Xenia Butler
From the moment Romano and I departed Renata's place, silence enveloped us like a heavy fog, lingering even now as we sat trapped in this frustrating traffic. It was as if the universe was whispering a truth I couldn't ignore about our destiny together.
And it wasn't promising.
How did I come to this realization?
It was in the way our happiness always seemed to vanish when we were alone, only to reappear in the presence of others. Whether we were adept at masking our strained relationship from the world or not, the damage was undeniable.
At Renata's, during the tension of Romano's call to his devotee, we had managed to share laughter, briefly easing the strain. For a moment, we were a united front, a seamless team. I dared to believe that the frost between us had melted, but I was mistaken.
An hour ago, another call came: Katie had touched down in Sicily. Despite the urge to flee this car and reclaim my independence from this infuriating fool, I fought to suppress my nausea and anxiety. My entire existence revolved around him, clinging to the illusion of perfection he offered, no matter how twisted it may seem.
Romano's grip on the wheel remained firm, his other hand propping up his jaw as he stared ahead with a distant gaze. Tension radiated from him, palpable even in the confined space of the car.
But why?
The last time Katie crossed my radar was during my collaboration with Ivan to dismantle the TIF. Ivan had dropped a hint about Romano's involvement with a woman named Katie, though her last name eluded me now. Yet, I could recognize her from photos and knew she had a long history with Romano.
Initially, our plan involved leveraging her to get to him, but as Ivan peeled back her layers, he realized she was steel for him—a force I could never match.
Jealousy consumed me. I was furious and frustrated, unable to comprehend why he would rendezvous with her. I knew their history likely stretched far beyond my time in Bologna, so I wasn't even in the running. That's why I insisted on following him the moment he got word of her presence at the airport. Romano wasn't thrilled with my decision to accompany him to meet his whore, but he didn't protest because he understood one simple truth: I wouldn't believe him if he claimed nothing had happened between them unless I saw it with my own eyes.
No one could blame me. Expecting a polygamist to change without ensuring it was like playing a fool's game. Romano, from all indications, wasn't the monogamous type, so if I wanted that to change, I couldn't sit idly in a hotel while he met with a woman he was intimate with. A woman he could dare text while I gave him a blowjob.
I had to be completely involved in all of his affairs, especially when it involved this particular woman. His devotee.
By now, the traffic had eased, allowing us to move forward. We made a turn and before long, we were driving towards the Vincenzo Florio Airport. Its sleek, modern architecture stood out against the backcloth of rolling hills and clear blue skies. The terminal building stretched upward, its glass facade shimmering in the night sky.
Cars and taxis bustled around the entrance, passengers coming and going with a sense of purpose. The chaos was organized. It was no match for my internal turmoil.
As the car rolled to a stop in the parking lot, Romano let out a breath he'd been holding, unaware that I had observed his subtle shift in tension and composure. It was a fleeting moment, but one that spoke volumes to those trained to understand his moods.
"Wait in the car," he instructed me, and in that moment, my heart shattered. I had followed him here, hoping for some semblance of support or reassurance, but I realized now that was too much to ask. What had I expected? For him to hold me close, to walk beside me as we faced this together, like the perfect couple?
Respecting his need for privacy, I nodded silently. "Don't take too long. I'm tired already."
"Alright," he replied, and with that, he stepped out of the car, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the uncertainty of this whole situation.
$$$
Romano De Rosi
When I tore my gaze away from my phone, I noticed Katie approaching. I had phoned her to disclose my location in the carpark, yet the arrangement left me uneasy. I would have preferred if we were in a car, a more secluded setting, not because I desired to touch her, but simply to alleviate the awkwardness.
She moved with an aura stained with uncertainty. Katie was known for her confidence and typically didn't carry herself as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.
Her emerald dress shimmered under the carpark lights as she advanced, her expression devoid of any smile. She wore brown flats with minimal heels, her hair dancing freely in the wind. She appeared different, perhaps paler and more drained, or perhaps the absence of seeing her for over a week had skewed my perception.
For the first time in ages, my initial reaction upon seeing her wasn't pleasure; it was concern. I didn't want her to undress; instead, I wanted to understand what was troubling her.
"How are you?" I inquired as she halted before me.
"Somewhere between screwed and devastated," she replied, devoid of any smile, her demeanor firm.
I reached out, clasping her hand and drawing her nearer, gently brushing her short black hair away from her face. Despite the damning red lipstick, which evoked memories of unspeakable things, a darker thought flickered in my mind: was she leaving?
"It can't be that bad, Kate," I said, more hopeful than reassuring. "Tell me. You've never hesitated to confide in me, just as I've never hesitated to offer help."
In an instant, tears welled up in her eyes, her voice quivering even more than the wind. The sky remained somber, mirroring the darkness within her. Katie averted her gaze from the sky and withdrew her hand from mine.
"This time, it's different. I never intended for it to happen, and I'm not trying to set you back or cause you any problems—"
"Damn it, Kate! Get to the point. You're not making any sense."
With a firm nod, she turned away, briefly sashaying out of my reach. My eyes involuntarily traced her curves.
Katie stood at an average height, her slender yet athletic frame proposing strength and agility, though she wasn't as tough as she appeared. Her shoulders were gracefully proportioned, tapering down to a defined waistline. With a straight posture and a poised demeanor, it was evident to anyone that she was a woman who was confident in her own skin, which explained why the men at RoyalGrey had eyes on her.
And why I couldn't help but be drawn to her.
Returning to her previous position with tears streaming down her cheeks, Katie nervously bit her lip, threatening to draw blood. She sank to her knees, prompting me to glance around the carpark. "I beg of you Romano. Do not hate me after you hear this."
We were in an airport, and the likelihood of someone witnessing this scene was high. Moreover, Katie never knelt before me unless under different circumstances. But now, she was begging, crying, and apologizing.
I despised it all. Instead of pulling her up, I lowered myself to her level, balancing on one knee. "Why the hell are you crying and apologizing? This is absurd. I don't appreciate it," I stated, my tone shifting from diplomatic to commanding. "Tell me what the hell is wrong, or I'll—"
"I'm pregnant, Romano," her words halted mine in their tracks. "I'm expecting your child. And please don't ask me how I know it's yours. I may be a whore, but I'm a woman..."
I zoned out completely.
As Katie's words lingered around, time stopped. The world faded into the background, leaving just blurs and shadows. My mind raced, grappling with the enormity of her confession.
Pregnant.
A child.
My child?
Questions swirled in my mind, demanding answers. How was this even possible? Our protocols were stringent—our women received scheduled contraceptive shots, and I always used protection.
As if reading my thoughts, Katie spoke up with a voice trembling slightly. "18th, in your car, in front of the club..."
She didn't need to say more. The memory flooded back with startling clarity. That night, I had gone to her place, reeling from the disappointment of a lead gone cold in our pursuit of Xenia. What started as innocent conversation about the state of affairs at RoyalGrey quickly escalated into something more intense.
And there, in the driver's seat of my car, I had let my guard down, dismissing the need for precautions in the heat of the moment. I had convinced myself that she was still on her contraceptive shots, forgetting that since RoyalGrey's closure, most of the women had stopped taking them unless requested by clients. And she hadn't been one of the women.
But I had pulled out, hadn't I?
The doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of my mind like a relentless predator.
Katie's admission echoed through my thoughts, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation. Even within her profession, there were boundaries she respected, and lying about something as significant as this would only erode the trust between us.
I wanted to entertain doubts, to question whether she was certain it was mine, but I couldn't bring myself to stoop to such cowardice.
In the face of inner chaos, I tried to hold onto steadiness in my voice. "How long have you known for?"
"Six days." Her tone was heavy with remorse. In that moment, I realized that it wasn't just her mistake; it usually took two people to create a life, after all.
"I tried to schedule an appointment with the doctor to take care of it," continuing on, her words were steeped in regret, "but Serafina insisted that I tell you first. She thinks it's selfish to make such a decision of terminating your child without your knowledge, and I'll get into trouble due to my lack of papers."
The word "child" still felt foreign on my tongue, difficult to say or even believe. At thirty-three, the idea of fatherhood had rarely crossed my mind. The fear of repeating the mistakes of my own father had always made me hesitant to bring a child into this world. In truth, the similarities between him and me were more striking than the differences, the latter so subtle they were easily drowned out.
I dreaded that.
I had no clue how to raise a child, let alone one of my own. Love was a rare commodity in my world, replaced instead by an iron fist and the harsh realities of life. Katie and I lacked the stable foundation needed to raise a child, our relationship nothing more than a tangled web of physical intimacy. If I were to confide in my associates, their immediate response would likely be to pressure me into marrying her, ensuring that the child of the Don, whether temporary or not, would be raised under the proper care and training, securing his place as the next heir to the TIF.
But how could I make a difference? How could I be a good father when I had already made mistakes, starting with the circumstances of his birth? And what kind of father would I be, subjecting him to the same teachings that were ingrained in my soul, some of which I despised?
Pressing on, Katie's voice betrayed her apprehension, perhaps misinterpreting my silence as anger. "Removing it won't be a problem," those words weighted with sincerity. "Telling you was the hardest part, but it was the right thing to do. Please don't see it as an attempt to manipulate you or stir up trouble, especially after finding Xenia. I swear on the memories of my mother."
I had known Katie for over eight years, and in that time, she had never given me reason to doubt her. What we shared wasn't love in the conventional sense; it was a bond of unconditional acceptance and understanding. She had been there for more than half of my relationships, both sexual and otherwise.
In a way, she had been the woman who offered, without knowing, the ins and outs of affairs, whether they were enough or not. Our encounters and conversations had shaped me into the man I was today, and I couldn't trade those experiences for anything.
I knew that getting pregnant for me wasn't part of Katie's plan either. She had her own life to live, and tying herself to a loveless union wasn't in her best interest. She was well aware of my feelings for Xenia, and if she thought she could use this situation to compete with her, she would be sorely mistaken.
"Please say something," she urged, inching closer to me but ultimately retracting her hand, but I ordered, straightening myself despite the uncomfortable gaze of onlookers,
"Stand."
She obeyed.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for this."
"Quit apologizing, Hewitt," I snapped.
She froze, her expression draining of color as I used her last name. I hadn't addressed her by that since after our early days together, and I couldn't explain why I'd resorted to it now.
Katie wasn't Italian, nor was she a legal citizen; she was a Montenegrin immigrant who had entered Italy unlawfully with her brother and mother in search of a better life. Tragically, her mother had passed away from heart failure just eleven months later. At sixteen, she had witnessed her mother's death at home due to fear of seeking medical help and risking discovery of their undocumented status.
Katie's life story didn't evoke a smile on anyone's face because shortly after, she endured rape and abuse from men familiar with her situation, who threatened to alert authorities. With no options back in Montenegro, she complied with their demands. For three years, she and her brother struggled to survive on the streets of Palermo, enduring beatings, assault, and torture.
Unable to decide whether is was fortunate or unfortunate for Salvatore to have found her in the streets and taken her in, I was grateful that he'd auctioned her off to my uncle, Santo, after a month. She wasn't Santo's type of course, but he had put her in Nova for a bit and my father had taken her to RoyalGrey.
At twenty years old, she crossed paths with me for the first time when I decided to step up and fulfill my duties. In reality, I had known her for more than nine years, and I always felt compassion for the challenges she faced. It seemed her only option for survival was to continue working as a woman of the night.
I always had a problem with the hardships Katie endured and the only means she had to survive—selling herself. The thought of subjecting her to further torment by asking her to keep the baby was unbearable. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to openly condone terminating a life, especially one that shared my DNA, one that I had unknowingly brought into existence.
I stood at a crossroads, my mind rigid with indecision. This unexpected pregnancy threatened to upend everything, sending a shiver down my spine at the mere thought. My heart raced at the implications, knowing full well that Xenia, for obvious reasons, would never accept this reality. Katie herself seemed unprepared for the weight of impending motherhood. And as for me? I bore the weight of my duty to protect the Family, a responsibility that extended to Katie and now my unborn child, and to open up to the woman I craved.
There was no room for doubt or hesitation.
I had to act decisively.
Taking her arm gently, I brushed her tear off and the firmness to address the matter came from nowhere. "Katie, terminating the pregnancy is not an option."
"What?" Her shock reverberated through the air. "But I thought...I thought that was the only option. Romano, I can't work while pregnant, and I can't raise a child without a job..."
"The child has a father." My tone sharpened and I waited for the consequence of my words to sink in. "That's me. Yeah, you're right, you can't work while pregnant, and I won't allow it. Retirement has come early for you. You should be grateful for that."
"Never!" Katie's voice quickly increased in pitch as she stepped back, dangerously close to the path of an oncoming car. "Take back those words, or I'll end it all right here."
"What the hell are you doing? Get back here!" I shouted, panic gripping me as I lunged forward to pull her away from the oncoming vehicle.
With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I acted swiftly, yanking her to safety just as the car screeched to a halt, its horn blaring in protest.
I held her close, feeling the frantic rhythm of her heart against mine. The sheer gravity of the situation was staggering. Katie was scared, whether of the decision at hand or my reaction, it didn't matter. "Don't ever do that again," I admonished her, releasing her from my embrace as she stumbled backward.
Her dark eyes locked with mine and I restated, "Don't ever threaten to end your life in front of me."
I hadn't yelled out my demand but she sensed the severity and nodded slightly, tears streaming down her face. "This can't work, Romano," she choked out between sobs. "I can't bear your child. You're to be the Don, so and I'll always be a part of your life. There's no fate worse than that."
Though I maintained a firm stance, Katie humbled herself to the knees and resumed pleading. "It won't happen again. It's my mistake, and I'll take care of it. Just act like you weren't told."
But her words only highlighted the dilemma I was already facing. I couldn't simply pretend ignorance when I knew the truth. "It's done, okay? What's done is done," I reiterated firmly. "I'll take you to Bologna myself tomorrow."
Her desperation escalated as she pleaded further, "You're not going to tell them, are you? Not Xenia. She'll hate you, I'll hate you. Don Morelli would be disappointed, your uncle would mock you. Your mother—"
"Enough!" I cut her off sharply, unable to bear any more of her arguments. She was right; revealing the truth would bring chaos and disappointment, but I couldn't ignore the life being risked. I couldn't bring myself to be a coward, sending Katie off to a doctor only to return knowing my own decision had destroyed my child.
It was unthinkable, and I felt sorry that Katie had been dragged into this mess.
I wasn't being selfish, though. I wasn't ready for fatherhood either. But if Katie viewed my decision as selfish, she wasn't considering the life of the child. Even the thought of losing my title as Don and the possibility of Xenia leaving me over this news couldn't sway me: I couldn't entertain an abortion. I just couldn't.
"I've made my decision, Kate, end of discussion."
With a gesture for her to follow, I led Katie to the car. I would take her to the hotel for the night, then back Bologna tomorrow, where she'd be under the care and watch of my family until I returned. I couldn't trust her actions; women had ways of miscarrying if they so wished.
Even if it meant facing Xenia's wrath and explaining my actions, I was willing to endure it to protect the child's life. While my emotions roiled inside, I remained adamant about not repeating my father's mistakes.
And the first action in averting errors before the child's birth was to secure the child's life from the start. This I would do without a doubt in my mind.