Page 9 of Sins of the Father
John nodded. “Yes, boss.”
A chill settled inside Luc’s chest. “Then it’s going to work for us.”
John straightened. “Whatever you need.”
Luc turned to the fire. His father hadn’t moved from sentiment. This was a cunning long game. He just hadn’t lived long enough to pull the trigger. Now it fell to Luc. The Commission didn’t like that he was unmarried and without children. In their world, a don without a wife or an heir was incomplete. Marriage silenced whispers, stabilized his image, and made him harder to challenge. A stable don was also a more respected one. Still, it was a double-edged sword as family wasn’t just tradition—it was leverage. Proof of vulnerability that could be exploited. Paradoxically, their code forbade harm to women and children. Yet each don knew that betrayal set a blade at the soft throats of their family—held steady, waiting, until the moment it slid in without mercy.
Luc kept his mother and brother close but separate—legacy, not liabilities. But a wife? She’d carry the name. Children? They carried the future. And the future was what enemies aimed for. Luc rose and crossed to the windows overlooking the sweep of his estate’s lawn. A wife had never been part of his plans—hell, he hadn’t even considered it, not even when he knew marriage could make the other men on the Commission less wary of him. But if the Bonino deal gave him ground, information, and enough territories to become the head of the Commission, he’d take it. Swallowing the Boninos would expand his power and holdings. The Boninos weren’t strong anymore, but they still had reach—and in his world, reach was power.
Luc turned to John. “I assume you’ve got intel before bringing this to me?”
“Yes, sir.”
John stood, walked over and handed him a folder. Luc flipped through it fast. His eyes landed on her name—Mia Bonino. Twenty-three. Lives at St. Mary’s nunnery for more than fifteen years. Mother dead. Father dead. No siblings. She has no visitors.
He tossed the file on the desk and exhaled.
“She really doesn’t know anything about the life?” The awareness of it was oddly refreshing. Luc stiffened. He should never allow himself such a thought. Trust had to be earned, and even if she had lived within convent walls since birth, she could still carry an angle to be revealed.
John raked his fingers through his hair. “I thought it unusual as well, but I checked. That woman has no clue. Her father did not seem to have involved her at all”
Luc’s jaw tightened. A sheltered girl with no idea of their world was complicated. Most daughters knew their place, the weight of family ties. But this woman was raised apart, molded into something far from what was expected. Her father either protected her or kept her as a pawn from the game. Either way, Luc would have to be careful. Bringing her in required finesse.
He leaned against the mantle, rubbing his temple. “What’s she like?”
John shifted. “Quiet. Keeps to herself. Volunteers at a library and tutor kids. No social media, and no vices. If she has friends, they’re not anyone we know. She’s…” He hesitated. “Without a doubt, Miss Bonino is different. She is not jaded. Doesn’t carry the weight most of us do.”
Luc’s voice dropped low. “John.”
They locked eyes.
“Don’t ever hold out on me again.”
John’s face tightened, then he nodded. “Understood, sir.”
Luc held the look a moment longer, then dismissed him with a flick of his wrist. “Close the door.”
After John left, Luc poured a whiskey and drank deeply, his eyes on the flames licking in the hearth.
A wife.
He scowled. Even though he saw the sense in forming this alliance, he did not like being manipulated into it. Mia Bonino was the chess piece his father had chosen. The fire crackled across the room, casting long shadows on the stone walls. Luc rolled the empty glass in his palm, watching the amber residue catch the light. He hoped she wasn’t one of those women seeking love and tender sentiment in marriage, because he had none of that nonsense to give.
His life had never been about love or softness. Mistakes weren’t fixed; they were punished. Success wasn’t praised; it was demanded. Emotions were a liability, and rigid control over oneself was an asset that could save one’s life. He learned to read people before he learned long division. By thirteen, he knew the street price of heroin in three boroughs. By fifteen, he sat in back rooms, watching men afraid to blink under his father’s gaze.
While other kids chased girls and partied, Luc studied under the exacting and ruthless tutelage of his father and their life. Nothing was ever casual or a mistake. Every word, every look had a purpose, and Luc was expected to find it.
For him, girls had been unpredictable, emotional, and risky. He saw classmates fall into crushes and heartbreaks. Luc didn’t kiss behind lockers. He had flings—brief and forgettable. His father taught that love was a weakness no man could afford if he wanted to rule anything bigger than his own bedroom.
Love made people sloppy. Vulnerable. In their world, there was no room for softness. He even saw the lesson in his family. His parents married for power. His mother played her part flawlessly. But sometimes Luc caught her staring out the window, rain tracing the glass, a flicker of something lost in her eyes.
At sixteen, he became a made man. Younger than most. No grand ceremony—just a cut finger, a burning saint’s card, and a vow in Sicilian. That same year, given a gun for the first time in real danger, Luc hesitated for a split second before pulling the trigger. A shot had grazed his side. If the man hadn’t been so shaky and overeager to take him down, Luc might have been gravely wounded or dead. His father had stepped in and fired the killing shot. Then looked him in the eye.
“Hesitation gets men killed.”
Luc never hesitated again. A soft sigh escaped him, uncharacteristic for Luc. What if he pushed the alliance onto his brother instead? He went still, turning the possibility over in his mind. Antonio, the second son, played by different rules. He had more freedom, more jokes after jobs, more smiles. But the roles were clear. Luc handled politics and the long game. Antonio enforced it with muscle and loyalty. Luc carried the legacy; Antonio protected it.
He quickly dismissed the thought. Antonio had no interest in the Commission, and marrying Mia Bonino would get Luc several steps closer to what he truly wanted.
