His Mafia Prince
Chapter 232: I Have Questions

Chapter 232: I Have Questions

(SASHA)

I shift in the bed, expecting pain, but I find it bearable. I don’t like the heavy feeling in my head from the painkillers, though.

"Any advice for the other thorns in my side? It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone I could trust to ask."

Santino’s smile dies away.

"That’s not exactly true, though, Boss. Is it? You have plenty of advisors."

I stare at the knitted blanket stretched out over my legs and wonder why I feel like I’ve disappointed him. "I thought the same, Santino. And I really thought Fontana was the guy to replace you as Underboss."

He stays silent until I look over at him. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"What you’re thinking. That I’m wrong? That I fucked up?"

He gives a small, grim laugh. "You don’t need me to tell you that."

I twist my wedding ring around on my finger. I’m not used to feeling it without the Adonis ring over the top of it. It seems almost defenceless there without that big oval onyx overlapping it like armour. I’m not sure what to say about Luigi that won’t sound stupid now, after everything that’s happened.

Jesus. Tyler was right when he told me to pull my head out of my ass.

"Luigi is doing a decent job," Santino says. "Despite some pushback. At the Irish doesn’t seem to like it." I give a smirk at that.

"The Irish are nothing if not predictable."

"Your brother’s giving Luigi some grief as well. Noticed it myself back there. You’ll want to watch out for that, Boss."

I give a weary sigh. I love Marco dearly, but he does seem to stir up trouble."

Santino changes the subject. "Miles’s blossomed."

"He has. Of course, he’ll benefit even more given his position now." Santino looks down at his own hands then, one thumb massaging the other palm. He says nothing.

"You don’t want to come back."

It’s an observation more than a question, but I’m glad I’m not hooked up to any heart monitors. They’d give away how hard mine just dropped.

Santino looks up, his face troubled. "Boss—"

"Don’t. You don’t need to explain." I lie back in the bed, exhausted. "I made vows to this Family, and I’ll keep them. But if you need me—"

"No."

Of course I fucking need him. But I still remember what he told me when he left: that it was time for me to take full control of the Family, to prove my power to the world. He was right to leave me when he did, and coming back—especially now, when I am at my most vulnerable—will only weaken my position further, get our enemies talking about how I need to be shored up.

"Have you found the man you’re looking for yet? This magic man who can clear Matteo’s name?"

"We’re close. But no; not yet."

I wave my hand. "Then get back out there and do what you need to do. The work you’ve done for me out West has been invaluable, and there could be more to come. When the Irish fall, and things destabilize, I don’t need the rival families wondering if they can snatch a piece of the pie."

Santino says nothing. I can see him struggling, his own wishes versus his duty to the Family. My father had ground that commitment into his soul from the time he was a child. This visit back here has cost Santino dearly, though not, I think, in the way he expected. But you can’t step into the same stream twice. Santino has changed. So has the Family.

"I used to wonder why my father picked me in those last moments," I tell him, "And you’ve never once made me feel anything but supported, never made me feel like I was given a role that I was barely able to step in. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that."

"You don’t have to—"

I plow on. "But now, I think I know why he made that choice. Maybe what he wanted—what he couldn’t say—was that he wanted you to have choices. To go out and live your life on your own terms. So I would be contradicting his wishes if I dragged you back here and chained you to me. Who am I to disagree with the old man?"

Santino blinks rapidly and looks down, his hands massaging each other again. "I’d like to...believe that. I’d like to think that Sir Adonis...might have seen, at last, that..."

He clears his throat and looks up. "Thank you, Sasha. And now, I think I’d better get going. Giovanni might need rescuing. Often does."

"Thank you for coming. For saving our collective asses."

"You’re welcome. And I’ll be back again, if you need me." He stands over me and kisses me on both cheeks, and then adds in Italian, his eyes twinkling: "But please, try to take better care of yourself, Sasha." I don’t think he’s ever called me by my first name before this much.

He gives me one last, warm smile, and then he’s gone.

I wait alone for a few minutes, thinking through our conversation, and then I raise my voice. "Baby...? Can you send Luigi in?"

Tyler’s head pops around the door. "Um, so Luigi had to go," he says nervously, and then comes over to me. "Don’t be mad at him. He got a lead on where the Irish might be holed up downtown. Had to go then and there if he was going to catch them."

I take that in. "Then he made the right call," I concede. "If he can clean out the dregs, make the city safer..." I trail off as an unwelcome face appears at the window in the door.

"Make the city safer, Mr. Adonis?" Detective Burgess repeats coldly as she comes in. "That’s my job. And to do that, I have a few questions for you."

"I imagine you do, detective," I say, smiling.

"Tyler, could you give us a moment?" But he walks very slowly to the door, and I’d bet my entire empire that he’s listening outside it as Burgess starts to grill me.

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