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AMERICAN BOY

♧

ESTELLE , KANYE

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I GOT UP at the fucking ass crack of dawn. My family had come over on Friday, and while I'd somehow managed to spend most of my weekend tolerating them, it was now Monday. They were still here. I had no idea when they planned to leave, but I knew how long I could keep pretending I didn't know there was no fire Aurora started—not much longer.

My mother just wanted an excuse to come over and be nosy. A duchess with homes bigger than mine scattered across every corner of the earth, yet somehow my house was the most interesting place for her to invade.

Celine was still asleep on her side of the bed, her hair neatly tucked into her bonnet and—because of course—her gun tucked neatly under her pillow. Albert had warned her at least fifty times about how dangerous it was to keep a weapon there. Naturally, that only made her want to do it more.

I headed into the bathroom as silently as possible. I wasn't trying to test the limits of my trigger-happy wife first thing in the morning.

The bathroom was enormous—designed to fit the exaggerated standards of a mafia mansion. Marble floors gleamed under recessed lighting, a freestanding soaking tub sat near a wall of windows overlooking the estate, and a custom rainfall shower with a bench and multiple spray settings took up an entire corner. The double vanity had enough counter space to host a dinner party.

Or at least it used to.

Now, it felt like the walls had closed in. My side of the sink was no longer mine. It was buried under bottles of makeup, jars of skincare products, and brushes of every shape and size. The cupboards weren't mine either—now crammed with fake nails, wigs, and mysterious bottles labeled in cursive fonts that I couldn't even decipher.

All I could still claim as mine were my toothbrush and razor. Everything else had been swallowed by her takeover.

Even my shampoo hadn't been spared.

"If I hadn't gagged the first time I touched your soap, I'd have taken that, too," she'd told me when I'd asked about it.

"Why?"

"I don't wanna touch anything that's touched your balls," she'd replied with her signature deadpan delivery, making it impossible to argue with her logic.

I sighed at the memory, stepping into the shower. The water poured down like a waterfall, steam rising as I let the heat soak into my muscles.

By the time I finished and grabbed a towel, I could hear faint rustling from the bedroom. So much for being quiet.

I walked out to find Celine sitting up in bed, blinking at me with her usual morning scowl. Her bonnet was slightly askew, and her hand was still resting under her pillow—probably on her gun.

"Why are you up so damn early?" she mumbled, her voice raspy from sleep.

"Because someone has to keep this house running," I replied, drying off.

She yawned, stretching as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Must be nice to have a wife who keeps the sink running."

"Must be nice to have a husband who doesn't take shots at you before breakfast," I muttered under my breath, pulling on a shirt.

She smirked, pulling the gun from under her pillow and casually placing it on the nightstand. "Only because Albert said it's not polite."

"Do me a favor, Celine. Don't shoot anyone today. At least not in the house."

"No promises," she said sweetly, sauntering toward the bathroom.

I shook my head. And just like that, another day of chaos had officially begun.

I got dressed for work while Celine was in the bathroom. She wasn't doing anything in there—just sitting on the counter, scrolling through her phone and adding random items to her online shopping cart. I could hear her occasional laugh, which meant she was probably texting Val and Malakai.

Those two were like kids you couldn't let sit together in Kindergarten—chaotic, loud, and somehow always dragging Celine into their schemes.

I sighed, mentally preparing myself for the lectures I was bound to receive downstairs. My family, for better or worse, could never just let me leave for work without some sort of commentary.

The smell of croissants and barbagiuan wafted up from the kitchen as I descended the stairs. Albert had been making it for Celine for a while now. Something about it being her favorite from Monaco. He said it was to help her feel more comfortable in the house. I knew the truth, though—he'd been trying to stop her from shooting me in the kitchen.

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a croissant, not bothering to turn around when I heard someone enter behind me.

"Nico," I greeted, already knowing who it was.

"You're up early," he replied, leaning against the counter.

"I have work. What's your excuse?"

"I was meditating."

I turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow as I noticed a smudge on his face. "Oh, yeah? By the way, you've got some meditation right here." I pointed at the corner of my mouth to mimic where the chocolate was smudged on his.

He wiped it off with the back of his hand, completely unbothered. "This weed is medicated. It's why it's in brownie form."

"Ah, herbal meditation. Makes sense." I rolled my eyes, grabbing another croissant.

"Morning," Sophia said, her voice groggy as she wandered into the kitchen. Her hair was a mess, and she was still wearing the same sweatshirt she'd stolen from my closet years ago.

"Rough night?" I asked, nodding toward her.

"There's a whole other floor downstairs. I don't know how you live here, Antonio. It's like a dungeon." She yawned, stretching dramatically before making a beeline for the coffee pot.

"You live in Paris," I pointed out, watching as she dumped an ungodly amount of sugar into her mug.

"Yeah, but I don't live underground," she said, glaring at me over the rim of her cup.

"You're welcome to leave," I said dryly, biting into the croissant.

She snorted. "Nice try. I'm staying until Mama says we can go."

I didn't bother replying, instead turning to Nico, who was already reaching for another brownie.

"You know you're going to regret that later, right?"

He grinned. "I'll regret it when the meditation wears off. For now, I'm enjoying enlightenment."

Albert stepped into the kitchen, his usual crisp, monotone demeanor cutting through the chaos. "Breakfast is ready. Should I serve it here or in the dining room?"

"Dining room," Sophia said before I could answer. "Antonio's going to need to eat properly before dealing with his wife."

I glared at her. "Don't you have someone else's life to ruin?"

She smirked, taking a sip of her coffee. "Nope. Yours is my current project."

Celine's laughter echoed faintly from upstairs, and I sighed again. Another day in the circus.

I shifted my focus to my plate, determined not to let my mind wander as Nico leaned casually against the counter. He hadn't stopped grinning since Celine walked in, and I could feel my blood simmering.

Celine glanced at him with a raised brow. "What? You've never seen a robe before?"

"Not one that looks like that," Nico shot back, his grin widening.

Sophia smirked, nudging him with her elbow. "Don't be gross, Nico. She's married. You know, to your cousin."

"Just appreciating fine craftsmanship," Nico replied, throwing his hands up in mock innocence.

Celine rolled her eyes, her braids swaying as she shifted to grab some juice. "Y'all are acting like you've never seen legs before. Relax."

Lorelei, who had just entered with Matteo trailing behind her, let out a laugh. "Well, if I had a robe like that, I wouldn't blame Matteo for staring either."

Matteo's face reddened as he kissed Lorelei's cheek. "You don't need a robe for that."

Celine smirked at them and sipped her juice. Meanwhile, I was losing my patience with Nico's lingering gaze.

"Nico, don't you have somewhere else to be?" I asked sharply, my voice cutting through the chatter.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't argue, grabbing a croissant and heading toward the door with a mock salute. "Fine, fine. Keep your shirt on, or not," he muttered, shooting me one last smirk before leaving.

Sophia snorted as she sat down, cutting into the tension. "Honestly, Antonio, you look like you were about to tackle him."

"I should have," I muttered, my eyes flicking back to Celine. She was unbothered, nibbling on her croissant as if the entire exchange had gone unnoticed.

"You're awfully quiet this morning," Lorelei teased her, taking a seat next to Matteo.

Celine shrugged, glancing at me briefly before looking back at her plate. "Just saving my energy. Antonio's got work, and I've got plans."

My jaw tightened, but I kept quiet. Whatever those plans were, I had a feeling they'd give me a headache later.

"Work? Who's going to work?"

I sighed the moment I heard my Aunt Gabriella's voice ring out. I knew this was bound to happen. I turned slowly, clutching the croissant in my hand like it was my last tether to sanity.

"I am. Aunt Gabriella, I need to."

"No, you don't," she replied immediately, waving her hand dismissively as if I'd just suggested something absurd. "Your father does. And Lorenzo does."

"Lorenzo doesn't do sh—" I caught myself mid-sentence and cleared my throat. "I mean, anything at work. My father is getting old, Aunt Gabriella."

"That's the privilege of being the boss!" she snapped. "Getting old doesn't mean quitting. He should be relaxing, not you. And as for Lorenzo..." She trailed off, narrowing her eyes. "Well, you're right. He doesn't do anything, but that's beside the point!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, already feeling the headache forming. "Aunt Gabriella, I—"

"No. No excuses. You're staying. We are family, Antonio. Family sticks together. You cannot just leave us. What does this 'work' have that your office doesn't?"

Silence. I hesitated, knowing she was waiting for some kind of response.

"Aunt Gabriella—"

"Oh, thank you, my darling!" she said before I could finish. Her tone shifted so quickly it gave me whiplash. "I knew you were a sweet boy. Now go eat! You need your strength!" She shooed me toward the dining room, clapping her hands as though she'd just solved all my problems.

I turned back briefly, hoping to argue my case further, but she was already busy directing Albert to fetch her tea. With a resigned sigh, I made my way back into the dining room.

Celine was still seated, sipping her juice with a bemused smile on her lips. "Did you just get steamrolled by your aunt?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't start," I muttered, sitting down across from her.

Sophia snickered. "You really can't win against Aunt Gabriella, can you?"

"Not unless I want to wake up to her declaring a family meeting to 'correct' me," I replied bitterly, reaching for another croissant.

"She's not wrong, you know," Celine said, leaning back in her chair. "Family is important."

I shot her a look. "And yet you were ready to run out the door with a gun ten minutes ago. Is that your definition of sticking together?"

Celine shrugged, her lips twitching with amusement. "Depends. If you get shot again, I'll be right there to stick the bullet back in."

Albert, walking by with Aunt Gabriella's tea, coughed to stifle a laugh.

"Thank you, Albert. Very helpful," I muttered, as Celine and Sophia burst into laughter.

After breakfast, I resigned myself to the solace of my office. The desk was cluttered with paperwork—mostly logistics, tracking shipments, arranging meetings, and ensuring my men weren't reckless in their handling of deals. I'd barely made a dent in the workload when I heard a loud thud against the wall.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed back my chair and stood, irritation bubbling already. Following the sound, I found Val and Celine giggling near the wall, looking entirely too pleased with themselves.

"Oh, hey, Antonio," Val said with a wide grin, clearly trying to play it cool.

"Valencia," I greeted, my voice flat. "What are you two doing?"

Celine, crouched on the floor, smirked as she picked up the cage. Inside it, Venom—a black and gold scorpion—sat, completely unbothered. "We were trying to see if Venom's cage is really indestructible."

"You threw the cage at a wall?" I asked incredulously, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Did you dent it?"

Celine rolled her eyes as she placed the cage back on the counter. "Okay, relax your grandpa panties. It didn't dent. The cage is indestructible."

Before I could respond, Malakai and Nico emerged from the bar area with a bottle of vodka in hand.

"Shots," Malakai announced, already pouring.

"It's midday," I deadpanned. "And my family is here. You can't leave and go clubbing."

"Exactly. That's why we're getting drunk in the day, so we're sober at night," Val grinned as if this logic was irrefutable.

I pointed to Val and Celine. "I'm already aware of those two." Then I turned to Malakai, raising an eyebrow. "But aren't you supposed to be the smart one?"

"That's why I'm here—to watch how much alcohol they're intaking," Malakai said smoothly, lifting his glass.

"And I'll be there to supervise," Nico added with an infuriating grin.

"No," I said firmly, glancing between all of them.

"We'll be fine," Celine said, stepping out from behind the counter.

My words caught in my throat as my eyes fell on her outfit—or lack thereof. She was wearing a black, skintight crop top with long sleeves that clung to her curves. Her matching shorts were so short they might as well have been underwear, showing off her toned legs. Her long braids were pulled into a sleek ponytail, and she completed the outfit with thigh-high boots that only added to the effect.

"Are you out of your mind?" I blurted, gesturing to her outfit. "What the hell is that?"

Celine smirked, entirely unfazed by my reaction. "It's called fashion. You wouldn't get it."

"It's called indecent," I shot back, my voice rising. "Do you think this is appropriate with my family in the house?"

Val snickered from behind her glass. "Relax, Antonio. She looks hot."

"She looks like she's going to give my entire family a collective heart attack," I retorted, glaring at Celine.

"You're overreacting," she said breezily, grabbing the shot Malakai had poured for her. "Anyway, we're not doing anything you wouldn't do."

"You think I'd wear—" I stopped myself, realizing I was about to take the bait. "Celine, don't push me."

"Oh, darling," she cooed mockingly, lifting her glass. "I live to push you."

Malakai and Nico clinked their glasses together as if this was some kind of victory. Meanwhile, I was mentally debating whether or not to confiscate every bottle of alcohol—and maybe Venom too.

"You're not going. And definitely not to a club. Not now," I said, my tone final.

Celine's eyebrows shot up, her expression one of pure disbelief. "What?" she asked sharply. "You can't do that."

"Yes, I can," I said simply, nodding toward the four bodyguards stationed outside the door. "Or you can take a bodyguard. Your choice."

"Antonio—"

"Pick your choice, Celine," I said, cutting her off.

She crossed her arms, her jaw tight as she fumed. "Fine. I won't go clubbing," she bit out. "But if you don't want me to light this house on fire, you'll let me go somewhere." She scoffed, seemingly at her own words. "Let. Oh, what have you made of me?"

"You can go out, okay?" I relented, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Just... change."

Her response was immediate. She grabbed a bottle of vodka from the counter and hurled it at my head. I barely had time to duck before it shattered against the wall behind me.

I turned to glare at her, but she was already walking away, her braids swaying with every step.

"She doesn't miss," Malakai commented casually as he passed my office door, holding another glass of vodka. "You're lucky. She likes you."

I rolled my eyes and stepped back into my office, slamming the door behind me.

An hour later, my phone buzzed on the desk, breaking my concentration. I glanced at the screen and saw the name "Marco" flashing.

"What?" I answered curtly, already knowing this call wasn't going to improve my mood.

"Boss," Marco began, his tone carefully measured, as if trying to avoid setting me off. "There's been some unusual activity on your accounts in the last twenty minutes."

I sat up straighter in my chair. "How unusual?"

"About $85,000 unusual," he replied dryly. "All luxury purchases—Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Dior—seems like a shopping spree."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a heavy sigh. "You're telling me someone managed to drop 85 grand in under thirty minutes?"

"Twenty," he corrected with a chuckle he didn't bother to hide this time. "And judging by the locations, it's either a very confident thief or..." He trailed off knowingly.

"It's my wife," I finished for him, leaning back in my chair. "Let it go through."

"Are you sure? This is a pretty big—"

"Let. It. Go. Through," I repeated slowly, irritation creeping into my voice.

Marco laughed outright now. "Alright, alright. Not my business to meddle in marital disputes. Just thought I'd confirm before approving the charges. She really doesn't hold back, does she?"

"You'd think she was trying to buy Monaco itself," I muttered dryly.

"Got it," Marco said, still amused. "Anything else you need?"

"No," I snapped, hanging up without waiting for a response.

I tossed the phone onto my desk and exhaled deeply. My fingers tapped idly against the armrest as I stared out the window. This was classic Celine—pushing limits, testing patience, and letting the whole world know she wouldn't be caged.

A smirk tugged at my lips despite my frustration. $85,000 was a bold statement, but it wasn't just about the money. This was her way of sending me a message, loud and clear: Don't underestimate me. I leaned back in my chair, steepling my fingers. If this was her game, she'd chosen an opponent who wasn't easily broken. And if she thought this tantrum was going to shake me, she had another thing coming.

Celine stormed into the house like a hurricane, slamming doors with a force that made the walls tremble and tossing her shopping bags onto the floor with a dramatic flair.

"What did you do this time?" Sophia asked, barely glancing up from her phone as her thumbs flew over the screen.

"He told her he forbid her from going out," Nico said, leaning lazily against the wall, clearly amused by the chaos.

"And she tried to clean my bank account out," I said flatly, ignoring Nico's smirk as I followed her upstairs.

The bedroom door was slammed shut in my face before I could step inside. I knocked once before pushing it open anyway.

"Can't you fucking knock?" she spat, her voice sharp as she launched one of her heels at me. I ducked just in time, the heel grazing past my shoulder and thudding against the wall.

"Celine," I started, trying to keep my tone calm, though my patience was wearing thin.

I froze mid-sentence, my nostrils flaring as I caught the faint, unmistakable scent hanging in the air. "Were you getting high?"

"No," she snapped, but her voice was defensive, too quick.

I pushed the bathroom door open, and a thick cloud of smoke hit me like a wall. She stood there, leaning against the counter, her bloodshot eyes daring me to say something.

"Yes," I said evenly, my eyes locking on hers.

She crossed her arms, her posture defiant, but there was something else—something underneath the bravado. Frustration? Hurt? I couldn't tell, but it made me pause.

"You can't just come in here and start interrogating me," she muttered, avoiding my gaze as she brushed past me. I caught her wrist before she could move any further.

"Celine." My voice softened, though I still held her firmly. "What the hell is going on?"

"Let go of me." Her words were sharp, but she didn't pull away.

Instead, I stepped closer, backing her against the edge of the counter. "No," I said quietly, my thumb brushing over the inside of her wrist. "Not until you tell me what's wrong."

Her jaw tightened, and she glared at me like she wanted to push me away, but she didn't. My free hand came up, cupping her cheek. Her skin was warm, her eyes searching mine like she was trying to decide whether to let me in or push me further away.

"You push, and you push," I murmured, my fingers tracing the edge of her jaw. "But I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Don't act like you're some saint," she snapped, her voice trembling slightly. "You forbid me from going out, Antonio. Like I'm some child who needs a leash."

"You're not a child," I said, my voice firm. "But you do need to stop acting like the world revolves around you."

Her eyes narrowed, but the tension between us shifted. My grip on her wrist loosened, sliding down until our fingers brushed. I let my hand linger there, feeling the way her pulse quickened.

"You're infuriating," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"And you're impossible," I shot back, leaning in just enough to make her breath hitch. My hand slid from her cheek, tracing the curve of her neck before resting on her shoulder.

Her gaze dropped to my lips, but her expression was unreadable—half anger, half something else entirely. I leaned in further, my forehead brushing hers, waiting for her to make the next move.

Before either of us could say another word, the door cracked open slightly without so much as a knock.

"Antonio?" Nico's voice carried in as he peeked his head inside. The moment his eyes landed on us, his expression froze.

Celine was still pinned to the dresser, my body pressed firmly against hers. Her fingers were gripping my shirt, and I was holding her waist tightly, our faces barely an inch apart. The tension in the room was palpable, like a live wire humming between us.

"Oh," Nico said, his eyes darting between us. "Uh... I'll... just..." He backed out so fast that the door nearly slammed shut behind him.

Celine and I stood frozen for a moment, the spell between us not yet broken. Then she shoved at my chest, though the impact didn't move me.

"Great," she muttered, glaring at me. "Now your nosy cousin thinks we're..."

"Thinks we're what?" I asked, my voice low as I leaned closer, refusing to give her the space she was demanding.

"Don't start." Her words were sharp, but there was no mistaking the way her breathing quickened.

I tilted my head, my lips nearly brushing the shell of her ear. "I think he saw exactly what we wanted him to see."

Her hands clenched tighter into my shirt, and she scowled. "You're insufferable."

"And yet, here we are." I smirked, my grip on her waist tightening slightly before finally stepping back.

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wait he lowkey ate that upp !! don't call me cliche with the whole money account thing YALL it's what I wanted to do and write for such a longg time and I know y'all asked for more scenes with Celine snd the babies but I don't know how much longer Antonio's family can stay with them 😭 this chapter was so bad lol I'm so sorry

but what did yall think of that??

thank you for reading it means so much to me and don't forget to stay hydrated!!

- zio 🍸