“You should have told me the second you found out,” she chastises. “I can’t believe you’ve been sitting on that for two weeks.” She shakes her head, brushing past sadness and into anger again. “This whole time, you’ve been making me prove that I’m worthy of your trust. But what about proving yourself to me?”
“You’re right,” I admit. “I should have told you. But I didn’t, so all I can do now is promise that I’ll be more up front next time.”
Alexis laughs bitterly. “There better not be a next time. I’m not sure how many more life-changing secrets I can take.”
I wish I could see what’s going on inside her head. I barely knew my mother, so finding out that she wasn’t the woman I grew up believing she was wouldn’t be that hard a blow. Finding out she was Felicity Huffman, on the other hand…That would tear me apart.
“Alexis.” I take her hand, drawing her across the back seat until she is nestled against me. “I’m sorry you’re upset. I’m going to do everything I can to avoid giving you any more reasons to cry, because honestly, I’m not sure I can take it.”
She looks up, cracking a small smile. “The big Mafia man can’t handle a few girl tears?”
I smile back. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she says. “Though you’ve handed me the means of your destruction, and I think that was very unwise.”
I press a kiss into the top of her head. “You were always the means of my destruction. That’s never been a secret.”
Alexis has been to my penthouse apartment in the city once before, when we had lunch there as a family and conducted our first family interview. It looks a lot different tonight. The elevator door opens to a red carpet, which leads down the hall and to the oversized double doors at the end. When we go through the doors, the grand ballroom is lit by hundreds of candles. They are stacked on every surface and hang from lanterns on the ceiling. A buttery glow illuminates the faces of our guests, who are milling around the long banquet table when we enter.
Dom and his wife Mira smile at us from across the room. He is leaning on a wooden crutch but looks well otherwise. Mira’s eyes flit over Alexis and me. She’s wearing a pinched expression, her long blonde hair pulled back to emphasize her severe cheekbones and blazing blue eyes. One of the things my men’s wives always struggle with is their husbands’ undying loyalty to me over all others. Most are more graceful about it than Mira.
I scan the rest of the crowd. Antonio is standing front and center with a foaming beer and his wife, Sheila. Elia Conti is near the buffet with his wife, Aria. Mirko and his wife Gina are talking to Silvano, who stands out as the only single person in the room. Finally, Thomas Ricci and Piero Bianchi are clustered in the back of the room with their wives, Liz and Antonella.
All eyes turn to me, and I slide my hand around Alexis’ waist as I address the group. “Welcome. Thank you for joining us tonight.” I gesture to the table. “Please take a seat.”
Once everyone has sat, I walk to the table and pull out a chair at my right-hand side for Alexis, then take my seat at the head of the table.
All of the men here have seen Alexis before, if only in passing, but it’s obvious none of the wives have. They stare at her like she’s a tropical bird, and I might chastise them for their rudeness if my ego didn’t like it so much. Alexis is a sight to behold.
I glance at Alexis to see how she is holding up under the scrutiny and although her face is neutral, there is a panicked gleam in her eye. I’m disappointed. She’s my ferocious tiger. She’s not supposed to be afraid of anything.
I clear my throat and rise to my feet, holding my glass aloft. Perhaps a speech will set her more at ease.
“I am pleased to see all of your faces gathered before me,” I begin. “It has been far too long since we have convened like this. Until recently, the city has been overrun with enemies and rife with violence, and it is only due to the brave efforts of the men here that our operation maintains its strength in the face of such adversity.