Indebted to the Mafia King
Country Air

Eleni

"Let me get that." Dante swoops into my path and tries to grab the full plate of pasta out of my hands.

I hold on with a small smile. "I've been walking for two days. I think I can handle carrying my own dinner."

"You are stubborn." He kisses the tip of my nose. "Can I take your glass instead?"

I nod, and he lets go. He's been doting on me for the last three days, barely letting me do anything.

It's sweet, but it's also driving me insane. I pad from the kitchen into the living room and sit on the couch. Dante's pasta and his glass of wine wait on the coffee table. I set mine next to his, and a moment later, he appears with my glass of sparkling apple juice. We both look at it for a moment. Dr. Fletcher hasn't called yet. I haven't gotten my period yet. Without talking about it, Dante and I both agreed I'm not going to drink until we know one way or the other. "What do you want to watch tonight?" I ask, shattering the spell.

He passes me the glass and blinks a few times. "I picked last night. It's your turn."

I grab the remote, my muscles still ache but it's definitely better. And I've gotten good at containing the wince that makes Dante worry. I really am fine.

"No complaints?" I ask.

He sighs, trying to look put-upon, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. I put on a rom-com I've seen a thousand times and settle in. Despite my injuries and the other lingering scars of my time with Camila and the Russians, it feels a little like the first time we stayed here, that first week of nothing but flirting and touching and making each other smile. And I grab my plate before Dante can hand it to me we have a deadline waiting for us in the city.

My semester starts in two more days. In New York City.

Neither of us are bringing it up. The one time I tried, Dante's whole demeanor shifted, and he said I needed at least three armed guards. I didn't even disagree, still don't, but the way he said it...I don't know.

There's something in the air now. Every time the Russians come up, Dante seems just on the right side of feral. And if I'm being completely honest, when I think about returning to the city, living in that apartment with or without Dante, nerves prickle up my spine. Camila escaped. Nobody has any idea who the Russians' boss is. Everything is different now.

Dante laughs so hard at one of the jokes he nearly dumps his pasta on the couch, startling me out of my thoughts.

"I told you it was good!" I say.

"Tell anyone about this and we're moving to Siberia," he replies.

I shake my head and open my mouth to tell him he'd look cute in a little fur hat, but his phone rings. Both of us freeze. It's either trouble in the city or Dr. Fletcher. After a second ring, Dante picks it up. I pause the movie. "Uh-huh... Yes, I understand... That makes sense...Okay, thank you, Adelaide."

My heart leaps into my throat. Adelaide is the nurse who stuck around for the first day to help Dante take care of me. We're about to know, one way or the other. He hangs up and sets his phone in his lap.

"Just tell me," I rush out, my cheeks flaring with sudden heat. I don't know how I'm going to feel. Part of me is elated, ready, practically in pieces with excitement. Part of me feels nothing but gut-wrenching guilt for being so fucking irresponsible when so much is at risk right now.

"You're pregnant," Dante says softly.

I'm pregnant. My heart races. I put a hand on my stomach. Somewhere in there, a little baby is growing. A little baby endured the Russians with me. A little baby might have to go back to the city to get the computer engineering degree I've always dreamed of.

Dante doesn't say anything else. I don't know what to feel, what to think.

"Are you upset?" I ask.

"No." Dante sets his plate and mine on the table, then turns to me. His dark gaze is warm, inviting. "Never. Fuck, El, I'm thrilled. Having a family with you is a dream come true."

I run my thumb over his split cheek softly and study his face. His eyes pour love and belief into me, but I know him better than that by now. I can tell by the slight pinch in his eyebrows, the tiny downturn of his mouth, that he means what he's saying, he wants this, and he's just as terrified as I am about what this means.

"Okay." I nod. "Me too."

"Good." Dante sounds like he's trying not to pop the fragile balloon of hope between us. He grabs the plates from the table. "So then we'll finish dinner and have an early night."

I take mine and switch the movie back on.

***

We're still moving around each other like the news of the baby is glass by the time we're getting ready for bed. We brush our teeth in quiet unison. Dante strips off most of his clothes and falls into the sheets in a pair of boxers. I change into one of his T-shirts from his football days, even bigger on me than most of his clothes, and a pair of clean panties. The wide, white bandage on my ribs crinkles slightly as I do. It's such a shallow cut that it feels silly to keep bandaging, but Adelaide was very specific. I crawl into bed next to him.

"I love you," I say, trying to put enough weight behind it to puncture the glass.

"I love you too." Dante smiles distantly and reaches for the light switch on his side of the bed. "Night, El."

The room goes dark. I lay on my back, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. Dante flips one way, then the other, then turns his pillow over like it's already hot. I stare blankly at the ceiling, imagining the cracks from my cell. "How are we going to keep a baby safe?" I blurt.

The glass shatters. Dante shuffles closer to me and wraps a gentle arm around my waist. "I don't know."

I swallow against sudden tears. It's not safe for us to have a family, no matter how much we want it. The smart move would be to get rid of the baby. But those words burn like what I can now confidently call morning sickness. "How many kids would you want?" I whisper into the darkness instead.

Dante's answering chuckle is velvety. "Three. But I'd rather have more than less."

"Three is a lot to give birth to." I smile shakily. "It seems the first trimester doesn't agree with me."

He runs his hand over my stomach. "We can always adopt. Or foster. I just want a full house. Growing up an only child is very lonely."

I nod. "Siblings drive you insane, but it's nice not to be alone in the world."

Quiet falls. That distance threatens again. What he just mentioned is a silly dream. We can't adopt. We can't be foster parents.

We're in the fucking mafia.

"What if we ran away?" Dante murmurs against my neck.

My heart skips a beat. "Our whole lives are here."

"That's not true." He kisses my tender skin. "Mama's in Greece."

I laugh. "You want to go to Greece? We'd spend the rest of our lives fighting with Theia Adriani. She might be the worst boss of them all-❞

"We have enough money, El." His kisses grow a little more insistent. "I could take both of you all three of you away from Parikia. We'll go wherever there's a good engineering school."

Between his touch and the picture he's painting, it's impossible not to fall into him. "I'll transfer my credits from Tandon. But you and Mama will need something to do, so you'll open a restaurant."

I feel his smile against my neck. "Mama will cook. I'll run the numbers." He nips me softly. "You can waitress in your off hours, if you haven't lost the knack."

I swat him. "Why do you think we're having so many kids? We'll raise a gaggle of perfect servers."

He laughs, open and free. "And when you get your degree, you'll go get some fancy job that keeps the family restaurant afloat. I'll work part-time and take care of the kids the rest of the time." He ghosts a hand up over one of my breasts, and my body lights.

"It's perfect," I whisper.