Page 33 of Savage Empire
“This place doesn’t feel real,” he mutters in disbelief.
“It’s as real as it gets.” Elio chuckles.
“Come,” I cut in, nodding toward the hall. “The kitchen is this way.”
Chapter Ten
Dante
“Who is this handsome young man?” Martha asks, alerting me to the presence of my sons and their guest. As our lifelong chef and a sort of surrogate grandmother to many of my children, Martha doesn’t have to adhere to any kind of protocol in our home.
She’s free to speak her mind and act however she sees fit. I’ve known the woman for decades, and trust her ability to be warm, welcoming, and professional when necessary. As such, she doesn’t greet the teenager at Apollo’s side with a cold glance or a stiff handshake, she bustles right up to him with a wide smile and the kind of comforting poise only a Nonna can offer.
I watch with an amused smile as she cups the sides of the boy’s face, getting a good look at him, likely deciding whether or not she needs to feed him. If she finds him to be too thin, she won’t hesitate to ply him with sweets that she has secretly baked protein into, nor will she hide her assessment from anyone who will listen.
“Martha, this is Yordan Todorov. Yordan, this is Martha, she’s family,” Elio introduces them like a proper gentleman should.
I may have raised mobsters, but they are mobsters with manners, especially where Martha is concerned. The woman provided most of their meals since they were in diapers. They don’t need to be told to show her respect, it comes naturally.
“Nice to meet you,” he replies, voice almost shy.
“Ahh, such a nice boy,” Martha replies in approval. “Where have you found him, hmm?”
“It’s a bit of a long story, but Apollo has taken Yordan under his wing,” Elio continues, enjoying Martha’s excitement. “He’s living with his sister in one of the sanctuary apartments.”
“Oh, how lovely,” Martha coos happily, dropping her hands from Yordan’s face. “Tell me you’ve brought your appetite with you? There are many things to choose from this morning, I wouldn’t want any of it to go to waste.”
“She’s telling you that you’re skinny,” Apollo tells Yordan dryly. “Eat a full plate or feel her wrath.”
Martha gasps, removing a tea towel from her shoulder to whack my son half-heartedly. “Don’t go spreading rumors about me, child.”
Apollo hikes a brow, watching her with humorless eyes. “Over thirty years old and still a child in your eyes, Martha?”
“You will stop being a child when you stop acting like one and marry as you should have by now,” she replies, folding her arms with disapproval.
I hide a smile, taking a sip of my coffee while observing the interaction in silence. Martha has been scolding Apollo about his bachelor choices since he turned twenty-five and still showed no interest in becoming wed. Though he doesn’t run around with women, she disapproves of his blasé attitude toward the sanctityof marriage. She’s quite traditional in some ways, but mostly, she just wishes for him to be happy.
A life without a partner is a lonely one, and Martha knows from experience. Hell,Iknow from experience as well.
Turning back to Yordan, she gives him a pleasant smile. “Come, I’ve stolen enough of your time. Do you like coffee or tea?”
As she spins around to get whatever he answers, Yordan finds me sitting at the small breakfast nook, nestled in a cozy corner of the kitchen. His eyes blow comically wide as he realizes that I’ve been here the entire time. I’m used to the look of terror that crosses many men’s faces when they see me, but Yordan looks more like he’s spotted a celebrity rather than a monster. It’s as curious as it is amusing.
Doing my best to appear casual and pleasant, I offer a dip of my head in his direction. I don’t want the boy to be scared, not while he’s a guest in my home. He hasn’t done anything to warrant my ire, nor do I feel the need to scare him into being cautious here. Especially if he is one day going to be family, andthatis the plan presently.
Apollo may be too stubborn and difficult to admit it, but he finds Rayna interesting. She speaks to him like he’s not the future Capo of The Outfit. She speaks to him like he’s a man, an infuriating one at that. A headstrong, challenging woman—a beautiful one at that—may just be exactly what my son needs to finally let someone in.
“Tea or coffee,” Apollo repeats, snapping Yordan out of his shock.
The teenager awkwardly clears his throat. “Erm, coffee, thank you.”
“Go on,” Martha encourages, nodding toward my table. “Go sit, he won’t bite.”
“Only into my breakfast,” I agree, attempting to lighten the tension in the air. Yordan’s nervousness is palpable, and I hope it won’t last long.
Apollo takes the first step, prompting Yordan and Elio to follow closely. As the group approaches, I stand slowly, attempting not to spook the newcomer further.
Extending my hand across the table, I nod in greeting. “Yordan, yes?”
