Indebted to the Mafia King
Funeral

Tony

It's a very cloudy day in New York this morning, suitable for a funeral. It's as if God knows people are mourning the loss of a beloved member of their family. I'm not particularly grieving, but I can't help but feel sad. I know the reason behind it, but I choose to think it has everything to do with the fact that Carlo was one of us-and not because of his daughter.

I park my car in front of the church and brace myself for what's to come. It's been a few days since I heard about his death, so it's understandable why there are so many people here. Everyone had enough time to fly over to New York-the ones who don't live here at least.

The church is surrounded by a crowd in black, chattering and waiting for the service to start. I take a deep breath and step out of my SUV, heading inside the church. I blend into a sea of black suits and crying women, greeting everyone I know on my way.

I'm not surprised to see Carlo had a lot of friends in his life. Dante told me once that his father trusted Carlo like his own flesh and blood. I've learned in my time as Boss that that means more than having a trusted capo at your side. Having a brother, even one birthed by the streets instead of by blood, is often the difference between life and death when things go south.

Most of the Saints are also here-except the ones I have out in the field, doing their rounds and shit.

I have to give it to Armando, handling everything and helping the wives to prepare the funeral service-which included shipping the old man's body to New York so he could be buried in his hometown. That wasn't fucking cheap, but it was the least I could do for Chloe and Nicky. It's my job to take care of them now, after all.

The church looks nice and peaceful, with the colorful stained glass windows casting a rainbow of beams all over the place, making it look almost ethereal. I notice a table filled with flowers at the corner, from those who are present and those who couldn't attend. I glance over the signed cards and a familiar name catches my attention.

Dante and Eleni sent their condolences in the form of a huge bouquet of yellow tulips, apparently Carlo's favorite. Dante told me he wouldn't be able to be here since Eleni is due to have their third child any day now. That's a lot of kids to take care of. I have no idea how Dante does it, but he seems to have adjusted to this new type of life just fine.

Sounds kind of boring if you ask me, but who am I to judge?

I lift my head to take in the familiar-and not so familiar-faces around me. There's a lot of people here I've only seen once or twice, who I can't even remember the names of. And others that I see every fucking day.

One in particular has me grinning and walking away from the table. The boss of the Irish Kings in New York, Cal, waves at me, his dark red hair styled back with gel, his light brown eyes widening slightly.

"Didn't think you'd be here today," he says in his soft Irish accent as a way of greeting when I approach him, and pats me on the shoulder with more strength than necessary. I bite my lip so as not to curse him.

Cal and I have become close friends during the time I've been running the Saints, and even closer allies. He's proven to be a reliable businessman more times than I can count, and an even better company during evenings when I need a fucking drink.

"It comes with the job," I muse in response, shrugging.

Cal grunts in agreement. "Brought a few o' me men to pay their respects too," he tells me, looking around. "Is the daughter of the old man the same one you brought to the club that night two years ago? The blonde lass?" he emphasizes, reminding me of that same day I can't seem to get out of my mind, no matter what I do.

"What are you talking about?" I feign ignorance, even though I know exactly what he's talking about.

He sneers, the freckles on his face crunching alongside his big nose.

Why is this fucking service taking so long to start?

"Don't fuckin' mess with me, lad. I recognize a pretty face when I see one."

I roll my eyes, but then Cal points at something behind my back, and when I turn on my heels to see what this is about, I can no longer play dumb.

Because there, in the middle of the crowd of wives, stands the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

"The blonde lass," he repeats close to my ear as if I'm deaf. I can hear the note of sarcasm in his voice, and I fight the urge to punch him in the face, even if we're inside a church.

As my eyes roam over Chloe, it feels as though the entire world around me fades away and time stands still. It's been two years since the last time I saw her, and somehow, she looks even more stunning than before. Her smooth blonde hair cascades over her shoulder and down her back, contrasting with her plain black dress. Even though there's nothing remarkable about her outfit, it hugs her just in the right places while maintaining the decency required for such a respectful event.

I can't tell if she's wearing any makeup, but again, she is so effortlessly beautiful that I wouldn't be surprised if she weren't. Her lips are a bit pale though, and her intoxicating blue eyes are swollen and red from crying.

As if summoned by my staring, Chloe's gaze meets mine, and it's like I'm being pulled into a whirlpool. How come she still holds this much power over me? It's fucking ridiculous. I'm not one to be controlled...by anyone. But she seems to hold this force over me that I can't escape from.

I notice that her lips tremble a bit, and unexplainably, I think it has something to do with me. But why would it? Of course she's just fucking sad because her father died.

Get your shit together, Tony.

I think about offering her a comforting smile from afar, but before I know it, my legs are working on their own accord.

"Excuse me," I say to Cal. He mumbles some shit to me that sounds like "I knew it", but I can't replace it in me to be bothered and give him an answer. My focus is solely on Chloe as I wade through the crowd to get to her. But as if fate is laughing at me, the organ starts playing this lugubrious song, and we're all requested to take a seat so the service can start.

Great timing.

I take a detour from where I was heading and replace a spot at the end of the church. I'm not very fond of funerals. I don't think anyone is actually, but in any case, I prefer to stay out of the radar.

The service doesn't take long, and soon, we're gathering in a reception hall. Drinks are being served and there's this huge table with all sorts of food, but I'm not in the mood for alcohol or food, for that matter. I wish I could go home, but I don't want to be disrespectful.

My eyes check my surroundings, looking for that one particular person I so desperately want to talk to. And when I spot her, heading toward the exit door, I simply follow.

Before I can get close to the door though, someone walks in my way, halting me in my steps.

It's another bleach blonde head, but not the one I am looking for. It's her older version.

"Nicky," I say, pursing my lips and pretending I wasn't annoyed to be interrupted. Again. "I'm really sorry for your loss."

The woman smiles at me briefly. "Thank you. And thank you so much for this beautiful service, Tony," she replies. "It means a lot to me and Chloe."

I nod. "Of course. It was the least I could do."

"You know, we lived a very good life in Miami after Carlo retired," Nicky carries on, and I glance over to the door and realize I've lost Chloe. I take a deep breath, certain that I will have the opportunity to talk to her before I leave. "He gave us all an extravagant life, but I must confess I'm happy to finally be home. I never wanted to move in the first place." She chuckles, lowering her voice as if she's telling me a secret.

My brows crease in confusion. What does she mean? Is she implying she moved back to the city for good?

"You're staying in New York?" I finally ask, trying not to show my surprise through my voice or expression.

"Yes. Carlo and I never sold our old house. This was actually something I wanted to discuss with you, in a more...proper circumstance, but I think any moment will do," she tells me, gripping my arm so I give her all my attention.

"What is it?" I press.

Nicky clears her throat, her eyes filled with determination. "Would you allow Chloe and I back into the circles of wives? We can help out with the families of the Saints, or whatever you need."

"Of course, Nicky. What made you think I would be against that? The Saints will always take care of their own, so you have nothing to worry about," I reassure her.

She widens her smile at me, and even though I've known Nicky for being this self-assured, confident, and empowered woman, I can tell she looks relieved that I gave her my word.

"Thank you, Tony. You have no idea how much this means to all of us. It will be great for Ellie too, to grow up in a safe environment."

"Who is Ellie?" I counter bluntly.

"Ah, she's Chloe's daughter." She dismisses it with a wave of her hands, as if she didn't just drop an enormous bomb on me.

I am at a loss for words, unable to form a coherent sentence. Before she can give me more information, Val calls her, and she excuses herself, apparently unaware of how stricken and confused I am. Chloe has a daughter? Since when?

Does that mean she's also married?

I look at the door I saw her walking through a few minutes ago, and debate with myself if I should follow her and sort this out.

But maybe I shouldn't. She is better off without me. What good would it do if I followed her? What if she does tell me she is married? So what?

Nothing will change, and there's a reason why we didn't contact each other back then after we slept together.

It is better this way. Or at least, that's what I'm trying to convince myself.

So, in the end, I give up going after her, making a sharp turn and returning to the reception.