WHITE RABBIT

9(GABRIELLE LOMBARDI)

Nobody knows how to say goodbye
It seems so easy 'til you try
Then the moments passed you by
Nobody knows how to say goodbye

*unedited*

"Bunny, why was there five hundred thousand dollars deposited into your account?" Vinnie asks as I walk into the house.

Vinnie and I have been married since I was eighteen and he was twenty-eight. He still treats me as if he's still tryna pull me hence the pet name, BUNNY. He's a goofball.

"Did it say who it was from?" I ask as I look into his blue eyes.

I have an idea but I'll let him tell me. His peppered black eyebrows crinkle together as if he's thinking hard about something. His grey hair tickles his tan forehead as he frowning lines begin to show.

My husband aged prematurely. It runs in his family and let me tell you they do RUN. They're big on exercise and I'm not. I'm lazy when I'm not working. But who isn't?

"Dimitri Volkov," he replies. "I had to think for a second."

"Most likely because I saved his wife's life today. She came in with a bunch of stab wounds, a blown off arm, and needed an emergency caesarean," I reply. "There was a shooter at the Volkov building today. They were there. Your uncle Geo tried to murder Delilah Volkov and everyone in the lobby. People were flooding in for hours."

"Did they catch him? Put him in jail?" Vinnie's broken English resurfaces for a brief second making me smile at him.

He has been in the states for half his life and still has trouble. It's cute and I make no effort to correct him because he only does it when he's shocked.

"A little girl sliced his throat before he could kill anymore," I reply. "They took her to jail and will most likely put her away for a while."

"First it was the broken jaw and concussion and now this. Thank god I didn't have to off him," Vinnie mutters.

We make our way into the kitchen as one of our maids sets out our plates on the island. We sit down on the barstools and begin to eat. Our days are completely different from each other's. I get up and go straight to the hospital while Vinnie works from home to keep an eye on our eight going on nine kids. Vinnie manages the businesses from here and occasionally goes to the office. All of the kids are homeschooled and will be homeschooled until eighth grade.

"How were the kids today?" I ask.

"The same as they usually are," Vinnie replies. "A pain in my ass."

We have an equal amount of girls and boys. It's odd how they line up though. It goes Colby, Kasey, Chase, Kendal, Charlie, Kenzie, Cash, and Kayley. We are expecting another boy and we are going to name is Cason.

"They can't be that bad," I tease before shoving a piece of meat into my mouth.

"Well, if you see bruises amongst two of their faces then you'll know how my day went," he responds.

"What'd they do?" I ask.

"Kasey and Kendal got into an argument over a toy and started fighting," he replies.

The Lombardi family is a very large family hence the seven kids we already have. We are the biggest and greatest Italian Mafia. It's been passed through the men in the family for decades and it's goes to the first born male so when Vinnie gives up his spot of inevitably dies Colby will fill his spot.

We have three enemies:

The Mexican Cartel

The Irish Mafia

American Mafia

The Russians, as in the Volkov family, are allies when need be but mind their business nonetheless. We call on them when we need help and they call on us when they need it. I have a feeling that Vinnie will visit Dimitri Volkov at some point. Why? Because we can't let one Italian man fuck up the rest of us.

"What toy was it?" I ask.

When the kids get in trouble over a toy or start fighting over one, it magically disappears and ends up in the trash or I donate it to the hospital. I don't treat them or spoil them as most rich parents do because I was not raised that way. I will not have my kids thinking or acting in a privileged mindset.

"A doll," he replies. "I don't threw it out though so no need to worry."

"Delilah Volkov had triplets," I blurt out. "A boy and two girls. Dimitri names them Thayer Watson, Meadow Alexandria, and Trixie Rose."

"Cute," he murmurs. "We are having one more after Kayley. Boy or girl is fine. If it's boy we can name him Cody or something and if it's a girl we can name her Keegan or Kennedy."

"So no more than eight kids is what you're telling me?" I ask.

His mother only had two before dying and his father never remarried. His grandfather and grandmother on his dad's side had like ten or so kids. Very fertile family.

"Maybe," he murmurs. "If we have more, I don't want to have them as close together, you know? It'll be a madhouse when they go to private or public school."

"Understandable."

The triplets lay quietly in their incubators. The boy, Thayer, has long legs much longer than the rest of his body. His hair is pitch black and his eyes haven't opened yet. Meadow has bright red hair and the tiniest freckles. She's short and sort of chubby, I guess you could say. Trixie is the most developed baby out of the three. She has the black hair, freckles, and the long legs. She has blue eyes with a little splash of brown.

"They're cute," Vinnie murmurs.

"What are you doing here?" A familiar voice fills our ears.

I turn and see Dimitri standing beside us with bags of food in his hands. He's in defensive mode mostly because people are going to want to kill his kids. He's notorious in our lifestyle and the most hated.

"I've come to talk to you," Vinnie replies. "Bunny, why don't you take this food to Miss Delilah."

"Okay," I murmur as Dimitri hands me the food.

"You can have some if you'd like. She may not want to share but if you tell her I told her too she will," Dimitri blurts out.

I take the food and make my way to Delilah's room. I knock on the door and make my way in. I set the food down on her small table and look at her. She squints at me and cocks up a brow.

She's quite pale and looks like she's in pain. Her hair is on top of her head in a messy bun and her make up is done. She's beautiful overall.

"Are you hungry?" She asks.

"No, not really," I reply. "My nine year old made pancakes this morning."

"You have a nine year old?" She asks.

"Yes," I reply. " I have a nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, and two year old. I also have one in the oven. A total of nine kids. I might even pop out three more."

"I'm only twenty-two with three kids," she murmurs. "How old are you?"

"Twenty eight."