Chapter 6 Damion

DAMION

The four months until November flew by-an endless row of sleepless nights, teary tantrums, and hard workdays.

On the morning of my bachelor night, I squatted in front of Gabriele. He was staring down at the iPad, watching a series he liked. His hair was tousled in the front and knotted in the back, but he refused to let Reniella comb it. I hadn't had the patience to hold him while she did it. We'd have to buzz it short once the wedding was over. "Gabriele, I need to talk to you."

He didn't look up. I reached for the iPad, but he twisted around. "Give it to me."

His small shoulders rounded in. It was his only reaction. I grabbed the device and pulled it away. "Soon someone will move in with us. She'll be your new mom. She'll take care of you and Amara." Gabriele's face scrunched up, and he threw himself at me, pummeling my legs with his little fists.

"That's enough," I thundered, grabbing his arms.

My anger disappeared seeing tears running down his face. "Gabriele."

I tried to hug him to my chest, but he squirmed away. Eventually, I released him. In the days after Camila's death, Gabriele had sought my closeness; now he was back to ignoring me. I wasn't sure what Camila had told him before her death, but it was clear that it made Gabriele resent me.

I put the iPad down in front of him then straightened. Without another word, I left and went upstairs to Amara's room. The nanny hurried out. In a few days, I'd finally be able to get rid of the nannies, and Alejandra would take care of Amara. I bent over the crib. Amara stared up at me and smiled a toothless grin. I gently slipped my palms under her tiny body and lifted her into my arms. Cradling her against my chest, I stroked her dark blond head. Both Gabriele and she had inherited their mother's hair color and eyes. Pressing a kiss to Amara's forehead, I remembered the first time I did it two days after she was born. Camila had refused to have me present while she gave birth to our daughter and only allowed me near her on the second day. Anger resurfaced as it always did when I remembered the past. Amara babbled, and I kissed her forehead again. She cried when someone other than my sisters, mother, or I held her. I could only hope she'd quickly grow used to Alejandra's presence.

I put her back down even though her cries tore at my heart. I needed to get ready for a meeting with Phoenix and then my bachelor night after.

An hour before the official start of my bachelor night, which Logan had organized for me, I met with Phoenix in my office. He and his wife Caroline had arrived a day early so he could see how business was going in Philadelphia. He wouldn't find reason to worry. I'd forgone sleep to make sure everything worked smoothly in my city. Phoenix and I settled on the armchairs in my office. I was surprised he'd agreed to come along to my stag party. Since his marriage to Caroline, he'd pulled back a bit.

"My aunt went all out with the wedding planning," Phoenix said as he lounged in the armchair. "She thought of everything from doves and ice sculptures to silk bed linen."

White silk bed linen. Linen I was supposed to stain with my young wife's blood on our wedding night.

I took a sip from my scotch then lowered it. "There won't be a presentation of the sheets because

I won't be sleeping with Alejandra."

Phoenix lowered his glass slowly, his gray eyes narrowing. He knew it wasn't because of Camila, even if I hadn't been with another woman since her death. "It's tradition. It has been for centuries."

"I know and I honor our traditions, but there won't be a presentation of sheets this time." Those words could very well mean my downfall. It wasn't my choice to ignore our traditions. Only Phoenix could make that decision, and it was clear he wouldn't. I'd considered sleeping with Alejandra. She was pretty, but I couldn't get the image of her innocent, wide eyes out of my head or how young she'd looked in her ridiculous clothes without a touch of makeup. The women of my past had been my age -grown women that could take what I gave.

"With your first marriage, you had no trouble following our tradition. It's not something you can follow as you see fit," Phoenix said sharply.

"The last time I married, the woman was close to me in age. I'm almost fourteen years older than my future wife. She called me 'sir' the first time she saw me. She's a girl." "She is of age, Damion. Today is her birthday."

I nodded. "You know I do what you ask me to do. You know I rule over Philadelphia without mercy as you expect me to do, but even I have certain lines I'm not willing to cross, and I won't force myself on a girl."

"She's of age and nobody says you have to use force," Phoenix repeated and I lost my shit.

I crashed the glass down on the table. "That she is, but I'd still feel like I was manhandling her. You can't honestly believe she will come willingly into my bed. Perhaps she will submit because she knows it's her only option, but that's not willing. I have a daughter, Phoenix, and I wouldn't want her to be with a man thirteen years her senior."

Phoenix regarded me for a long time, maybe considering putting a bullet in my head. He didn't tolerate defiance. "You will present sheets after your wedding night, Damion." I opened my mouth to

refuse him again. "No discussion. How you create bloody sheets is up to you."

I sat back, wary. "What is it you are suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting anything," Phoenix said. "I'm only telling you that I want to see bloody sheets, and I and everyone else will take them as proof of your wife's honor and your ruthlessness as is expected."

Maybe I was wrong, but I was fairly certain Phoenix was suggesting I fake the bloody sheets. I took another sip of my scotch, wondering if Phoenix had experience faking blood stains. I had been at the presentation of the sheets after his wedding night with Caroline, but even as I tried, I couldn't imagine Phoenix sparing anyone. I had seen him ripping out a man's tongue for disrespecting Caroline and had been there when he'd crushed his uncle's throat.

Maybe he was testing me. Maybe he was suggesting something like that so he could see if I was too weak to bed my wife. Growing up in our world, I'd learned to see the warning signs. If I failed a test given by my Capo, the end result was inevitable. I'd be removed from my position in the only acceptable way-by death. While I didn't fear dying, I loathed the idea of what that would mean for Gabriele and Amara. They'd cruelly lost their mother. If I, too, abandoned them, it would cause horrible trauma to my kids.

Showing any kind of weakness in this situation would be fatal. I would not risk my children's health nor my position as Underboss.

I took a sip. "I'll do what you ask of me, Phoenix, like my father and I have always done."

Phoenix inclined his head, but the tension lingered between us. I'd have to watch my back until I'd proven myself again.