His Mafia Prince
Chapter 283: It’s All About Trust

Chapter 283: It’s All About Trust

{SASHA}

Problems beget problems.

It’s something my Father said to me once, and I never forgot it, musing over it from time to time when it floated into my mind during times like these.

Problems beget problems. My own have become legion over the last few years, and Gloria must now be feeling similar, I thought, as we drove away from Boston. Nothing hurts as badly as betrayal, from an ally that you have trusted with your life to protect you, and protect your interests fiercely with their loyalty. And what hurts even worse is knowing that the mole has been sneaking up under your nose the entire time. It hurts to be Gloria right now.

Tyler was uncharacteristically quiet during the drive. There was one thing he said, though—one request he made, out of the blue.

"Sasha? I think I want to stay in the mansion. Permanently."

Perhaps solutions spawn solutions, too. The mansion was only supposed to be a stopgap place to live, but there’s something that seems right about his suggestion. Gloria has Hillview. I want my baby bird to have a place to call his own, too. A place to call home. Where we can all feel safe and happy, without having to worry about being on the spot on or being hunted again. Hell, it has been a run for both our sanities.

And I want a palace from which to rule. The townhouse was where I found my feet, and where Tyler and I began our marriage, but things have changed now. For me. For us. For our partnership.

"I think that’s a great idea," I told him.

The other thing I like about the mansion is that it has at least three exits: front door, back door, and the tunnel, which Miles is quietly extending back into its Prohibition-era route, to exit at the river. If we get firebombed, God forbid, we’ll have options.

And I’ve also allowed Miles to install panic rooms on every level. Solutions spawn solutions.

A place to live.

After an eternity of navigating life in the mafia world, the fleeting highs and the devastating lows, we both long for something permanent. Something real. A place that we can trust that the world we’ve spent years exploiting wouldn’t come knocking at our door demanding one last favour, or a final debt.

The thought of a home, no more looking over our shoulders, no more bloody payoffs, just four walls, and a roof where we can finally breathe. A place where the laughter of our kids can finally drown out our fears and shadows.

Contentment, I realize, isn’t just in power and wealth, but in the ordinary moment when I can feel the warmth of his hand in mine. That is worth even leaving the mafia life for, and worth fighting for no matter the cost.

And as we drove back, I received a call about another solution: my financial advisors, telling me I’d been granted permission to buy up the stock I wanted, making me a majority shareholder in the company Louis Clemenza relies on. It seemed that Magda, as controlling partner of the objecting board faction, had done me a favor.

She knew as well as I did that the "assassination attempt" in Venice was not what it seemed, but perhaps I’d amused her—I wouldn’t dare to think I’d actually impressed her—or perhaps she was as tired of the Clemenzas as I was. In any case, she’d gone ahead and withdrawn her objections, which allowed me to put Clemenza’s entire holdings in danger. He’d made some bad financial choices over the last five years, and also some stupid ones. Now I could take advantage of that fact.

"Did we do the right thing about the Irish?" Tyler asks when the call is finished.

"I believe so." We agreed to leave it in Gloria’s hands. Let the Irish deal with Irish problems. I have enough Italian problems of my own. "We need to deal with this business," I say to Tyler. We’re nearly home.

"We do," he agrees, rousing himself from his thoughts. He stretches as well as he can in the car, and reaches a hand up behind my neck to massage it. I smile and lean back into his kneading fingers. "Tonight?" he asks.

"Not tonight. We’ve seen enough blood for one day, and I want to speak to the Commission about it first, too." This day has felt like an eternity, and when we get back to the mansion, all I want to do is fall into bed with Tyler and hold him close.

"Fuck the Commission," Tyler sighs.

"I’m not going to take out a senior Family member without their say-so," I insist.

"Clemenza did." The venom drips from his tongue.

"Yes, and look at the consequences. I’m not going to destabilize any more than I have to. I might be the head of the Commission, but I always intend to consult them on decisions like these."

Tyler is silent for a while, squeezing the knots in my shoulders now. He has a wonderful way of knowing exactly where all my physical tension is bunched up. "I want to be there when it happens," he says after another minute.

"Naturally."

"But I also need to go see how the kids are doing. We have been away long enough," he reminds me."I am sure that your mom and the nanny have had a lot of trouble handling them. And I sure have missed them."

"Of course, baby. It is always work with us, but even then, we have to create and spend time together as a family. Whatever happens, family comes before anything."

It gets a laugh out of him at least, and then we lay our plans.

I remember Luigi talking about how he preferred having Luciano more deeply involved in the business, because he didn’t have to watch his words so much. But it’s not just that, I see now, or maybe I just understand better what Luigi really meant.

Like everything else in life, it’s about trust.