A De Lucci Summer (Scorned Fate series prequel)
Ava
“I don’t know how you do it, Ava,” Carlotta said. “Four kids … I can barely manage two.”
We were at a family barbecue. It was summer, and the De Lucci family—yes, the entire mafia family and a few of their associates—was in attendance. The gathering was at Uncle Jackie’s house which had an expansive backyard complete with a pool. The men congregated at one end of the pool where Jackie’s son Michael “Mickey” De Lucci was grilling sausage and steaks for everyone.
“I was a babysitter to my nephews and niece.” I chuckled while we arranged the food on the table for the luncheon. “Training started early.” Our gazes shifted to where a majority of the kids were hanging out by the water. The older ones, including my two boys Matteo and Nico, ages eleven and ten, were playing soccer in the grassy area. Dominic—sixteen, Paulie and Carlotta’s son, was coaching his cousins. My two youngest Renz and Bianca who were seven and five were with their Aunt Kelly. They were sitting around the pool, dangling their feet in the water while their cousin Lucia, Carlotta’s eight-year-old daughter, commandeered the giant inflatable flamingo raft.
“Besides, I have Kelly for babysitting.”
“How old is she now?” Carlotta asked.
I stood back and assessed the arrangement on the table before I arched a brow her way. “Shame on you, Carlotta. She’s your sister.”
She puffed an annoyed breath. “Not really, and I don’t mean it in a bad way. My father didn’t adopt her when he married Sofia.”
“She’s eighteen. She’s in her first year of New York Film Academy. Maybe ask her about her studies, hmm?”
Paulie’s wife pinched her lips together before relaxing them and saying, “All right.”
It took me months, even years, before I even began to understand Carlotta. Partly because I had already formed preconceived notions about her. Carlotta couldn’t shake off her entitlement as the once favored daughter of the Chicago boss. She had flashes of selfishness and self-centeredness, not being able to see beyond what suited or benefited her, but she wasn’t innately evil, just spoiled. To get along with her, I had to be honest and call her on her shit. I saw how she adored Paulie and their children. That was all that mattered to me and Cesar. Besides, she was a great interior designer and fashion advisor. Between her and my sister-in-law Mads, I could always depend on their expertise to comport myself in front of Cesar’s associates, especially of the underworld variety.
My gaze drifted to where Cesar was standing. The truth was, my sexy Italian didn’t give a damn how I looked or behaved in front of his associates, and that was more about my desire to show him that I also cared about his concerns outside our family. He certainly gave me enough help with the expansion of the Eamonn’s brand. We now had a second pub in New Jersey and was planning a third one in Philadelphia. “Look at you. Still can’t take your eyes off Cesar,” Carlotta teased.
A silly smile pulled at my lips, and I turned the same teasing expression on her. “Don’t think I can’t see the stars in your eyes when Paulie is wearing a tux.”
“We’re gone for our De Lucci men, aren’t we?” she sighed.
“Are you girls ogling your husbands again?” The dry voice came from Wilma Rossi.
Wilma handed me a casserole. Even without looking, I knew it was her seafood manicotti. It was the same dish she’d brought for the past twelve years since I’d been coming to these gatherings.
I tried not to groan. Of all the mafiosi wives, I couldn’t stand her. She was married to Sofia’s brother, Carmelo. Their eldest son was an asshole, while the younger one was antisocial as hell. Not surprising since I’d probably have issues too if I had Wilma and Carmelo as parents. I’d heard Cesar and Paulie talk enough about those two, and it was never anything good.
“It seems Mickey is going to be the De Lucci boss in a few years,” Wilma said, checking her fingernails while leaning a hip against the table. “Your father-in-law must be disappointed.” She raised catty eyes at me and Carlotta.
The men held an offsite meeting that morning for a formal declaration that Michael “Mickey” De Lucci would be the underboss of the family.
“On the contrary,” I cut in. I usually let Carlotta handle mafiosi wives when they were looking for trouble. Given what I knew about my husband being the pest controller who kept the balance in organized crime, not only in New York but with his network of contacts across the country and the world, it was best if I kept my mouth shut. I had the McGrath temper but sometimes, a wife had to step up, especially with a direct attack. I glanced over to where Cesar was standing beside his dad and Paulie. “Cesar is ecstatic for Michael and Jackie. They deserve this.”
“Of course,” Wilma said in false sympathy. “But, I’m sure it must be difficult. After all it should’ve been Lorenzo—”
Would the De Luccis forgive me if I tossed Wilma into the pool?
“Wilma, do us a favor,” I said tightly. “Keep your venomous opinions to yourself.”
“Excuse me?”
“Lorenzo’s been gone for twenty years. Why do you make it sound like Riccardo is a sad old man? He’s not. He’s happy his sons are successful in business. He’s thrilled to spend time with his grandchildren. Besides, Carlotta and I are pleased our husbands don’t have to deal with all these made men politics and rules.”
Wilma arched a brow. “It’s prestigious to be the wife of a mafia Don—”
I shrugged. “Not my thing, but if Cesar had chosen to be a made man, it wouldn’t change what I feel for him, because that title means nothing to me.” I inched my face closer to hers. “Don’t ruin this day for Michael, for Jackie, and the rest of the De Luccis, capisce?” The last word was an expression I picked up from my husband. I frequently used it on my children to drive home a point, but apparently, I couldn’t help using it on misbehaving mafia wives too.
Wilma’s eyes widened and then narrowed. I heard Carlotta snicker behind me. It was known among the New York Five families how Cesar doted on me and the children. My husband’s murky reputation made the most arrogant mafia boss wary of him. I rarely used my position as his wife to put people in their place. I didn’t need Wilma’s leverage as a Don’s wife. Being married to Cesar gave me enough power.
No one dared to piss me off directly and earn the wrath of my husband.
And Wilma knew it.
A rousing scream from the pool drew everyone’s attention.
Asshole Rossi son number one, Francesco, was harassing Kelly. Even from this distance I could tell my niece was frustrated or about to cry. Her porcelain skin was tomato red.
“Maybe you should teach your son how to treat his cousin.”
“She’s a nobody,” Wilma retorted.
“Rossi blood runs in her veins,” Carlotta spat and got into her face just as I hurried off to support Kelly. My poor niece. I probably shouldn’t have brought her here. Mads was going to kill me if she found out Francesco had harassed her. It wasn’t the first time.
My stomach dropped when my youngest son confronted Francesco. “Leave my Aunt alone.”
Francesco laughed and pushed Renz into the pool.
“Oh, hell no!” I growled. Renz swam like a fish and immediately surfaced. But I was outraged.
So was my husband.
“Motherfucker!” Cesar thundered. He was at the opposite end from where the kids were and immediately started their way when Carmelo pulled him back while laughing as if the whole thing was a joke.
They were a family of assholes.
I didn’t have time to react when Bianca stepped in front of Francesco. Oh, no, no, she couldn’t swim well.
“Cesar,” I cried.
My five-year-old daughter punched Francesco in the crotch. The Rossi boy dropped to his knees but not before he pushed Bianca into the pool too.
I made a running dive into the water.
When I opened my eyes, it was to see a mayhem of thrashing limbs underwater. Screams were muffled from above. Panicked, I couldn’t find Bianca.
I surfaced and was treading water. For a few seconds my heart pushed against my throat until finally my lungs expunged a breath of relief.
Cesar was already behind someone who’d gotten to Bianca first. That person was already helping my daughter out of the pool.
Alessandro—Sandro, the younger Rossi boy who I thought felt contempt for everyone, was thrusting Bianca into Kelly’s waiting arms. Then the kid got out and rushed toward his brother and roared at him with the most emotion I’d ever seen or heard come from him. Much to my surprise—and everyone else’s—he slugged Francesco in the nose.
Cartilage broke.
I heard a pop.
Blood spurted everywhere.
“Did he just break Frankie’s nose?” I couldn’t keep down the burst of incredulous laughter coming from me while I swam to Cesar’s side.
He glanced at me with an expression that mirrored my own. “Thank fuck. Otherwise I would have.”
“How dare you hit your brother?” Carmelo shouted at his youngest son, whipping him around and collaring Sandro’s neck with his fingers.
“He was being an asshole, Papa,” Sandro choked but his eyes remained mutinous.
Cesar hauled ass from the pool and pulled me out before getting in between father and son. I hurried over to where a sniffling Bianca was seated on a lounge with Kelly. Everyone’s attention was riveted on the upcoming confrontation. My two oldest sons had abandoned their soccer game and rushed over to see what was happening.
“Let him go,” Cesar said, voice deathly calm.
“This is none of your business, De Lucci.”
“Frankie was being an asshole,” Cesar enunciated. “If Sandro didn’t break his nose, I probably would have.”
“He’s just a boy.”
“He’s what? Seventeen?” My husband’s fists clenched at his sides. He was trying his best not to cause a bigger scene. “He’s old enough to know better. He insulted my niece. He put his hands on my son and daughter. You think I’m gonna to let that go?”
“Are you threatening me, Cesar?”
“Is that even a question here?” my husband replied evenly.
Everyone held their breaths as the two men glared at each other.
Carmelo was being an idiot but it was a matter of his pride at that point. Cesar was too enraged to back down and use diplomacy. My husband was feral when he was protecting us.
“Cesar is right,” Jackie broke into the altercation. This was his house after all, and he could throw everyone out. “We protect family. Your son disrespected mine by pulling that shit here. This is an important occasion for Mickey. Respect, Carmelo. Respect.”
“Mommy, you’re squeezing me,” Bianca complained. I loosened my grip on my daughter not realizing I’d tensed up. Damn these mafia gatherings. Always with the drama. Jackie diffused the situation by making this about the family and the occasion. Carmelo couldn’t argue with that and he knew it.
“I think we better leave,” Carmelo declared, making one last attempt to salvage his pride. He shoved his younger son forward as he checked on Frankie who was mumbling threats against his brother.
Sandro stopped in front of us. “You okay, Bianca?”
“‘M okay,” my daughter said. “Are you okay?
The boy smiled faintly and shrugged. “I’ll be okay.”
“Thanks, Sandro,” I told the boy.
But he simply shrugged again and walked away.
“Whew, that was quite exciting,” Carlotta exclaimed. She turned to Kelly. “How about you help me finish up preparations?”
Cesar approached and crouched in front of Bianca and me. “You’re very brave not to cry, baby girl.”
“You told me not to let boys make me cry even if they’re being jerks.”
“That’s right.”
“I tried very hard, Daddy, but I cried a little.”
“That’s okay, baby.”
Cesar held out his arms, and Bianca immediately fell into them. He stood and walked over to Renz who was reporting back to his brothers about what happened. He dragged his fingers through our son’s wet hair. “You did a brave thing standing up for your aunt.”
“That’s what you taught us, Dad. Protect our family, especially the girls.”
My heart squeezed a little, but I worried for Sandro who might take the brunt of his family’s displeasure for doing the right thing.
“Oh my God.” Rowena—Mickey’s wife, ran up to us. “I can’t believe this happened! Do you need to change out of those clothes? Maybe time to get into your swimsuits and toss your clothes into the dryer?” The kids were already in their swimwear, while Cesar and I were soaking in our clothes.
Cesar shot me a heated look. “That might not be a bad idea.”
Cesar
“I want to learn boxing, Dad.” Matteo looked up from the monopoly board, a game he was playing with his brothers and Ava. Meanwhile Bianca was tucked by my side on the couch.
It was the evening following the incident at the pool. My sons were up in arms about what happened, outraged that the Rossi boy laid a hand on our family. The parents were the problem. It always went back to the parents. We De Luccis were born into a life of privilege, but Pop and Mamma always taught us the responsibility that came with power and money.
“I thought you loved soccer?” I took a nip of my scotch.
Matteo grinned. “Actually, I want to shift to football.”
“He just wants to get with the chicks,” Nico chortled.
Matteo threw the dice at his brother. “Fuck off.”
“Hey—” Ava said. “What did I say about swearing?”
“Aunt Kelly said they have swear jar,” Renz piped up.
“It doesn’t work if Matteo doesn’t have money to put in it,” I said dryly. My oldest son spent his allowance as fast as he received it. “Just don’t swear at school.”
“That would help,” Ava muttered.
“I haven’t called anyone in school an asshole again,” Bianca announced proudly.
“That’s good, baby girl,” I chuckled. I was amused when we were called to Bianca’s school because she had called one of her classmates an asshole. Ava was mortified. I told my wife with the boys getting older and hanging around the mafia, it was a losing battle and was not worth getting heartburn or losing sleep over.
“Well, Dad?” Matteo asked. “Boxing? Can I come to the gym with you and Uncle Robbie or Charles?”
“He’s too young to spar,” Ava said.
We exchanged parenting glances, but her look said I had the final say on this matter. It was a give and take between us when it came to making decisions about the kids. “Grades. You maintain your grades next school year, then I might consider taking you with me. But your mom is right. No sparring until you’re fourteen, but we can practice your footwork.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I’m bankrupt,” Ava declared and gave up all her fake money to Nico who seemed to be the financial whiz at Monopoly beating everyone every single time. “All right, who wants milk and cookies?”
Bianca pushed away from me. “Meee!”
I sighed and watched my youngest chase after her mother. It was going to be a long night.
It was around two in the morning when I finally had the chance to make love to Ava.
“You taste so sweet,” I kissed her one more time before rolling on my back and dragging her into my arms.
“It’s the cookies,” she murmured. “They’re probably running in my blood right now.”
“Probably not a good idea to give the kids cookies so late at night, hmm?”
“I didn’t want the day to end.”
“What? You didn’t want to spend alone time with your husband?”
“You know I do.” Ava pinched my side and nuzzled the side of my neck. “Carlotta asked me if we want another one.”
I smiled faintly. “I’m presuming you mean another kid. I’m thinking we’re going to have our hands full with Matteo and Bianca.”
Renz and Nico seemed to be the less temperamental ones. But who knew when they were this young and before the hormones kicked in?
“I noticed Sandro Rossi—” she started.
“Not another word,” I grumbled.
“You noticed it too?”
“How he’s short with everyone except Bianca?”
“Yes. Maybe he yearns for a younger sister to dote on.”
“Maybe.”
“He certainly sees how protective our boys are with their sister, and he wants that.” Ava sighed. “I hope no one would see that as an opportunity for matchmaking and have them betrothed before they understand what that means.”
Over my dead body would I have my daughter married to a Rossi.
“It’s a moot point. When Bianca is old enough, I’m sending her to the convent.”
Ava burst out laughing.
I was only partly kidding. My wife didn’t seem tired and climbed on top of me, stretching her length against mine. Most of the time, after a full day with the children, we fell right to sleep after a round of sex. Having four kids of varying ages would do that to you. They meant the world to me, but that didn’t mean I didn’t treasure these private moments when my wife and I were locked away from them and just being us.
Cesar and Ava.
She was the woman I adored, continued to adore, and after all these years, our love had rooted deeply into who we are. Having children only strengthened our bond. Parenting though, wasn’t easy, especially when our kids had inherited our strong-willed temperaments.
I did have one anxiety.
Failing as a father, which would mean failing as a husband, but I had no intention of failing at either.
Without Ava and the kids, I was nothing. I had no meaning in this world. I existed solely for them.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“How much I love you. How lucky I am to have you as the mother of my children,” I said. “How thankful I am for every day you give me.”
Her eyes gleamed with the same love and adoration I’d seen in them on our wedding night.
“I still think of that night you stood outside the brownstone, staring up at my apartment,” she whispered.
“I’m glad you let me in.”
“Me too,” she laughed softly. “But our love was inevitable.” She kissed the spot on my chest over my heart.
“Come here, wife.” I dragged her up to me so we were face to face.
“I love you,” she murmured against my lips.
Then we kissed.
My life.
My world.
Mine.
Ready for the next generation of De Luccis?
Matteo in Scorned Heir
Nico in Scorned Love
Bianca and Sandro in Scorned Obsession (Available February 18, 2025)