__________________

HERE

♧

ALESSIA CARA ____________________



WORK HAD BEEN kicking my ass for the past month, and the fact that my entire family was on my case wasn't making it any easier. My mother, in particular, had taken it upon herself to remind me—every damn day—that I was turning forty in less than six months.

Celine and I had been... well, she didn't choke every time she called herself my wife anymore, so that was progress. We kissed regularly, and apart from a few teasing touches through our clothes, nothing had happened—unfortunately. She had been getting more involved with business, despite my constant insistence that she stay out of it. Not that she ever listened.

And my mother, ever the strategist, had been making Albert change Celine's diet to foods meant to boost fertility.

Like I wouldn't notice. Like I didn't see the extra portions of salmon, the sneaky addition of maca powder in her smoothies, or the fact that Albert had been extra smug about it all.

I should have been pissed. Instead, I was watching her more. Paying attention to her in a way that was starting to feel dangerous.

By the time I finally made it home, exhaustion was weighing heavy on my shoulders. The drive had been quiet, the streets nearly empty, the city bathed in that eerie stillness only found at two in the morning.

The house was dimly lit, the soft glow of a hallway light casting shadows along the walls. I rolled my neck, feeling the stiffness settle in as I shrugged off my jacket and loosened the first few buttons of my shirt.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar when I got there, and as I pushed it open, I found her curled up on the bed, bonnet on, her breathing slow and deep.

I leaned against the doorway, taking a moment.

She looked small like this. Not that she was—Celine was a force, a hurricane, a woman who could bring men to their knees with just a look. But right now, wrapped up in silk sheets, her body relaxed in sleep, she looked... soft.

I exhaled and stepped inside.

She stirred as I approached, blinking up at me sleepily.

"Antonio?" Her voice was groggy, thick with sleep.

"Go back to sleep, princesa."

She stretched lazily, making a small sound that shot straight to my gut. "You just got home?"

"Yeah." I sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a few stray braids away from her face.

"Did you eat?" she murmured.

I huffed a quiet laugh. She was the one half-asleep, and yet she was asking if I had eaten.

"I'm fine," I said. "Go to sleep."

She hummed, eyes fluttering shut again, and I thought she was out until she cracked one eye open.

"Albert gave me melatonin again," she mumbled.

A deep chuckle rumbled in my chest. Of course he did.

"How many?"

She was silent for a moment, then whispered, "Four."

I smirked. "That bastard."

She hummed in agreement, already drifting again.

I should've let her sleep. Should've left it alone. But instead, I reached out, tracing a hand down her arm, over the curve of her waist. She sighed at the touch, shifting closer.

"Antonio..."

Something tight coiled in my chest.

I slipped into bed beside her, pulling her against me. Her body fit perfectly against mine, warm and soft, her breath fanning against my skin.

"Sleep, Celine," I murmured.

She melted into me completely, her body molding against mine as if she had been made to fit there.

And as much as I hated to admit it—maybe she had been.

I was up at 7 AM, Celine still melted against my chest. She was soft and warm, her slow breaths tickling my skin as she clung to me in her sleep. I was careful as I shifted, trying to slip out from under her without waking her, but the second I moved, she let out a small whine, her grip tightening.

"Stay," she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

I exhaled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I can't, princesa. I've got work."

She let out a tired groan. "Work can wait."

I smirked. "You saying that? After you spent all night packing up shipments?"

She groaned louder but finally let me go, rolling onto her stomach. "Fine. Go be a boring old man."

I kissed the back of her shoulder before getting up. By the time I was dressed, she was scrolling on her phone, still half-asleep—until she shot up with a scream.

I immediately reached for my gun, turning back to her. "Qué pasó?"

"My dad wants us to come over. For dinner." She kicked the covers off, glaring at her screen like it had personally offended her.

I relaxed, shoving the gun back into the drawer. "You're not gonna cry, are you?"

Celine shot me a glare. "Don't start."

I smirked. "Afraid of your daddy, princesa?"

She scoffed but didn't answer.

Because we both knew the truth.

Celine had always been a daddy's girl. And her father wasn't just any father.

Vincenzo Luciano Moretti was La Stidda. One of the highest-ranking men in the organization, feared across Italy and beyond. La Stidda wasn't like Cosa Nostra—it wasn't built on hierarchy and rigid traditions. It was formed by men who refused to take orders, men who wanted control over everything without answering to a higher power. They were just as ruthless, just as organized, but unpredictable.

And Vincenzo? He was one of the most dangerous of them all.

But he hadn't built that reputation alone.

Corrine Luciano was just as feared. A Frenchwoman from a powerful crime family in Marseille, she had been raised in blood and business, marrying Vincenzo not for politics but for power. Together, they had created something lethal—a family that didn't just survive in the mafia but thrived in it.

Their children had inherited every bit of that madness.

Cassian was brutal—reckless in a way that made people hesitate before crossing him. He didn't fight with strategy. He fought with violence, like pain meant nothing to him.

Charlotte? She was the quiet one, the one people underestimated. Soft-spoken, calculating, patient. She wasn't the type to throw the first punch. She was the type to wait until you walked into a trap you didn't even know was there.

And Celine?

Celine had shot me within five minutes of meeting me.

She didn't hesitate. She didn't take orders. She acted. And she enjoyed it.

So no, she wasn't afraid of her father.

It was her mother.

"Your mom's the real reason you don't wanna go."

She groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "She's just gonna give me a whole speech about how I'm not pregnant yet."

I ran a hand down her thigh, smirking. "We could fix that right now, cariño."

She smacked my chest, groaning louder. "Antonio, shut up."

I chuckled, leaning in, my lips brushing against her neck. "Just saying, papi would be a good look on me."

"Don't start." But she tilted her head, letting me kiss lower.

"You doubt me?" I murmured, my fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt.

She hummed, her nails dragging lightly down my chest. "I think you're just saying that to shut me up."

I smirked against her skin. "Is it working?"

She exhaled, her grip tightening on me. "Maybe."

I let my lips trail lower. "Then let me keep trying."

Celine's body molded into mine the second I pulled her close, her warmth pressing against me as my hands gripped her ass. Soft, full, made to be touched. I kneaded the flesh, enjoying the little sigh she let out as I kissed down her neck, my lips dragging slowly over her skin.

"Mmm... Antonio," she breathed, her fingers threading into my hair, nails scratching lightly against my scalp.

I hummed against her throat, letting my tongue flick against her pulse point before I sucked just hard enough to make her shiver. "You like that, princesa?"

"You know I do," she whispered, arching into me.

I slid one hand up her back, the other staying firm on her ass as I pulled her flush against me. My lips traveled down, tracing the curve of her shoulder before I found her lips again, capturing her in a slow, deep kiss.

She melted into me completely, her hands gripping my jaw, keeping me there like she needed this just as much as I did. Her lips were soft, warm, tasting like whatever gloss she had put on earlier, and I swallowed the little sound she made when I bit down gently on her bottom lip.

Then my phone rang.

I ignored it.

"Antonio," she mumbled between kisses, barely able to get my name out as I pulled her tighter against me. "Your phone..."

I groaned but didn't let go, moving to kiss just beneath her ear instead. "It can wait."

It didn't stop ringing.

"Antonio," she whined, swatting at my chest. "Go. To. Work."

I sighed, resting my forehead against hers for a second before finally pulling away. "I hate everyone."

She smirked, smoothing her hands over my shirt. "I know, baby."

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand, answering it with pure irritation in my voice. "What."

Celine bit her lip, obviously amused as she sat back against the pillows, stretching her arms above her head.

I shook my head at her, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before standing up. "I'll be home early tonight."

"You better be," she said, eyes dark and teasing. "Or I'll start without you."

I clenched my jaw, adjusting my tie before heading out the door.

I left the house still feeling the heat of her against me, her words playing on a loop in my mind.

"Or I'll start without you."

Celine knew exactly what she was doing. Knew exactly how to drive me insane before I even stepped out the damn door.

By the time I got to my car, I was already regretting leaving. Work was the last thing I wanted to deal with, but I couldn't exactly ignore it. Not unless I wanted a bigger mess to clean up later.

I answered a few calls on the way, handling business as usual. Nothing I couldn't deal with, just the same bullshit in different packaging. By the time I pulled into the office, my mood was soured completely.

Meetings. Numbers. Managing people who barely deserved a job, let alone my patience.

By noon, I was already thinking about leaving early.

By two, I had decided I was done.

I needed to be home.

And not because of dinner with Celine's family.

I stepped into my office, loosening my tie, about to call it a day when my phone buzzed. A message from Celine.

📲: You better be on your way home, papi.

I smirked, shaking my head.

💬: I'm finishing up now, princesa.

📲: Good. You've got a dinner to attend. Don't be late.

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair.

Dinner. Right.

Meeting Vincenzo again wasn't what worried me. I could handle him.

It was Corrine.

Celine's mother had the kind of cold, calculating energy that never needed to be loud. The kind that made you feel like you were being dissected with every look. And worse—she had expectations.

Expectations that, as of right now, weren't being met.

I could already hear her voice, smooth and sharp like a blade. No pregnancy yet? What exactly are you two waiting for?

Celine wasn't upset about seeing her father. She was a daddy's girl through and through, and Vincenzo made sure his youngest daughter always came first. That was the easy part.

Corrine, though...

Yeah. I needed to be prepared.

With one last look at my phone, I stood up and grabbed my jacket.

Time to go home.

When I walked into the house after work, I was greeted by the usual chaos. The bedroom was a mess—clothes strewn all over the place, shoes in random corners, and half-empty bottles of perfume on the dresser. The bathroom wasn't any better: steam still rising from the shower, towels thrown over the towel rack, and the scent of Celine's favorite body wash hanging thick in the air.

But none of this phased me anymore. I was used to it. My wife had a way of turning even the simplest of tasks into a whirlwind.

I heard the sound of laughter coming from the bathroom, and I could only imagine the scene unfolding in there. Lottie and Summer were usually the ones helping her get ready when things were last-minute like this, which happened often. Albert—being Albert—was probably lurking in the background, giving unsolicited advice on everything from Celine's hair to the way she applied her makeup.

Sure enough, as I stepped into the doorway of the bathroom, I found all three of them in action.

Summer was fluffing out Celine's curls, talking to her about something she had no doubt already told her ten times, while Lottie was holding up dresses for approval. Meanwhile, Albert was pacing in the corner, offering "helpful" suggestions that no one asked for.

"It's not supposed to look like that," Albert muttered under his breath, shaking his head as Celine scowled at him through the mirror.

"Oh, please, Albert. You don't know shit about makeup," Celine shot back, applying her eyeliner with precision.

"Maybe I know how to do it right and you don't," Albert quipped with a raised eyebrow.

"Right," she deadpanned. "You've never even touched makeup."

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. Despite the chaos, Celine seemed calm, her usual poised self when it came to getting ready, even if her team of helpers was a bit of a mess.

Lottie, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease, folding and unfolding dresses as she handed them over to Celine. "This one, maybe?" she asked, holding up a deep red dress.

"No, I'm thinking more black tonight," Celine replied, not even looking up.

I couldn't help but smile as I watched the scene play out. This—this chaotic, imperfect, beautiful mess—was what made my life feel like it had meaning. Even though it was maddening, I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I cleared my throat to grab their attention. "What's going on in here? You guys planning on taking over the whole damn house?"

Celine turned toward me with that mischievous grin of hers, her eyes twinkling. "I'm just getting ready for dinner with my family, Antonio. What else would I be doing?"

Albert turned and gave me an exaggerated look. "Oh, you know, nothing much. Just the usual—trying to make her presentable."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the help, Albert. I'll take it from here."

He didn't even flinch, just shot me a smirk before he turned back to his own business. Meanwhile, Summer gave me a sympathetic glance, as if to say, Good luck.

Celine finally finished with her makeup, letting out a satisfied sigh as she turned toward me, her hands resting on her hips. "Well, what do you think?"

I took a long, slow look at her, my gaze trailing from her face down to her dress and the heels she had finally settled on. "You look... stunning, as usual."

She smirked, pleased with the compliment but not about to let me off that easily. "Stunning, huh? Well, that's a good start. Now, help me zip up this damn dress."

I raised an eyebrow but didn't argue, walking over to her and carefully zipping up the back of her dress, feeling the heat from her body radiating through the fabric. As I did, I couldn't help but notice how every little movement of hers, every brush of her skin against mine, had a way of setting my pulse racing.

When I was done, I stepped back, letting her check herself in the mirror one last time. "Ready for this?" I asked, my voice low and tinged with something a little more than the usual casual tone.

She glanced at me through the reflection, her eyes catching mine. "You mean to face my family? I guess so. But the real question is... are you ready for them?" She raised an eyebrow.

I chuckled darkly, the weight of the evening already settling in. "I've been ready for this my entire life. I'll survive."

She gave me a sly smile, her hands settling on my chest. "You better, Antonio. Husband's are 4 more dollars on EBay when you're getting them a second time."

"As if you won't pay for it with my credit card." I leaned down, pressing my lips to her temple softly, before pulling away.

She winked, and just like that, we were off.

When we arrived, Corrine r stood front and center, speaking to a maid when we walked in. She barely glanced at me before her eyes landed on Celine. A smile graced her lips, but it dropped just as quickly.

"Celine. You're late."

Celine barely spared her a glance. "At least I'm here," she said, her tone flat, and I instinctively tightened my grip around her waist.

"Mia cara, finalmente sei qui." Luciano's deep voice cut through the room as he stepped forward, taking Celine's hands in his.

Celine's face lit up immediately. "Daddy," she grinned, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

A slow, amused voice interrupted the moment. "Oh, well, well. Is that Mrs. Genovese I see?"

Cassian.

Celine didn't even look at him. "Shut up."

"You wound me."

Charlotte, who had been quietly watching from her spot near the fireplace, sighed. "Cass, leave her alone."

Cassian ignored her, his attention turning to me. "And Antonio. You look like shit."

"Thanks," I deadpanned.

"Long day at work?" He smirked.

"Something like that."

Luciano ignored all of this, leading Celine further inside. "Come, sit. Your mother has been waiting."

Celine stiffened just slightly, her grip on my hand tightening before she let out a sigh. "Great. Can't wait."

Corrine was already seated at the dining table, a glass of wine in hand, watching us with a sharp, unreadable gaze. Her dark eyes flicked to me first before settling on Celine, scanning her like a mother who already knew she wouldn't be pleased with what she found.

"Celine," she greeted, voice smooth but firm.

"Mother," Celine replied just as smoothly, taking the seat Luciano pulled out for her. I sat beside her, resting an arm over the back of her chair, feeling the tension coil beneath her skin.

Cassian dropped into a seat across from us, grinning like the devil himself. Charlotte sat beside him, glancing between us all, her quiet presence somehow making the whole thing feel even more ominous.

Luciano sat at the head of the table, his presence commanding without effort. "Let's eat," he said, signaling to the staff to start bringing in the courses.

For a moment, everything was quiet. Silverware clinked against plates, glasses were refilled, and I took a slow sip of my wine, waiting for the inevitable.

And then—

"So, Celine." Corrine's voice cut through the calm. "How is married life?"

Celine didn't even look up from her plate. "It's fine."

"Fine," her mother repeated, unimpressed. "I would hope it's more than just fine. You are a Genovese now, after all."

I felt Celine tense beside me. I reached over, resting a hand on her thigh beneath the table, my thumb brushing slow circles against her skin. She exhaled sharply through her nose.

"Well, if you'd actually ask about me instead of my marriage, maybe you'd know," Celine said coolly, finally lifting her gaze to meet her mother's.

Corrine tilted her head. "You think I don't know you, ma fille?"

"You don't know me," Celine shot back. "Not really. And you never tried to."

A charged silence filled the space.

Luciano, who had been calmly cutting into his steak, finally spoke. "Celine," he warned lightly, but I could tell he wasn't entirely against the pushback.

Corrine took another sip of her wine before setting the glass down with a soft clink. "You're right," she admitted, making Celine blink in mild surprise. "I never tried to understand your recklessness because I always assumed it would pass. But it hasn't. Instead, you seem to have embraced it." Her gaze flickered to me. "And your husband enables it."

I smiled, slow and dangerous. "My wife doesn't need enabling."

Corrine's lips pressed together, clearly disapproving. "No, I suppose not."

Cassian snorted. "You suppose? Our little Celine has been a menace since birth."

Celine threw a piece of bread at him.

Luciano sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Enough. We are here to eat, not bicker."

Corrine hummed, but her focus never strayed from Celine. "I just assumed we would have something more to celebrate by now," she said, voice deceptively casual. "It has been months since the wedding."

There it was.

Celine went still. My grip on her thigh tightened.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Cassian muttered, shoving a bite of food in his mouth. "Are we really doing this now?"

"If not now, then when?" Corrine asked smoothly. "Celine, don't you want to give your father a grandchild?"

Celine scoffed, shoving her chair back and standing. "I came here to eat, not to be lectured about my uterus."

Corrine lifted a perfectly arched brow. "So sensitive."

Luciano sighed, rubbing his temple. "Corrine—"

"No, no, let her storm off," Corrine said, lifting her glass again. "She always does."

Celine clenched her jaw, and I could feel the rage simmering beneath her skin. I stood up beside her, placing a firm hand on the small of her back. "We're done here."

Luciano didn't protest. Cassian just smirked. Charlotte gave Celine a sympathetic look.

Corrine?

She just sipped her wine.

I grabbed Celine's hand, feeling her resistance before she gave me a look that said it all—she wasn't happy.

"Tesoro." I said, keeping my voice low but firm.

She huffed, clearly annoyed. "I'm not—"

"Tesoro."

She paused, eyes narrowing, before finally sitting back down with a sigh. I could feel the tension radiating off her, but I wasn't about to let her storm off and make everything worse.

Celine shot me a sideways glance, her lip curling slightly, but I didn't care. I kept my hand on her back, a gentle but firm reminder that I was still here, in control.

Luciano eyed us both but said nothing, his gaze flickering between his daughter and me. Corrine, on the other hand, didn't even look up.

"Fine," Celine muttered, her voice edged with frustration. "I'm sitting. Happy?"

I gave her a small, approving nod. "Very."

The tension in the room lingered, but for now, I'd put out the fire. That was enough.

___________________________________

erm I know this chapter was ass don't bite me 🙏🏾 lowkey was gonna expand and make it longer but the juices had just stopped flowing for real but notice i gave y'all a scene of them making out ?? nyeahhhhhh i though sooo !!

anyways how was chapter?? lmkk

Stay hydrated !!

- zio 🍸