word out, “you can stay true to form and show the world who you really are. One last act of cowardice, uncle, and this can all be over.” Enzo and I were at the entrance to the hidden room, our freedom just a few steps away. “The choice is truly yours, uncle, but make it quickly. The sharks are circling and the net’s pulled tight.”
And with those words, I turned and strode out of the room, Enzo at my side, as we made our way back to the front of the restaurant. Giuseppe was still standing near the front door, and he let out a relieved breath when he saw us both emerge unscathed.
As Giuseppe reached for the door, the sound of a gunshot rang out from the back, but neither Enzo nor myself flinched.
Good.
It was done, then.
“Congratulations,SignoreArgenti,” I said flatly. “You’ve just been promoted.”
And with that, Enzo and I stepped out of the restaurant, out of the past, and moved forward into a new life, together.
And there were no limits to what we could make happen.
Epilogue
Francesca
The timer on the oven beeped, announcing that the turkey was finally ready. Not that I couldn’t tell by the smell alone; the entire house was filled with rich and delicious smells, smells that reminded me of my childhood and all the years I spent in the kitchen, prepping meals with my mother.
Thoughts of her were hard again; I had thought I had dealt with her loss when I believed it was a tragic accident, but after learning it had actually been cold-blooded murder, I was struggling all over again.
More than once Enzo had to hold me through my tears, and I’m not sure which one of us was more uncomfortable with my crying, but we seemed to be managing.
It helped that I had my brother back, even though he continued to remain distant. We talked, but I could tell it was mostly surface stuff, that he still wasn’t prepared to let me truly into his life. He hadn’t returned to Las Vegas like he’d promised, and at one point, Enzo had to talk me down from hopping a plane to Chicago and storming into Antonio’s life and uncovering his secrets. My husband was sure that, with enough time, Antonio would open up to me. I just had to be patient.
Setting aside my nostalgia and worry over Tony, I donned the oven mitts and opened the door, the blast of hot, moist air filling the kitchen and battering my face, melting my mascara and clumping my eyelashes together.
“Is it ready?” Rocco asked around his mouthful ofantipasti. He’d been hovering at the island all afternoon, stealing bites of whatever he could reach on top of all the snacks that I had scattered throughout the house. He currently had a slice of prosciutto in one hand and a spiced mozzarella ball in the other, yet he still eyed the turkey in the oven like a starving man.
Holidays had always been a big deal for me, and this Thanksgiving was my first time hosting a holiday meal here in Las Vegas, so I wanted to set a precedent.
Enzo kept telling me to relax, that he and the crew usually just ordered in and the guys watched football while Lexi skulked around the internet and Lucky glared at everyone.
And honestly, I could see that.
But this year, I wanted things to be different.
Looking around the open plan space that was Enzo’s main floor, my heart soared as I took in the people that Enzo and I loved most in the world. The people who we had chosen to be our family. The ones who stuck around through trials and tribulations, through the toughest times and the best times, their support and loyalty meaning more than I could ever express.
The guys were all seated in the sunken living room, sprawled across Enzo’s plush leather couches, Trick and Benny hollering at the screen as whatever team they were cheering for did...something while Massimo cheered for the other team and yelled the opposite of whatever they were screaming. Honestly, I couldn’t tell if their shouts were positive or negative, but either way, they were having a good time.
Sway was seated on the far end of the couch, his gaze bouncing from the massive television screen to Rocco and back. It was like he was terrified to let him out of his sight. It was cute, watching him trail after Rock like a puppy. It was even cuter watching Rocco pretend it frustrated him.
Even Vinnie was sitting there, although he was a bit more subdued than the others. He’d been different ever since we’d put Rosa on a plane and sent her home. I knew they kept in touch, but I still felt like I was missing something, and neither of them were talking.
That seemed to be a recurring theme in my life, and it was pissing me off.
Out on the patio, the folding accordion doors opened wide, sat Lexi and Lucky, and they were pretty much doing exactly what Enzo said they would be doing. Lexi was typing away at her laptop—determined to avoid Benny every time he cast a look her way—and Lucky really was glaring at everyone, but I thought I detected a bit of affection in her eyes.
The girl was not as hard as they all thought she was.
