Sold to Mr. Giordano

Antonio

“Over a bit more to the left,” Arielle monitors me from the rocking chair as I hang up the painted wooden letter ‘a’ on the wall of the nursery.

“There?” I move it over an inch.

“Perfect. I love it,” she whispers not wanting to wake the sleeping newborn in her arms.

I take a step back admiring my handyman work. The letters spell out Alaïa. The name was Arielle’s idea. How could I possibly say no when she admitted having picked out that name since she was a child. I’ve never given any thought to names. I figured if I had a son maybe I would name him after my grandfather. I couldn’t argue with Arielle either because as soon as the name left her mouth, I knew in my bones our daughter was Alaïa.

There was one name I wanted to use though. Camilla. Alaïa Camilla Giordano. It was my mother’s name and I figured she deserved her own tribute for sneaking in lessons on how to love, without her I’m afraid that the feeling I get in my chest whenever I see Arielle or Alaïa would be gone.

“Angelo is coming up for the baptism next week,” Arielle voice brings me down to reality. “He’s so happy that he’s the godfather.”

I wanted to choose Rocco, but after all Angelo did to save mine and my brother’s life is worth it. He made my Arielle happy in her childhood and always looked after her. I have him to thank for making her who she is, saving her spirit from their bastard father and brother.

“Rocco claims the next child.”

Arielle snorts which makes me smile. “Yeah, right.”

“What? You don’t want another?”

“We barely get enough sleep as it is with Alaïa.”

“I’m not saying let’s have one right now. I mean in the future.”

“I don’t know. I never thought about it. I didn’t think you’d want another.”

“I want a son.”Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Her eyes widen. “But aren’t you scared that…”

That in raising him to be Capo I’ll do something wrong that’ll make him turn out like my father or her father or Luca?

Terrified.

That’s what being a husband and a father is all about. It’s about being terrified of losing everything. It’s weighing every option to make sure it’s the best option for my family instead of carelessly making mistakes and putting my life on the line.

I don’t want a son because I want him to take over when I’m gone, I want a son because I want to know what it means to have a father-son bond the proper way. I want to be his role model and teach him everything I know. I want him to look up to me and ask me for advice. I want to watch him rule the world and become his own person.

Just like how with every passing day Alaïa continues to wow me. Every day her personality grows and I find myself fantasizing about the person she’ll become. Will she be artsy like her mother or will she want to be a doctor? Will she want to honor tradition or break apart?

I never looked forward to the future, I never cared if I made it through tomorrow or died on a mission but now, I have something that makes me look forward to opening my eyes in the morning. Something to make me more cautious in the missions I attend.

Something worth living for.

My life has been much easier now that Angelo is Capo in New York. We both see eye to eye and the Outfit is slowly gaining its strength back. Marco had paid the Bratva in the area and tipped of secret locations of my men in order to weaken us and hopefully have my men revolt against my leadership.

Without the Bratva being tipped off I have less men dying on drug and gun shipments and am making more money by having the shipments delivered to the source instead of lost in battle.

I kiss Arielle ‘s temple and look down at Alaïa who sleeping while is swaddled in her purple blanket. I kiss her forehead and she doesn’t stir a bit.

I don’t even have to ask for Arielle to know that my fingers are itching to take her from her mother. I hold my daughter in my arms and hold her close.

Daddy will protect you. Daddy will never let a single soul bring harm to you.

The End