Indebted to the Mafia King
Adaptation

Eleni

I walk out of Tandon, my hands sore from furiously typing for the last two hours, and blink in the sunlight. No sign of Dante. My stomach sinks.

"Have you heard from him?" I ask Amando.

He shakes his head. I reach for my phone.

And a slick, black coupe pulls up in front of the school. The window buzzes down to reveal Dante inside. In unison, we sigh.

"Wait, why were you worried?" I ask.

He glances around. "I'll explain later. You ready for our day?"

I look at the tiny car, then at the guards.

"They'll follow behind." Dante smiles. "Come on."

I've never been able to say no to that smile.

***

I don't know what I expected when I asked to spend the day with Dante, but I didn't expect this. It's a little like the day I first visited the Tandon registrar. We wander the city, shopping aimlessly. Intentionally aimlessly, I realize, like Dante's trying to create a path no one can follow. Though that sends cold fingers of worry up my spine, I try to just enjoy him. We eat a long, late lunch. We register at random places for the wedding. A kitchen and bath store. A sex toy store, because they offer the option and it's too funny not to. A furniture store. It really looks like we're building a life together, not like we already have one.

Hand-in-hand, we walk past a baby store. My feet pause.

"El?" he asks.

"Is it safe to go in?" I murmur. "Or...?"

I don't need to ask if we're being watched. By the tension in Dante's shoulders, I already know. Something changed between that phone call and when he picked me up. I start to hurry on down the street, sick to my stomach with something other than pregnancy for the first time in a long time.

"No, wait." He doesn't move.

I pause.

His jaw works. "If it's not safe to go in, then it's already not safe to be pregnant."

I make the spitting noise.

"We can't have a baby with no things." He offers me a forced smile.

Somehow, this isn't how I expected our first baby shopping to go. But I walk inside with him.

The store unfolds in a patchwork of pastels. Cribs over there, playpens on the other side, and an absolute treasure trove of the tiniest toys and clothes I've ever seen in the middle. Tears sting my eyes as I drift up to an itty pair of sneakers. There are babies who wear these. Safe babies, who squirm as their mamas try to fit their fat little feet into faux leather and false laces. I don't even know what sex Baby is. I don't know anything.

Dante's hand is suddenly warm on the small of my back. "You think they'll be sporty?"

"I think they'll be scared," I whisper.

His hand tenses. I've shattered the fiction of this day.

"No," he says roughly.

I look up at him, the hard planes of his face, the slash of his mouth.

"Can we really leave?" I ask before I can stop myself.

He sighs. "I"

"I was looking at the documents." I run my fingers over the tiny sneakers. "Just trying to get a sense of the business. There's a Saints outpost in Brindisi, on the east coast of Italy, isn't there?"

"We can't talk about this here." He glances around. "I made us reservations with an old friend of mine. Can you wait until dinner?"

No. I'm bursting at the seams. But I pull the sneakers off the rack. "I can if we buy these."

The smile that blooms across his face is tired but honest. "Always."

***

The sky is red and purple with sunset, and I'm feeling beautiful in a new, sapphire-colored dress with an empire waist to hide my swelling stomach by the time Dante leads me up a few stairs to his "old friend's" place. A burly bouncer stands at the door.

"Reservation?" he says.

"Cattaneo," Dante replies. "Standing table."

The bouncer looks the two of us over, nods, and unhooks a velvet rope to let us into what really seems like just another brownstone.

"Giancarlo is a wizard," Dante says as we walk in. "He can do things with pasta you can't even imagine, but he has the worst authority problems I've ever seen. So he runs a less-than-legal restaurant out of his home. Perfect privacy." I laugh. Of course, this is where a mafioso takes his fiancée on a date. At least my laughter makes Dante smile.

Up the few steps, a waiter in all black welcomes us into a warm-toned living room. Beyond it, I can see three small tables, all curtained away from each other and open to the state-of-the-art kitchen. The waiter leads us to one, tells us brusquely this isn't the sort of place with menus, and starts to turn away.

"No swordfish," Dante declares. "Marlin or mackerel either. Nothing raw or unpasteurized."

The waiter makes a face like Dante's just pissed on his leg, but he nods and hurries away. Dante pulls out a chair for me, and I sit. There's a low hum of conversation in the room, but I don't know how many-if any of the tables are occupied. It's perfect.

"So, Brindisi," Dante says. "Why there?"

I swallow. "I was just looking, but...there's a ferry there. It goes straight between Greece and Italy, every day."

He smiles. "That ferry ride takes about eight hours. It's a two-and-a-half-hour flight."

"You've been checking?"

"I've been thinking." He sighs. "It's hard not to."

"Because of what happened earlier?" I peek up at him.

He laughs. "I can't keep shit from you, huh?"

I shake my head.

"Good." His smile lingers after his laughter stops. "We caught a Russian brigadier, and he said we had a rat."

My stomach drops to my toes just as the sour waiter arrives with two tiny glasses of something clear.

"Aperitif," he says.

Dante knocks them both back as soon as he leaves. A moment later, a portly man in a white coat steps into the kitchen. Giancarlo, probably. Classical music pours from invisible speakers, and he begins cooking. "Do you believe him?" I whisper.

"I have to." Dante looks grim. "Apparently, Fyodor's chasing me, too."

I put my hand on my stomach and try not to panic.

"If we left," Dante says, "what about Tandon?"

I shake my head. "Mama mentioned a school called NTU, in Athens. Apparently, it's very good for computer engineering."

"Athens is a six-hour direct flight from Brindisi." Dante twists his empty glass thoughtfully.

The word "rat" vibrates through my mind. I spit mentally, protecting Baby however I can. I should start carrying a gun again.

"Everything is different now," I murmur.

"Do you want to leave?" he asks for the first time in a long time. "I can send you away tonight. Parikia, Athens, Oklahoma, wherever you want."

My heart hammers against my rib cage. "No!"

Giancarlo glances up at me with a scowl. I lower my voice.

"Look, you were right in the beginning," I say urgently. "I should've left. But it's too late now."

"It's never-"

I shake my head, fighting to express the panic that rose up in me at the idea of leaving.

"I can't go anywhere without you," I say simply. "If you want out, I'll go. We can run the operation in Brindisi, or start a new operation, or become farmers. If you want to stay, I'll learn how to adapt. But I'm yours, Dante. I have been since the virginity auction. Tell me where to be so I can stop trying to be everywhere."

Giancarlo claps, and the waiter comes around with plates of a steaming, mushroom-heavy appetizer. Dante looks from the plate to me, then takes my hand and squeezes it.

"I don't make decisions without you anymore," he says.